Chapter Text
The morning began with a completely ordinary domestic crime.
Peach had just set down a plate of cut fruit on the kitchen island when Thee came in from the terrace with his phone in one hand and the expression of a man who had already handled three business matters before breakfast and still somehow looked offended that the day had dared begin without him properly. The house was warm with early light, the kind that softened every polished surface and made even their absurdly expensive kitchen feel lived in rather than staged.
Mhork was half-awake over a bowl of rice porridge, still quiet in that sleepy, thoughtful way of his, and Marn was seated across from him, dramatically dissatisfied with the universe because Plub had apparently informed her the night before that she was no longer allowed to call every item of clothing “iconic” unless
she could explain why.
Peach, who had heard that conversation and refused to save her from it, slid a cup of coffee toward the place where Thee usually sat without even turning around fully.
— My LookPeach, you stole my coffee yesterday and now you are pretending generosity as if history has forgotten you entirely. —Thee said while crossing the room, rested one hand briefly at Peach’s waist as he passed, then picked up the cup.
— History remembers I am charming and therefore above consequence. — Peach replied mildly, reaching for a strawberry before Marn could take the last one.
Thee leaned down and kissed the side of Peach’s head with casual precision, as if it were no more remarkable than straightening his cuff, and Mhork looked up at exactly the wrong moment. He froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. Marn, who had also seen it, narrowed her eyes with theatrical suspicion.
— There — she said, pointing at both of them at once. — Again. That weird thing you do.
— Which weird thing, baby? — Peach glanced over his shoulder.
— The silent disgusting one — Marn said. — The one where Daddy touches you for one second and suddenly you both look like a married couple in an advertisement for emotional stability.
Mhork laughed into his sleeve. Thee sat down with his coffee and one lifted brow.
— That is an unusually hostile description of a healthy relationship — he said, kinda impressed.
— It is not hostile. It is observant. — Marn replied. — Also, it is getting weirder now that we are older, because romance is everywhere all the time and then I look at both of you and it is like... I do not know.
Like you are friends, but then lovers, but friends again.
Peach actually stopped moving for a second at that. Mhork lowered his spoon more carefully this time, his expression quieter but more serious.
— That is annoyingly accurate. — Peach admitted.
— Unfortunately, I am often right. — Marn said, a little bit too much like Thee.
Mhork looked between his parents, then asked with the careful honesty that always made Peach listen twice as closely.
— Can we ask something without you both getting embarrassing? — He asks seriously.
— No promises — Peach said at once.
— Ask anyway — Thee added, far less helpfully.
Mhork hesitated for only a moment.
— What were you like in the beginning — he asked. — Not just the love story version
people tell after everything works out. The real version. Because the way you are now makes it feel like you have always known each other, but we know that is not true.
— Yes. And tell it properly. Not the elegant version. The ridiculous one too — Marn leaned in immediately.
Peach looked at Thee. Thee looked at Peach.
And just like that, there it was between them again, not only memory but the absurdity of memory, because their story was not the kind that had begun with mutual dignity. It had begun with nonsense. Expensive nonsense, dramatic nonsense, highly avoidable nonsense, but nonsense all the same.
Peach set the fruit knife down and sat beside the children instead of across from them, folding one leg under himself a little as he got comfortable. Thee remained where he was, one hand around his cup,
already looking faintly resigned in the way he always did when their early history threatened to become family material.
— Fine — Peach said, smiling despite himself. — The true story is that your Daddy did not begin by pursuing me.
Marn’s mouth fell open in delight. — I knew it!
— Do not sound so triumphant, baby — Thee said, getting a little hopeless with the truth being told to the children.
— No, wait, this is already excellent — Marn said, pointing between them wildly. — Tell it again. Slowly.
Mhork was smiling now too, softer than his sister but no less interested.
— Your Daddy had his eyes on Aran first, during an Arseni perfume shoot. And because the universe enjoys making my life difficult, I was standing close enough to become involved in his disaster almost immediately
— Peach shook his head. The memories coming back vivid.
— “Disaster” is an impolite word for a man in love — Thee replied.
— You were not in love with me yet — Peach said sweetly.
— I was in love since the first second I saw you for the first time — Thee answers dramatically. That made both children laugh, making Peach smile and continued.
— The joke, unfortunately for me, was that I somehow became his coach. He wanted help courting someone else, and for reasons I still cannot fully explain except poor judgment and pity, I got dragged into teaching him how to act like a normal human being with romantic intentions — Peach explained, hopeless but truthful.
