That night, I couldn't sleep well. My mind kept drifting to the past—the good old days with him. The laughter, the secrets, the way we used to be. But no matter how warm those memories were, I knew we could never go back. Not after what he did. I can't forgive him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Things had already fallen apart. And now, I'm just moving forward with the broken pieces.
My room looks exactly the same as it did four years ago. Not a single thing has changed. It's almost as if I never left. Mom told me she kept everything the same, just the way I left it. And she was right. Painfully right.
There it is—still sitting on my desk—the photo frame. Me and him. Smiling. Happy. Back then, those two boys had no idea what the future held. They didn't know that one of them would betray the other. That one of them would flee this country for a long, long time.
He was my best friend. My childhood friend. We'd known each other since kindergarten. We couldn't even make it through a single day without seeing each other. That's how close we were.
Were.
Not anymore.
Now I can't stand the sight of him—his face, his voice, his laugh. Everything about him makes me sick. And yet, I know I'll dream about that day again tonight.
This is my first night back in Yangon after four years of "studying" in the UK.
But if I'm being honest—it wasn't studying. It was running away.
And now, it's time to stop running.
It's time to face everything I left behind.
Today , When I woke up, I felt strangely refreshed. Maybe it was because, for once, I didn't dream of anything at all last night—no memories, no faces, no pain. Just silence.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I found Mom already there, seated at the table, arranging plates of warm Burmese dishes. Mohinga and fried vegetables wrapped around me like a familiar hug.
"Son, did you sleep well last night?" she asked with a gentle smile.
"I did, Mom. Slept like a log. How about you?"
"Of course," she said, her smile deepening. "My son is finally home. I've been waiting for this day. Actually... I have something to ask you."
I took a seat across from her, already sensing where this conversation might go.
"What are you planning to do now? You already graduated with an Interior Design degree from the UK."
I nodded slowly. "Yes, it's been a week since I came back. I think I've rested enough, so I'm planning to start job hunting soon."
"Son, I'm not trying to pressure you. I just want to understand your plans," she said softly. "Actually, your Aunty San visited yesterday. She said she'd really love it if you could work in her husband's construction company. You know Son Paing is already working there. I thought... maybe it'd be easier for you to settle in if your friend is around. He could help you adjust, catch you up on everything that's changed over the past four years."
Aunty San—Paing Say Yan's mother. She and my mom had been close since high school, more like sisters than friends. That's why Paing and I became so close when we were kids. They were the kind of family that had everything—wealth, power, status. Her husband owned several construction companies across Myanmar, and she even ran her own jewelry and gold shop. Meanwhile, my mom and I lived a quieter life. Just the two of us, ever since she divorced my father. She's worked hard to raise me alone, and I've always respected her, always tried not to let her down.
But not this time.
"Mom," I said gently, but firmly. "I have a good degree. I can find work on my own. There are plenty of companies that will want to hire me. I don't want to work there."
She looked a bit taken aback. "I know how smart you are, my son. But wouldn't it be even better to work somewhere familiar? Somewhere with someone you've known your whole life? I wouldn't have to worry if you were with Paing."
"Mom... I'm not a child anymore. I lived in the UK for four years. I can take care of myself here too"
Her smile faded slightly. "What happened between you and Son Paing? You two used to be inseparable."
I looked away. "That's in the past. Paing Say Yan and I... we're not friends anymore. Please try to understand and please don't ask me anymore"
Without waiting for her reply, I stood up and walked away, leaving the conversation behind. The truth was, only a few people knew what really happened between me and Paing. And even fewer understood the weight of it. It wasn't something I could just explain—not even to my mother.
I knew she was only worried, and I didn't blame her. After all, Paing and I were once so close that it seemed nothing could tear us apart—not even the end of the world.
But it did.
And the silence between us now says everything.
In the Past – During Our High School Days
The afternoon sun filtered through the tree leaves, casting dappled shadows across the yard. I lay sprawled on my back, a book resting on my chest, eyes fluttering shut from the warmth and quiet. I was just on the edge of sleep when I felt something heavy land beside me—no, on me.
"Don't put your giant hand on my chest—I'll hit you!" I grumbled, cracking one eye open.
"Paing Say Yan, can you lift your big body off me? I'm trying to read, and you're heavy," I added, pushing at his arm. He rolled over dramatically, flopping onto the grass with a groan and then popped back up in front of me, striking a theatrical pose.
He always did this. A walking drama show.
"My Babe, do you hate me now?" he asked, his voice full of fake hurt. "You used to let me lay on your lap when we were kids. You said you loved it."
"You're now a big musclehead who whines too much," I shot back. "If I punch you, you'll cry. Don't act like a drama king."
"You never do that to me," he replied, clutching his chest like he was heartbroken.
"You're such a sneaky snake."
"Oh, My Babe," he said, grinning, "don't be like that. It's not my fault I grew taller and stronger. You're the one who stayed tiny and cute."
He reached out and grabbed my wrist, holding it firmly like a spoiled child demanding attention—except this "child" was now a tall, muscular boy with the face of someone who could charm an entire classroom. That's how he was. That's how he'd always been.
He called me My Babe—his own strange nickname for me. It sounded odd to others, especially since we weren't actually lovers, but that didn't matter to him. We'd been friends since we were little, and he'd always treated me like someone fragile, someone he needed to protect. I never liked the nickname, but over the years, it had stuck. Even into high school, I couldn't shake it.
"Why are you even here, Paing?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He shrugged casually. "Whatever. I was bored at home, as always. My Babe."
"Stop calling me that. We're going into our final year of high school soon. What if someone overhears and gets the wrong idea?"
"I don't care," he said simply. "Let them think whatever they want."
"You're not even listening to me."
"I am listening," he insisted, just as he snatched the book off my chest. "Oh wow! I thought you were reading manga, but it's actually... English?"
"Give that back!" I lunged for it, grabbing the edge of the cover. "That's a design book. A friend lent it to me—he borrowed it from his older brother just so I could read it. Do you know how expensive that book is?"
"I can buy you design books anytime," he said with an easy smirk. "Whatever you want, just name it. Your friend's rich and kind."
"Boss, you can't just buy this one, even with money. It's a university-student textbook."
"You're serious about studying interior design after we graduate high school, huh?" he asked, quieter now, more thoughtful. "That means we'll work together one day, right? You promised me. After you graduate, you'll work with me at my dad's company."
"I remember," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Someone like you will definitely need a strict partner to keep you in check. I guess that has to be me."
He laughed, the sound boyish and bright. "My Babe, you're the best. Don't you dare break that promise. No matter what happens in the future."
And then, in true Paing Say Yan fashion, he extended his little finger toward mine with a dramatic pout. "Pinky swear?"
I rolled my eyes, but linked my pinky with his.
It was ridiculous, sweet, and him—all at once.
That was how we made our promise—fingers linked under the sunlight, laughter between us, believing in a future we thought would never change.
But now...
I can't keep that promise anymore.
Not because I forgot it.
I just want to protect my own peace.
Even if that means letting him go.