NO SAFE DISTANCE

CHAPTER SEVEN __UNRAVELED

Kian hadn’t visited his parents’ apartment since moving to Thailand weeks ago. His parents moved back complaining about the stress in the United States, they kept saying maybe it's time for them to come home. They've been in the states for a long time and the weather there isn't a joke.

The city thrummed with late afternoon energy, vendors calling, traffic buzzing, people flowing in all directions. He let the taxi slow in front of the familiar building, taking a deep, grounding breath before stepping out. School was stressing him out.

A message from his mother (wan) appeared as he climbed the stairs:

“Come have dinner by 10? Thomas wants to see you too.”

He exhaled, slipping the phone into his pocket. He hadn’t planned to leave the apartment after school, yet the world beyond Aou’s structured presence awaited: streets, errands, the unfiltered reality of life outside therapy sessions.

Inside, his parents greeted him warmly. Thomas poured coffee while Wan fussed over the table. Subtle pride glimmered in their eyes. They trusted Aou, recommended by Dr. Amal ( A close family friend who was also a doctor). It was reassuring and unnerving all at once.

“You’ve grown disciplined,” Thomas remarked, glancing at Kian’s posture. “Dr. Amal said Aou is effective.”

“Yes,” Kian said cautiously. “Structured. Helps me focus.”

Wan smiled gently. “The structure is good, Kian. But remember the world outside routines.”

He nodded, torn between relief at their advice and longing for the quiet, controlled presence of Aou.

Later, back in his apartment, dusk casting long shadows, Kian noticed Aou at a nearby café. Through the window, he observed him: posture precise, movements almost imperceptibly tense, notebook lines underlined obsessively, eyes flicking to the clock. Subtle tremors betrayed human cracks in control.

Even from outside, Kian felt curiosity and unease intertwine. Cracks in the composed exterior invited his attention, demanded observation.

Back in the apartment, he flexed his hands, chest tight not with panic but attentive focus. He replayed Aou’s gestures, tremors, and careful alignments over and over when passing by before he decided to ignore and walk back to his apartment.

At 9:00pm, while Kian was playing video games.

His phone buzzed. A different kind of message:

“Take a few minutes before bed to note what unsettled you today. Small details matter.”

Kian hesitated. Fingers hovered, then typed: “Understood. I’ll pay attention.”

Aou replied after a brief pause:

“Good. Even noticing counts as progress. Keep observing.”

Later, Sophie checked in:

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m managing. Learning a lot about… noticing things,” Kian typed back.

“Be careful you don’t get lost in it. Reality’s still outside too,” Sophie warned.

Her words reminded him that life extended beyond Aou’s structure. Streets, friends, parents. Anchors in the chaotic world outside. And yet, Kian could not unsee Aou’s meticulous, untouchable precision, nor could he ignore the stirrings of dangerous curiosity. Somewhere beneath observation, the need to understand, perhaps even possess, was growing.