🍀Chapter 1☘️
The Boy Who Stopped Smiling
The house was too quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet —no.
This one was heavy. Suffocating.
Pun Phanith Vareecha sat by the window, his knees drawn slightly to his chest, his fingers loosely holding a paintbrush that hadn’t touched the canvas in hours.
Outside, the garden bloomed just as it always had —bright flowers, trimmed hedges, sunlight spilling everywhere like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
The laughter that used to fill the house was gone.
The voice that used to call his name every morning… gone.
“Pun.”
His grip tightened slightly at the memory.
That voice used to be warm. Playful. Always teasing.
“Pun, come here. Look at this—doesn’t this tree look like it’s smiling?”
Pun’s lips trembled.
His grandfather had said the strangest things.
And Pun had always laughed.
Always.
Now...
Nothing.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Pun?” his mother’s voice called gently. “Can I come in?”
He didn’t answer.
The door opened anyway.
Nalinee Vareecha stepped in carefully, like she was entering a fragile space that might shatter if she moved too fast. Her eyes softened the moment they landed on him.
He hadn’t moved.
Not since morning.
She walked closer, her heels quiet against the polished floor, and sat beside him.
“Sweetheart… you haven’t eaten.”
Silence.
Pun’s gaze remained fixed outside.
She followed his line of sight— the garden.
The same garden where he used to sit with his grandfather for hours.
Talking.
Laughing.
Living.
Nalinee swallowed.
“We… we can go out today,” she tried softly. “Anywhere you want. The beach? The café you like?”
Nothing.
Not even a blink.
Her heart clenched.
“Pun…” her voice broke slightly. “Talk to me.”
But Pun didn’t speak.
Didn’t react.
Didn’t even breathe differently.
It was like he had locked himself somewhere far away— somewhere no one could reach.
Nalinee reached for his hand.
It was cold.
That scared her more than anything.
Later that night, the house was filled with quiet conversations.
Low voices. Worried tones.
“He can’t go on like this,” Phirun Vareecha said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been months.”
Nalinee nodded, tears slipping quietly down her face.
“He doesn’t smile anymore…”
Across from them, the doctor sat with a calm but serious expression.
“Grief affects people differently,” he said. “But Pun… he’s not processing it. He’s shutting down.”
Phirun clenched his jaw. “So what do we do?”
The doctor paused before answering.
“Change his environment.”
They both looked up.
“A new school. New people. New experiences,” the doctor continued. “Sometimes… staying in the same place keeps the wound open.”
Nalinee hesitated. “But what if it makes things worse?”
“It might,” the doctor admitted. “But doing nothing is worse.”
Silence filled the room.
Heavy. Unavoidable.
Finally—
Phirun exhaled slowly.
“We’ll do it.”
The next morning, Pun stood in front of his grandfather’s room.
The door was slightly open.
It hadn’t been touched since the funeral.
For a long moment, he just stood there.
Still.
Quiet.
Then slowly… he pushed the door open.
The familiar scent hit him first.
Old books. Tea leaves. Faint traces of the cologne his grandfather used.
His chest tightened.
Everything was still there.
The chair by the window.
The stack of unfinished crossword puzzles.
The painting they had started together.
Pun walked in.
Step by step.
Like he was afraid the room would disappear if he moved too fast.
His fingers brushed against the desk.
And then—
He saw it.
A small wooden box.
He opened it slowly.
Inside was a simple bracelet.
Worn. Slightly faded.
He remembered it instantly.
“This is for you,” his grandfather had said with a grin. “So you don’t forget me when I’m gone.”
Pun’s vision blurred.
“…You said it as a joke,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
His fingers trembled as he picked it up.
“You weren’t supposed to actually go…”
The words cracked.
Broke.
Just like something inside him.
Tears fell silently, one after another, landing softly on the bracelet.
For the first time in months—
Pun cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quiet, broken tears.
A week later, Pun stood in front of his new school.
Students walked past him in groups—laughing, talking, alive.
He felt… nothing.
The gate loomed in front of him.
New place.
New life.
New everything.
But his chest still felt empty.
His mother’s words echoed softly behind him.
“Take your time, Pun… you don’t have to be okay immediately.”
He adjusted his bag slightly.
Took a step forward.
Then another.
And just like that—
Pun Phanith Vareecha entered a world that would change his life forever.
Though he didn’t know it yet…
Someone inside those walls was about to bring his smile back.
