Chapter 1
Important Notice: Please Read!
Hey there! Just a reminder: this is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment, so please don’t take it too seriously.
Warning: This story is NOT suitable for minors or anyone who might find sensitive content upsetting.
The fic does dive into some heavy topics, including intense angst, explicit sexual content, homophobia, biphobia, religion, psychological, physical, and/or relationship abuse, suicidal thoughts or tendencies, self-harm, abandonment, and other sensitive topics. So please proceed with caution and read at your own risk :)
With that said, enjoy!
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“All that remains is your ghost, and though everyone dies, how strange is it to be haunted by someone who’s still alive.”
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Engfa W.
Psalms 25:16
⟪𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘩⟫
──── ˗ˏˋ ✞ ˎˊ˗ ────
I jolted awake, my heart hammering like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. Sweat clung to my temple, cold and sticky, and the air in this goddamn bedroom felt thick, like it was trying to choke me. I fumbled for my phone on the bedside table, my eyes squinting against the darkness to make out the time.
“4:15 am.”
″Fuck... again?” I muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed—I stared up blankly at the dark ceiling, its shadows staring back at me. This was my reality now – a never-ending cycle of insomnia and anxiety that refused to let me go. Even when exhaustion finally claimed me, it was never enough to quiet the noise in my head.
With a groan, I forced myself out of bed, my exhausted body protesting with every stretch. I shuffled toward the bathroom, weaving through the maze of unpacked boxes cluttering the floor of my new apartment. Each one was a reminder of how temporary this all felt, like I was squatting in someone else’s life.
Keiyw’s tiny paws tapped softly behind me, her big brown eyes watching my every move.
I flicked on the bathroom light and caught my reflection in the mirror. God, I looked awful—dark circles carved deep under my eyes, cheeks sunken from the weight I’d lost since depression sank its claws into me. My hair hung limp, framing a face I barely recognized.
“Mom’s not looking her best, huh?”
I said softly to Keiyw, forcing a weak smile. She trotted over, her tail wagging, and nuzzled my leg, demanding me to pet her. I obliged, her soft fur grounding me as I sank onto the cold marble floor, my back against the bathroom door.
She curled up against me, her warmth a small anchor in the suffocating quiet. “How did I end up here?” I whispered, the words slipping out like a reflex, echoing in my mind as they had every day since I’d moved to this strange city.
One moment, I was building a life with her—her laughter filling our home, her touch promising forever, now, I was alone, surrounded by boxes and the echoes of a love that had slipped through my fingers.
She haunted me, sharp and unrelenting, reminding me of everything I’d lost.
Keiyw’s steady breathing grounded me, she’d been my lifeline these past few months, her quiet presence a reminder that I wasn’t completely alone, even when it felt like the world had turned its back on me. As I sat there, the memories hit me like a wave, and how all I had left was my little dog, this empty ″home″, and the pieces of a life I was still trying to put back together.
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Flashback
3 months ago
We picked mid-November for our wedding, right when Bangkok’s brutal heat finally eased and the city feels a little less like a sauna, with a breeze that makes everything seem lighter, like the whole place is taking a deep breath.
Patcha and my mom were the real heroes here, helping me with all the planning like it was their full time job. They sorted out the venue, and dealt with vendors like pros.
Faye, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the wedding frenzy. She was more than happy to let Patcha and my mom handle everything, barely glancing at their plans. With a half-hearted nod or a distracted “Sure, sounds good,” she’d go along with whatever I suggested, clearly more interested in scrolling through her phone than debating flower arrangements or cake flavors.
I was picturing something small and intimate, our closest friend’s and family - maybe a small dinner at some fancy restaurant. But Faye’s family? They shut that idea down fast.
They were set on a wedding so grand it could grace the covers of Thailand’s magazines. For them, it wasn’t just about us tying the knot — it was a statement, a chance to flaunt their daughter’s big day with all the elite society of Bangkok.
“First of all, let me congratulate both of you,” Mr. Peraya said, warmly embracing us both. “You took your time, my dear. I was starting to worry that Engfa might get tired of waiting for you,” he teased, giving Faye a few playful pats on the back.
Faye rolled her eyes, which made me laugh. “Father, please, behave,” she said in a mock-serious tone, taking my hand as we sat down in the grand living room of the Peraya mansion.
