EXECUTION CODE

KNOWING YOU

They walked side by side, unhurried.

Kai broke the silence first.

"You know," he said, hands in his pockets, "most people don't get a second chance. I've had... more than I deserved."

Keiran glanced at him.

Kai continued, gaze forward. "Three times, actually." A faint, self-aware smile touched his lips. "And every time, you were there."

Keiran stopped walking.

Kai turned back, surprised, and met his eyes.

"You don't have to say anything," Kai added gently. "I know you're doing your job. But still... I'm glad it was you."

Keiran exhaled slowly, as if the words hit somewhere he hadn't armored properly.

"I don't save people for gratitude," he said. "I save them because someone should."

Kai nodded. "That's exactly why it matters."

They resumed walking.

After a moment, Kai added more quietly, "After Arash... after the kidnapping, I kept thinking about the man who pulled me out of hell. I never saw his face. Only felt his hands steadying me when everything else was falling apart."

Keiran jaw tightened.

"I looked for him," Kai admitted. "Not obsessively. Just... hoping, I guess."

Keiran gaze stayed forward. "Some people are meant to stay ghosts."

Kai hummed softly. "Maybe. But ghosts still leave marks on the living."

They reached the edge of the pond. Sunlight danced on the water.

Kai stopped, turning to him fully now.

"Whatever you're searching for in this city," he said sincerely, "I hope you find it."

Keiran met his eyes.

For a heartbeat, something unspoken passed between them recognition, tension, the fragile beginning of something neither could yet name.

"Maybe I already started," Keiran said quietly.

Kai smiled not charming, not strategic. Just real.

"Then," he said, "welcome back to Bangkok, Dr. Keiran."

And for the first time since returning, Keiran felt like the city might actually answer him back.

Weeks passed.

Bangkok Central General Hospital had begun to feel... predictable.

Keiran moved through his days with mechanical precision rounds, surgeries, consultations. The rules were clear here. Too clear. Protocols layered over instinct. Committees over urgency. Consent forms over split-second decisions.

No gunfire.

No radios crackling.

No blood-soaked urgency screaming now or never.

And yet, the emptiness gnawed at him worse than exhaustion ever had in the war zones.

He was excellent. Everyone knew that.

But excellence without purpose felt hollow.

That afternoon, he was finishing notes in his office when a soft knock came.

"Come in."

The door opened and Kai Thanawin stepped inside.

No entourage.