— You did not pity me — Thee said, a little incredulous.
— I absolutely pitied you, P’Kian — The younger answer with a certainty that only many years of marriage carry.
— Rude — He answer half jockily
— Accurate — Peach corrects softly.
— Wait, wait. So Papa was literally teaching Daddy how to flirt with somebody else? — Marn was leaning so far over the island now she looked like she might fall off her stool.
— Yes — Peach said.
— And Daddy actually listened? — Mhork, laughing now too, asked
Both looked at him and said at exactly the same time.
— Selectively. — That sent all four of them into laughter.Peach pressed his lips together when the laughter softened, but his eyes stayed bright.
— He was dramatic, impulsive, and completely influenced by lakorn logic — he said. — Everything had to be grand or symbolic or emotionally devastating when most of the time what was actually needed was sincerity and basic self-control.
— You make me sound impossible — Thee
said.
— You were impossible — Peach replied. — I would tell you to get a grip and you would somehow become more dramatic in five different directions.
— In my defense, I was trying very hard — The older one responded, almost apologetic.
— That is true — Peach admitted, his voice softening just enough to turn the joke into something more affectionate. — That was part of the problem. You were trying very hard in all the wrong ways at first.
— So when did it change? — Mhork rested his chin lightly in his hand.
That question settled the table down again.
Peach was quiet for a moment. He looked at Thee, really looked at him, and something gentler moved through his face.
— It changed when the chaos stopped being only funny — he said. — Or rather, when it became funny and
meaningful at the same time. Because somewhere in the middle of me teaching your Daddy not to behave like a man possessed by a television script, he started actually learning me too. Not just listening to instructions. Learning me. My routine. The way I lived. What mattered to me. And I started seeing the person underneath all that noise.
Thee’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly at that, becoming still in that private way he had when emotion reached somewhere deep.
— Your Papa forced me into ordinary life — he said. — Which sounds less romantic than it was. He made me follow real routines, real responsibilities, real time. He would not let me solve everything with money or convenience. At the time, I found this deeply offensive
— He is lying. He found it fascinating — Peach half jokes, exchanging a tender look
with Thee.
Mhork smiled, but Marn was staring at them with the full intensity of someone collecting emotional ammunition for later.
— What kind of ordinary life? — she asked.
— The kind where people wake up and do what needs doing. The kind where responsibility is not glamorous. The kind where you cannot just throw money at discomfort and call that care. Your Daddy had to see how I lived, how I worked, why certain things mattered so much to me. And I had to see him outside performance too. Not only rich, intimidating Khun Thee. The actual man. The one who was learning, and trying, and was occasionally ridiculous, but sincere — Peach leaned back a little.
— Did you know what was happening while it was happening — Marn asks, getting really curious about everything in the history.
— Not all at once — This time Peach answered first. — That was part of why it was real. It was not one dramatic moment where everything changed. It was a lot of smaller moments. Your Daddy showing up in ways that mattered. Me noticing that I was beginning to care what he thought, how he felt, whether he had eaten, whether he was sleeping enough, whether he was being ridiculous in some fresh and exhausting way. It stopped being just “I am helping this man” and became “why is this man becoming part of my actual life?”
— Very reluctantly, I assume — Marn said.
— Deeply reluctantly — Peach agreed.
— He liked me far earlier than he admitted — Thee glanced at the children and said.
— I tolerated you with increasing emotional complexity — Peach replied.
— That is one of the most Peach sentences I have ever heard — Mhork murmured, and Peach reached over to squeeze the back of his neck affectionately.
— So when did Daddy stop liking Aran? — Marn, however, had already moved on to the most important thing
— By the time I understood what I felt for your Papa, whatever I thought I wanted in the beginning had become irrelevant — Thee, to his credit, did not even pretend to be confused — That was part of the point. The original pursuit mattered less and less because the person actually changing my life was standing right in front of me the entire time telling me to get a grip.
— Which he often needed — Peach added.
Mhork’s gaze had gone a little softer, more thoughtful. — So it was not just romance first — he said slowly. — It was... learning each other first. And kind of friendship too. Even while everything was messy.
— Exactly — Peach smiled immediately. — That is why what we have now feels the way it does. It was never only an attraction. Attraction was there, obviously. Your Daddy has always been very difficult to ignore.
— Finally, some respect — Thee murmured, earning a small slap from Peach.