“What? It’s the truth. Your mother thinks so too, don’t you, darling?” Mrs. Peraya shook her head, chuckling. “Leave the girl alone,” she said, then turned to us with a warm smile. “I’m so happy for both of you, my dears. You know we’ll take care of everything financially.” Mr. Peraya nodded in agreement with his wife’s words, a warm smile spreading across his face.
To describe the Peraya family as merely wealthy would be a huge understatement; their influence stretched across Thailand, their name synonymous with power and prestige.
“Rest assured, we’ll take care of everything,” he said reassuring us, his tone carried with confidence “You two don’t need to worry about a single detail.”
I hesitated for a moment, my fingers instinctively finding Faye’s, her familiar warmth grounding me “Honestly,” I ventured, my voice soft but confident, “I’d love something simpler—a small wedding, just for family and close friends.”
As the words left my lips, I felt the weight of their gazes shift toward me, a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across their faces as if I’d suggested something unthinkable.
“Or maybe not?...”
Mr. Peraya let out a deep, hearty laugh that echoed through the grand room, his eyes twinkling with mischeaf. “Oh, Engfa, my dear, that’s simply out of the question,” he said, his tone teasing but kind.“You’re marrying the heiress to one of Thailand’s most distinguished families. A modest wedding was never the plan.” He leaned back in his chair, clearly relishing the moment, while Faye squeezed my hand, her lips twitching with a suppressed smile.
Mrs. Peraya, elegant and composed, nodded in agreement, her gentle laughter softening the edges of her husband’s declaration. “He’s right, darling,” she said, her gaze warm yet resolute as it settled on us. “This wedding will be the event of the year—a celebration of Faye’s legacy and your union. We’ll spare no expense to make it unforgettable, an event that reflects the love you share and the pride we feel.” Her words, though delivered with grace, carried an unspoken finality, as if the grandeur of the occasion had been decided long before I’d dared to dream of simplicity.
────
In the end, my mom and Patcha were able to secure this gorgeous venue that could hold over 3000 guests. I’ll be honest, a wedding that huge wasn’t exactly my dream but if Faye was happy, so was I.
It was mid-August, just three months until the wedding, but lately, I’d noticed Faye acting a little... off. The past two weekends, she said she “couldn’t” stay over at my place, which was weird because she’s always been the one insisting our time together is non-negotiable—especially now, with the wedding coming up. It was starting to mess with my head.
“I think it’s just wedding jitters,” Aoom offered, her tone well-meaning but doing little to ease my growing anxiety. “Maybe she just needs some time alone before, you know, fully committing her life to you.”
“But what do you mean by ‘off’?” Patcha interjected, raising an eyebrow. “No offense Fa, but with all due respect—or lack of—to your fiancée, P’Faye’s always been a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me.” She shrugged, unfazed by her own bluntness. “You know it’s true.”
Nessa nudged Patcha, a subtle warning that she was treading into delicate territory. “Easy Fa,” Nessa said, her voice calm and measured. “Aoom’s probably right—it’s likely just nerves and work stress piling up. We all know P’Faye isn’t the easiest person to read.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I don’t know... She’s been super weird about her phone lately. Every time I’m around, she tucks it away like she’s afraid I’ll see something I shouldn’t. The last time she stayed over at my place, I heard her get up in the middle of the night to answer a call. She always ignores calls after 10 p.m., even if they’re work-related,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “And...” I sighed, embarrassed about what I was about to say. “The last time we had sex was the night of our engagement,” I whispered softly.
“WHAT?!” the four of them shouted in unison, causing the entire café to fall silent, with some customers shooting us judgmental looks.
“Shhh!” I hissed, waving them down.
Meena chimed in “How is that even possible, Engfa? That’s it, I’m done with the whole marriage thing. Sorry, babe, but our sex life matters more to me than some wedding that’ll leave us broke.” Aoom gave her a death stare.
I laughed at Meena’s comment. “But is it because of you or her?” Nessa asked in a low voice. “It’s her. Every time I try to initiate something, she stops me cold. She says she’s too tired or just not in the mood, but this isn’t what I’m used to—we’ve always had amazing sexual chemistry, so I don’t understand what’s going on.”
″You’re telling me that on top of putting up with her awful personality, she’s leaving you without sex, and you’re still going to marry her? You’re seriously crazy,” Patcha said, without lowering her voice, which made everyone turn to stare at us again.
