Rumors and Riddles
886 Words
The weekend came and went in a haze of restless sleep and unfinished meals. Win couldn't get Phu out of his head.
That moment in the office—the closeness, the heat, the way Phu had nearly touched him—haunted his thoughts. And his dreams.
But by Monday, Phu was back to his usual self: guarded, composed, eyes cool behind his glasses. If Win hadn’t lived through that moment, he might’ve convinced himself it never happened.
He hated how much he wanted it to happen again.
---
Monday Morning Stand-up
The team gathered in the sunlit meeting nook—coffee cups in hand, sleepy greetings exchanged. Win was scrolling through Slack on his phone when he overheard Belle whispering behind him.
“I swear, the CEO’s still in Bangkok. My cousin works in HR. She said he’s been coming into the office secretly.”
“Seriously?” said another intern, a guy from IT. “Then why hide?”
“Maybe he’s spying on us,” Belle laughed. “Or maybe he’s testing someone.”
Win looked up, suddenly alert. “Wait, what?”
Belle turned to him, grinning. “Didn’t you hear? No one’s seen Phuchit Rattanasak in months. He doesn’t attend meetings. No photos online. Some people think he’s undercover.”
Win blinked. “Undercover? That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
Belle shrugged. “This is Thailand, not a K-drama. But the guy’s a ghost. His name’s on every contract, every strategy doc... but no one's met him. No selfies. No speeches.”
“Maybe he’s just shy,” Win said.
Or maybe he’s standing two desks away, you idiots.
Win looked across the room where Phu was quietly reviewing something on his iPad, alone in his usual corner seat.
Could it be?
No. That would be crazy.
Wouldn’t it?
---
Lunchtime
Win took his food to the rooftop terrace, hoping for a little quiet. To his surprise, someone else was already there.
Not Phu.
A tall man in a beige blazer, lounging with his feet up on a bench, scrolling his phone lazily.
“Oh—hey,” the guy said with a warm smile. “You’re the newbie, right? Win?”
Win blinked. “Yeah. Have we met?”
“Not officially. I’m Tee, marketing strategist. I just got back from our Chiang Mai branch.”
He stuck out his hand. Confident. Friendly. His grin too charming to be innocent.
Win shook it politely. “Nice to meet you.”
Tee tilted his head. “You work under Phu?”
Win nodded.
Tee smirked. “Intense guy, huh?”
Win raised an eyebrow. “A little. Why?”
“Just—he’s hard to read. Most people steer clear. But you’re always sitting with him. Working late. You two close?”
Win paused mid-bite. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You sure?” Tee’s eyes glinted. “You look like someone who wants to be.”
Win laughed, but the blush creeping into his cheeks gave him away.
Tee leaned in, voice dropping just a touch. “Just be careful. People like him… they only open the door halfway. And when they slam it shut again, it hurts.”
Win’s smile faded.
“You talk like you know him well.”
Tee leaned back with a shrug. “Let’s just say… I’ve worked with his type before.”
Then he stood, tossing his juice bottle into the trash bin. “Anyway, welcome to Nebula. Hope you survive.”
---
Later That Night
Back at his desk, Win found it hard to focus.
Tee’s words wouldn’t leave his head.
> “When they slam it shut again, it hurts.”
Was he being naïve? Getting too close to someone who was never planning to open up?
Win glanced at Phu, who was—as always—unreadable. Composed. Effortless.
He remembered the soft click of his voice. The way he’d leaned in during that late-night session. The way he’d said:
> "You're the first person to make me question the rules I wrote for myself."
That wasn’t nothing. Was it?
---
Midnight
Win stayed after hours again, working alone.
Except… he wasn’t alone for long.
Phu appeared by his side without a word, setting down a second bottle of water.
“You should go home,” Phu said. “You’re overworking.”
Win didn’t look up. “Maybe I’m just avoiding sleep.”
Silence.
Then Phu asked, “Something bothering you?”
Win bit the inside of his cheek. “Do you ever get tired of pretending?”
Phu’s brows knit, just slightly. “Pretending what?”
“That you don’t care,” Win said, finally meeting his eyes. “That you don’t notice what’s between us.”
Phu didn’t answer.
Win stood. Slowly. Deliberately.
He stepped in, not touching, but close enough that the tension vibrated between them again.
“You say you don’t mix work and play,” Win whispered, “but you keep showing up. You keep looking.”
Phu's voice was barely audible. “And you keep letting me.”
Win’s breath caught. “So stop pretending. Say what you want.”
Phu looked at him—really looked. His expression warred between restraint and hunger.
But instead of kissing him—
He walked away.
Again.
- Writer