— But the core of it became something else too. He learned how to be more real with love. I learned how to let someone into the parts of my life I protected very carefully. There was affection, yes, but there was also trust forming. Habit. Friendship. Being known. By the time things became openly serious, we had already changed each other quite a bit.
— That is so offensive. Why is that actually beautiful — Maen asks not for anybody specifically.
— Because it is true — Peach said, voice filled with the kind of love that is not described in novels. There was a brief, warm silence after that.
— And then the confession came later? — Mhork broke the silence. Voice soft.
Thee set down his coffee. His voice, when he answered, was quieter now, less teasing.
— Yes — he said. — Later, when your Papa had already become someone I could not treat lightly. By then, I knew enough about his life, his responsibilities, his fears, and the people he loved to understand that loving him meant speaking seriously. Not performing. Not persuading. Not overwhelming him with drama because I wanted a feeling. I asked him properly to try being with me. And I promised what I intended to give: love, care, protection, and steadiness. Not as a fantasy. As a commitment.
Marn’s face softened at once. Mhork was listening so intently now that he had gone completely still.
— That was the part where it stopped being chaos and started becoming our real life — Peach looked down into his tea and smiled in that small, helpless way he had when memory reached him somewhere tender. — Not that the chaos disappeared completely. Your Daddy still lives here.
— Did Papa make you work very hard for it? — Marn grinned
— Constantly. He was hard to seduce. — Thee said, half jokingly, half true.
— Good for him — Marn shrugs.
— You say that now, but I assure you, at the time I was suffering beautifully — Thee replied.
Peach laughed. Mhork did too, though his laughter carried that quieter sweetness it always did when something genuinely moved him.
— And then later you got married and adopted us — Marn said, and even though she kept her voice casual, the sentence carried a weight under it. Not painful, but precious.
— Yes — Peach turned toward her at once. So did Thee.
— Yes — Thee echoed, and there was no humor in his voice now, only certainty. — By then there was no question. We were building a life, marriage was part of that. So was family. So was making sure the people we loved belonged together and stayed together.
Mhork’s eyes dropped to the table for a second, then lifted again. Peach could feel the feeling in him before he spoke.
— So when people talk like romance is only about excitement, that is not really it — Mhork said.
— Excitement can be part of it — Peach answered. — But if that is all there is, it usually burns out or turns destructive. The part that lasts is what comes after excitement shows you where to look. It is the choosing. The consistency. The way someone fits into your actual life and makes it more honest, more cared for, more alive.
— Also, love should not require you to become less yourself in order to keep it. In our case, your Papa did not become more dramatic to match me. I became more grounded because of him. And I did not ask him to abandon what mattered to him. I learned to stand beside it — Thee added.
Mhork sat with that quietly.
— So basically Daddy got a crush, failed spectacularly, got assigned a love coach, fell for the love coach instead, and then became a proper person because Papa trained him like an emotional stray cat — Marn, meanwhile, was watching them with openly sparkling eyes and no shame whatsoever now.
There was a full second of silence, then Peach folded over laughing, Mhork nearly choked and Thee, who had endured many injustices in his life with composure, put a hand flat over his chest and said
— That is one of the most disrespectful summaries I have ever heard in my own home. — He says indignant. — And it came from my own child. The world is lost.
— Emotional stray cat is terrible. Baby, that is terrible — Peach, wiping at the corners of his eyes, gasped out — But not inaccurate.
— It is perfect — Mhork said, laughing helplessly now.
Thee looked at Peach as if seeking legal reinforcement and found none whatsoever.
— I want it noted that your Papa is encouraging defamation — The older says, a playful smile in his lips.
— I am encouraging art! — Peach replied.
Marn laughed so hard she had to hide her face against the table for a second. When she lifted her head again, there was still amusement all over her, but also something gentler.
— I like that you did not start perfectly — she admitted. — I mean, obviously I know nobody does. But still. I like that your love story was a little embarrassing first. You and Dada are so composed that it is difficult imagining you both being a mess.
— Most real love stories are embarrassing first — Peach’s face softened immediately.. — That is part of what makes them real. People are awkward. Timing is awkward. Feelings are awkward. What matters is whether the people involved grow into something truthful together.
— I think that is my favorite part too — Mhork nodded slowly. — Not the big gestures. The way it turned into real life. Like... he had to learn your world, and you had to let him into it. That feels more important than just falling first.
— It is more important — Thee’s expression shifted with that same subtle private softness.
Peach reached for his hand under the table then, more instinct than decision. Thee’s fingers closed around his immediately.