I gave her a light smack on the shoulder—this woman truly had no idea what discretion meant. “Ouch!” she complained. “I didn’t even hit you that hard, you drama queen,” I said, rolling my eyes and teasing her.
“Look, Eng, I’m not telling you to distrust her, but you know what they say: a jealous eye is rarely wrong,” Meena said, jumping when Aoom pinched her arm. “Ouch! Hey!” Meena yelped. Aoom shook her head. “Or, you know, you could just talk to her instead of acting like some jealous maniac. Don’t listen to Meena—she’s clueless.”
I sighed, staring into my coffee. “Maybe you guys are right, and like always, I’m just making a big deal out of nothing.”
────
After a brutally exhausting day at work, the kind that leaves your brain foggy and your shoulders knotted, I decided to surprise Faye at her apartment. Aoom’s words echoed in my mind: “Talk to her, that will help you relax.” She was right.
Before heading to her place, I made a stop at a florist shop I knew near the city center. I stepped into the shop, greeted by the earthy scent of greenery and the soft hum of a cooler. Scanning the colorful buckets of flowers, my eyes landed on the perfect bouquet: a cluster of sunflowers, Faye’s obsessed with sunflowers— their faces wide and bright, like they’d soaked up the sun just for her.
“That’s the one,” I said to the florist, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, pointing at the arrangement. I handed over my card, paid, and carefully tucked the bouquet into the passenger seat of my car.
The traffic was a beast tonight, Bangkok’s streets a chaotic symphony of scooters, taxis, and neon signs that bled into the humid air. I gripped the wheel, my mind drifting to Faye—we’d been apart too much lately, our schedules pulling us in opposite directions, and this surprise felt like a tether to draw us back together.
My next stop was her favorite Japanese restaurant, a tucked-away gem that she swears serves the best sushi in the city. Faye had introduced me to this place on our third date, her eyes sparkling as she described the “addictive taste” of their rainbow rolls. I could still hear her laugh, see her chopsticks stealing a piece of sushi from my plate with a playful grin.
As I stepped inside, the familiar smell of soy sauce, ginger, and toasted sesame hitting me like a warm wave. The place was buzzing, with waitstaff gliding between tables and the soft clink of chopsticks against plates. I approached the hostess, menu in hand. “Hey, can I get two of these rolls?” I pointed to the menu, my voice steady but polite — “To go, please.” The hostess nodded, jotting it down with a quick smile.
While I waited, I leaned against the counter, watching the sushi chefs work with precision, their knives flashing under the soft lighting. The takeout bag came quick, warm and promising, and I was back in my car, the sunflowers and sushi now sharing the passenger seat.
By the time I reached Faye’s apartment complex, a sleek tower of glass and steel welcomed me. I handed my car keys to Phu, the familiar older valet, he greeted me with a warm smile— “Evening, Miss Waraha, always a pleasure,” he said, opening my car door with a gentle flourish.
“Thanks, Phu,” I replied, flashing a grin as I gathered the sunflowers and the takeout bag from the passenger seat. “Have a great night, okay?” I called over my shoulder, giving him a wave as I headed for the entrance, my steps light despite the long day.
Faye’s building was something else—one of those places in Bangkok where wealth seemed to seep from every corner. The lobby alone was a spectacle: polished marble floors that gleamed under soft chandelier light, towering vases overflowing with fresh orchids, and a faint hum of classical music drifting from hidden speakers, giving the space an air of effortless sophistication, every detail screamed luxury, from the mirrored walls to the uniformed staff who moved with quiet efficiency.
I glided past the receptionist, Jiu, her familiar face always receiving me when I came to visit Faye. I gave her a quick nod and a half-bow, a small gesture of respect—“Shall I announce you, Miss Waraha?” she asked, her tone polite and warm as I pressed the elevator button for Faye’s penthouse—the very top floor, naturally.
“Nah, Jiu, It’s okay. I’m trying to surprise P’Faye″ I said with a playful wink and a smug grin, Jiu grinned back, and the elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding, carrying me up to the penthouse level in smooth, silent ascent.
When the doors opened on the top floor, the quiet was almost reverent, broken only by the distant hum of the city below. I walked to Faye’s door, my purse a chaotic as always. “Come on, where are you?” I muttered, fishing through the mess until my fingers closed around the small golden key she’d given me months ago— “Got you,” I said, grinning as I inserted the key into the lock.
