Two years had passed since Oliver left for Bangkok, and life had taken on a new rhythm. His days were filled with painting, studying, and slowly building a new life in a foreign city. Bangkok had become his home in ways he hadn't expected. He lived in a spacious condominium overlooking the busy city streets, a quiet retreat from the bustling world below. Though he wasn't yet fluent in Thai, he had learned enough to get by, impressing locals with his effort, even if more complex conversations still left him stumbling.
University had been a whirlwind. Oliver quickly became a standout student, known for his raw talent in painting and his natural intelligence. His teachers often praised his work, and his classmates admired him, especially the girls who were drawn to his quiet charisma and good looks. But despite the attention, Oliver remained focused on his art, always pushing himself to improve.
In his free time, he posted his artwork online, slowly gaining recognition from international art enthusiasts. His vibrant, emotional pieces resonated with people, and his following grew steadily. Every few weeks, he received messages from art galleries or collectors interested in buying his work, and the validation was both exciting and a little surreal.
But no matter how successful or admired he became, there was always a hollow space in his chest. Every time he called his parents, who were always thrilled to hear about his progress, or Eli, who kept him updated on everything back home, that space seemed to shrink a little. However, when it came to Noah, things were different. Every time Oliver tried to call him, the line either rang endlessly or went straight to voicemail. Noah's silence felt heavier with each passing week, a weight that Oliver carried with him everywhere. The absence of their connection made the distance between them feel even greater than the thousands of miles that already separated them.
Sometimes Oliver would stare at his phone, re-reading the last few messages Noah had sent months ago. They were brief and polite—updates about the café, the weather, or a funny moment with a customer—but there was nothing deeper. No confessions of missing him, no real conversations. Just a slow, agonizing drift that Oliver couldn't seem to stop.
Back home, Noah's life had taken an unexpected turn. The small café he had once thought of closing had suddenly become more popular. A few local reviews had gone viral, and customers began flooding in. The profits were better than he ever imagined, giving him a much-needed financial boost. With the extra income, Noah had started saving up, and now he had plans to open a second café in a different part of the city.
His parents, who had once been distant and unaware of his personal struggles, were now fully in the loop. They had met Oliver briefly before he left, and since then, they had come to understand Noah's feelings. Their support, both emotionally and financially, had been a relief. They saw Oliver as part of their extended family, even if they hadn't seen him in years. They encouraged Noah's plans for the second café, offering to help invest in his future. And when it came to his relationship with Oliver, they didn't ask too many questions, but their quiet support was always there.
Despite the growing success of his business and the love of his family, Noah often found himself lost in thought, wondering what Oliver was doing halfway across the world. He knew Oliver was thriving in Bangkok—Eli had mentioned it several times, and Oliver's art had even come across his social media feeds. He saw the praise, the recognition, the way Oliver's talent was being celebrated. But every time Noah thought about reaching out, something stopped him. Maybe it was fear—fear that too much time had passed, that the distance had created an unbridgeable gap between them. Or maybe it was guilt, for not being able to wait as patiently as he had promised.
So he stayed quiet, convincing himself that Oliver was busy, that his life was better without Noah's interruptions. Yet the truth was, Noah missed him deeply. Every time his phone buzzed with a notification, he hoped it would be Oliver. Every time he walked past the bench by the pool in their old house, memories of their last conversation replayed in his mind. The forehead kiss, the unspoken promises—they all lingered, haunting him.
Meanwhile, in Bangkok, Oliver's life continued to move forward. He had made friends with other foreigners—students like him who were chasing their own dreams far from home. They went out for food, explored the city, and shared stories about their lives before coming to Thailand. Oliver enjoyed their company, but none of them quite filled the void that Noah's absence left.
As time passed, Oliver made the decision to stay in Bangkok for another year. He had been offered a chance to continue his studies and work as a teaching assistant, giving him time to paint, study, and earn an income all at once. It felt like the right move for his career, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was running out of time. Time with Noah, time to fix whatever had been broken between them.
One evening, after posting a new piece of artwork that quickly went viral, Oliver sat on his balcony, the city lights twinkling below him. He held his phone in his hand, his finger hovering over Noah's name in his contacts. He had tried calling so many times before, with no answer. But tonight, something inside him stirred—maybe it was the city's glow, or the success of his art, or just a longing he could no longer ignore. He tapped the call button and held his breath.
The line rang once, twice, then went straight to voicemail. Oliver sighed, his heart sinking. He didn't leave a message this time. He simply sat there, staring out into the night, wondering if Noah even thought about him anymore.