— There — Marn says when she noticed the holding hands.— See. That thing again. You are doing it right now.
— Doing what, baby? — Peach asked, no teasing in his voice, though he was smiling already.
— Being married in an aggravatingly beautiful way. — She reasons, making them both smile widens.
— You have such a gift for praise,Princess. — Thee said.
— Did seeing each other’s real lives make it scarier too? — Mhork smiled down at the table, a little more quietly
Peach understood that question at once. Not because Mhork was speaking of anyone specific, but because he had reached the age where the idea of love no longer lived only in fiction. It had started becoming something that could one day ask real things of him.
— Yes — Peach said honestly. — Much scarier. Once someone sees your real life, and you see theirs, it stops being only a fantasy. They can hurt you more. You can disappoint each other more. You have to choose whether to keep going while knowing more truth. But that is also what makes it deeper. You are not loving an idea anymore. You are loving a person and everything that comes with it.
— And that is why friendship matters so much — Thee complements. — Not friendship as a lesser thing than romance. Friendship as the structure that lets romance become livable. Your Papa was not just someone I desired. He became someone whose mind I respected, whose judgment changed mine, whose ordinary life I wanted to be part of. That is far more sustaining than attraction alone.
— This family is ruining me for everybody else — Marn sighed so dramatically that she even started laughing halfway through it.
— That’s good! — Peach said immediately.
— Excellent! — Thee added.
— Be serious — She says indignantly.
— We are serious! — Peach replied. — You should have high standards. Not impossible, perfect standards. But real ones. Someone should be kind to you. Honest. Respectful. Able to laugh with you. Able to apologize. Able to see your real life and not act like loving you only works in convenient conditions.
Mhork glanced up at that, and Peach knew he had taken it somewhere deeper.
— And they should be able to hear “get a grip” without collapsing. This is apparently essential — Thee added.
— One last question — Marn put both elbows on the table.
— Don’t need to be only one — Peach said, reassuring.
— When you tell the story to other people, which version do you tell? The romantic one or the humiliating one — She asks genuinely, making Peach and Thee look at each other.
— Depends whether your Papa is trying to ruin my reputation or not — Thee responds, in a serious manner that if someone else heard would think it was true.
— Depends how much we trust them — Then Peach said, correcting him with a warm laugh.
Marn beamed. Mhork smiled again, quieter, but with that same thoughtful warmth.
The morning had shifted by then into one of those long family breakfasts that were no longer really about food at all. The tea had cooled. The fruit was half gone. Sunlight lay in broad warm bands over the counter and floor.
Peach looked at his children and felt that tender ache he always felt when he saw them standing just at the edge of new understanding. They were old enough now to look at romance not only as something exciting or funny, but as something shaped by character, habit, friendship, and choice. Old enough to see that their parents had not simply appeared fully formed and devoted, but had stumbled, learned, laughed, adapted, and built.
— I still think Papa emotionally domesticated Daddy like a dangerous peacock — Marn, of course, was the one to ruin the tenderness first.
Peach made a choking sound, Mhork bent over laughing, and Thee, after a long pause in which he seemed to assess whether dignity had any realistic path forward, said.
— I am ending this conversation before either of you become more creative.
— Too late — Peach said, still laughing. — The damage is done, babe.
Thee stood and rested one hand at the back of Peach’s neck before leaning down to kiss his forehead. The gesture was quiet, intimate, and so familiar it might have passed unnoticed by anyone who did not understand its meaning. Mhork noticed. Marn noticed too. Both went still for just a beat.
There it was again. Not performance. Not a spectacle. Not even really flirting, though that still lived warmly between them. It was the deeper thing underneath it all. The ease of two people who had once met in absurdity and somehow made from that absurdity a home, a marriage, a family, a life where even teasing had tenderness inside it.
Peach tilted his head up and smiled at Thee with that soft, knowing affection that had only become more beautiful with time.
— I think these kids want a kiss too, don’t you think so, P’Kian? — Peach asks mischievously, looking at the both teenagers.
Marn groaned and Mhork laughed, neither of them denied it. Peach and Thee just split and each take one child, leaving kisses at their forehead with an exaggerated sound. Their laughs filling the space with warmth.
That, in the end, was probably the answer the children would remember most. Not merely that their parents had fallen in love, but how strangely human the beginning had been. How funny. How awkward. How sincere beneath the chaos. How a man had gone looking for romance in one direction and found, instead, the person who would teach him how to love like a real one.