The lock clicked softly, and as the door swung open, the familiar scent of vanilla enveloped me—Faye’s scented candles, always burning, casting a warm, flickering glow across the entryway. It was her ritual, a way to soften the edges of a demanding day. I slipped off my shoes, stepping into the plush slippers I kept here, and noticed the apartment’s silence.
It was dark, except for the candle’s flickering lights, and an unexpected stillness hung in the air. Either Faye was still at work—unlikely, given the hour—or she was in her bedroom, already asleep and oblivious to the world.
I flicked on the foyer lights, revealing the sleek elegance of her space. The kitchen’s black marble counter gleamed, and I set down the bouquet and takeout. I sank onto one of the stools at the counter, pulling out my phone to check the time:9:25 p.m.″She should be home by now″, I thought to myself —“She’s gotta be in her room,” I muttered under my breath, shoving my phone back in my purse. “It’s way past her usual bedtime, and knowing her she won’t pick up if I call or reply if I text her.”
With the bouquet in one hand, the takeout bag in the other, and a grin spreading across my face, I walked up the stairs to Faye’s bedroom. When I reached the second floor, a thin sliver of light spilled from under Faye’s bedroom door, my shoulders loosened—she was still awake. I shifted the sunflowers, their petals brushing my fingers like a quiet nudge, and took a deep breath, my heart racing with excitement.
But as I stepped closer to the door, my feet froze. A sound—low, muffled, but unmistakable—cut through the silence like a blade. My heart lurched, slamming against my ribs as a cold dread coiled in my gut. The smile I’d been wearing shattered, replaced by a sickening wave of disbelief. I stood there, rooted to the spot, the flowers and takeout turning to lead in my trembling hands. No... this can’t be... The thought choked me, raw and jagged, as another sound—a voice, not hers alone—slipped through the door. My breath hitched, the world collapsing into that unbearable noise. My hand hovered over the doorknob, torn between the urge to fling it open and the desperate hope that I’d misheard, that this wasn’t Faye—my Faye—betraying everything we were.
End of Flashback
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Keiyw’s soft whimpers pierced through the fog of my thoughts, pulling me back to the dim glow of the bathroom. Her small eyes locked onto mine, wide with quiet concern, as if she could sense the weight crushing my chest. Tears came unbidden, spilling down my cheeks in silent streaks, soaking the worn fabric of my shirt. Keiyw scrambled closer, her tiny tongue darting out to lick the salt from my face—a shaky chuckle escaped me, and I managed a frail smile, her sweet gesture a flicker of light in the haze of my grief.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered, my voice barely holding it together. “Let’s get back to bed. Mom’s got a long day tomorrow.” I stroked her soft head, her fur grounding me as I rose from the cold floor. Each step toward my bedroom felt heavier, the silence of the apartment pressing against me like a living thing.
The bed loomed ahead, vast and empty, a stark reminder of the absence that haunted me since she left. And as if the universe itself felt my heart’s heaviness, a sudden downpour erupted outside, rain lashing against the windows with relentless fury, mirroring the sadness churning inside me.
I sank onto the bed, curling onto my side to face the balcony window. The rain’s steady rhythm blurred the city lights into a watery haze, each droplet a fleeting echo of the life I thought we’d share. Memories of her crept in uninvited—her laugh, sharp and bright, the way her fingers brushed mine in those quiet moments, the promises we’d whispered under soft kisses.
Now, those memories were gone. The rain muffled the deafening silence of my bedroom, pulling me toward sleep’s fragile embrace. But as my eyes grew heavy, one question clawed at my mind, as persistent as the storm outside...Why?
The answer eluded me, slipping into the rain-soaked night, leaving only the weight of her absence and the faint warmth of Keiyw curled against my side.
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Author’s Note
Alright here we go, the first chapter of Temptation! This one’s a prequel, giving you a peek into Engfa’s past, kind of heavy huh? lol
I’m super excited to share this story with you guys—it’s close to my heart, and I hope you vibe with it as much as I do. I’ll try to keep the chapters coming as fast as I can, but not making any promises cuz writer’s block is a bitch. Still, I’m happy to keep going, and having you along for the ride :)
Thank you for reading! -′♡’-
