(Harry — 11:30 PM, Walking Street)
Harry stood near the stage, completely mesmerized. She was absolute perfection. Flawless skin, cascading dark hair, moving with a hypnotic, effortless grace under the neon lights. She wasn’t just a dancer; she was a glowing cinematic illusion.
He waved the Mamasan over, pulling a 1,000-baht note from his pocket.
“I want to buy her a lady drink,” he shouted over the heavy bass.
The Mamasan smiled apologetically and shook her head. “Cannot, handsome. She have customer already. Booked for the night.”
Harry nodded, taking a sip of his beer. He wasn’t giving up. He had sworn off getting involved with girls from the industry, but for a woman this radiant, he was willing to risk it all. He would come back tomorrow. He had to.
(Fon — 11:35 PM, On Stage)
Fon shifted her weight in her six-inch heels, her feet screaming in pain. The Mamasan walked past the stage and pointed discreetly into the dark crowd. “That farang over there wants to buy you a drink. He keeps staring.”
Fon glanced into the shadows. A tall guy was burning a hole through her with an intense, unblinking, heavy stare. She shivered. “Tell him I’m busy,” she mouthed. Something about his gaze was just… too much. Too intense.
(Harry — 2:00 PM the next day, Big C South Pattaya)
The afternoon heat was brutal. Harry stepped onto the squeaky travelator heading up to the second floor of Big C. He just wanted to grab some coffee and get back to the AC, but his path was completely blocked.
Standing right in the middle of the escalator was a local woman in gray sweatpants with heavily stretched-out knees, cheap rubber sandals, and an oversized, faded charity t-shirt that read: “PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD – Amos 4:12.”
Her hair was tied in a messy knot, her bangs pinned back by a cheap, bright pink Velcro hair-pad.
Harry sighed heavily, shifting his weight. She didn’t move. Classic, he thought. Zero spatial awareness. He stared at the back of her doomsday t-shirt, annoyed by this random daytime auntie.
(Fon — 2:01 PM, Big C Travelator)
Fon was exhausted, nursing a mild hangover. Her glamorous neon mask was gone, replaced by a thick layer of white cooling powder on her cheeks. She just wanted to buy her rice and go back to sleep.
Suddenly, she heard an aggressive, impatient sigh behind her. She casually glanced over her shoulder.
Her blood ran cold.
It was him. The intense, unblinking farang from the bar last night. Oh my Buddha, she panicked. He tracked me. He followed me to Big C! She quickly snapped her head forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. As soon as the travelator reached the top, she grabbed her shopping cart and practically sprinted away.
(Harry — 2:05 PM, The Grocery Aisles)
Harry turned the corner into the household goods section. Suddenly—BAM.
A shopping cart nearly rammed into his shins. He stepped back. It was the same woman from the travelator. She had just lifted a massive 5kg bag of rice off the bottom shelf. Startled by the collision, she froze, clutching the heavy bag to her chest like a protective shield.
Her eyes were wide, staring at him in absolute, paralyzed shock. Harry frowned. Is she from a deep village? he wondered. Has she literally never seen a foreigner before? Why is she looking at me like I’m an alien?
(Fon — 2:05 PM, The Rice Aisle)
She had tried to lose him by ducking past the plastic buckets. She parked her cart, grabbed a 5kg bag of Jasmine rice from the shelf, and spun around to throw it in—only to accidentally shove the cart right toward him.
He was everywhere. He had cut her off!
She froze, still hugging the heavy bag of rice to her chest, terrified. He was frowning at her, studying her face. He knows, she thought. He recognizes me without makeup. He is a psycho. She didn’t say a single word. She chucked the rice into the basket, yanked the cart backward, and fled down the instant noodle aisle.
(Harry — 2:10 PM, The Checkout Line)
Harry stood in the long, slow queue, exhausted by the daytime chaos. A light flashed, and a new register opened. He quickly stepped over, hoping to get out of the store—but someone beat him to it.
The doomsday woman aggressively shoved her cart forward. She slammed her heavy bag of rice onto the conveyor belt, breathing heavily, entirely avoiding eye contact with him.
Harry just shook his head, staring at the pink Velcro pad stuck to her messy hair. He pulled out his phone, completely ignoring the strange, awkward local woman. He needed to rest. Because tonight, he was going back to the neon lights to find his flawless, radiant goddess.
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