Namping groaned as his alarm blared. Seven a.m. on a Saturday. The studio would be chaos in thirty minutes, and he still hadn't had coffee. Or showered. Or convinced his brain not to obsess about Keng.
Too many things, he thought, burying his face in the pillow. Then his phone buzzed:
INTHIRA: Call time 7:30. Bring your notes and your fragile emotions! 🤍
Well, that was reassuring.
By 7:45, he was on set, clutching his tablet like a life raft. Cameras were rolling, light's flickered, and Inthira, who suddenly became assistant director, walking tornado, chaos enthusiast—was already shouting.
"Good morning, writer extraordinaire!" Save, his unofficial-official chaos sidekick, waved a half-eaten croissant. "You look like you wrestled your alarm clock and lost."
"I did," Namping muttered. "It won."
"Oh, and look!" Save pointed toward the center of the room. "Your personal ice cube, Mr. Keng, graces us with his presence."
Namping tried not to look. He failed. Keng stood by a camera, calm, composed, perfect in a way that made Namping want to hide behind a chair.
"Stop staring," Save whispered. "Or I'll tell Inthira you're totally crushing."
"I'm...not!!" Namping spluttered.
Inthira suddenly appeared, clipboard in hand. "Both of you, less men-observing, more focus."
"Men-observing?" Namping said, choking.
"Occupational hazard," Inthira replied with a grin.
Lunch break arrived, and Namping was already mentally exhausted from dodging Save's commentary and Inthira's micro-observations. Enter Yok, the co-star, bright, energetic, and ridiculously dramatic.
"P'Namping!!" she called, sliding onto the bench beside him. "You look like a drowned kitten. Did you get rained on, or is that your aura?"
Namping groaned. "Both."
"You poor thing," Yok said, patting his arm. "Don't worry, I've got your back. Especially if Mr. Ice Cube over there is acting like a mysterious glacier again."
Save snickered. "Glacier? That's new."
"Not new," Yok replied. "Accurate. Now spill: do you like him, or is it just admiration for his eyebrow control?"
Namping choked on his drink. "I—shut up!"
Yok winked. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But I will be taking notes."
Across the table, Keng approached them, tray in hand. Calm, collected, and suddenly too close.
"Seat taken?" he asked.
"Yes!" Namping blurted, then panicked. "I mean—no! Sit! Please!"
"Smooth," Save muttered under his breath.
Inthira appeared, snorting. "Ice Cube joins the chaos table. Brave choice."
Keng ignored them, placing his tray down. "You haven't eaten," he said, gesturing to Namping's half-empty plate.
"I-I was...thinking," Namping stammered.
"Thinking burns calories. Eat."
Yok choked on her water. "Oh my gosh. Did he just feed you like a mom?"
Keng's eyebrows quirked. "You're dramatic."
"Yes, but you're enabling it," Namping muttered, cheeks flaming.
YOU ARE READING
The Script Between Us
RomanceShy novelist Namping never expected his hit book to become a TV drama-or to meet Keng, the stoic actor who brings his story to life. When heartbreak leaves Namping shattered, Keng becomes his unexpected comfort. Between quiet moments, teasing banter...
