They didn’t return to the hostel until around five in the afternoon. With aching limbs and clothes that had dried multiple times between rest stops, they each took a long shower and collapsed into bed. Eight hours of walking had drained them, and the rest of the evening would be spent doing nothing in particular.
Cay glanced across the room at Tanya, now lying on her bed in a collarless shirt and soft cotton shorts. Her makeup had washed away, revealing the natural exoticism of her dark skin and delicate features. The blanket revealed the outline of her slender legs, the dip of her waist. She lay on her side, facing the wall—but she knew Cay was watching.
She stretched one leg out from beneath the covers, the fabric riding up ever so slightly. The move was deliberate. Seductive, but not forceful. She was used to being looked at—by men, by women. Those eyes of hers left no one unaffected.
“Tanya,” Cay said, loud enough that Daniel might have heard from the kitchen just beyond the door.
“Yes?”
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice softening.
Tanya turned to face him, locking eyes. Then, she smiled.
Cay rose from his bed and shuffled across the short distance in his sandals. Sitting beside her, he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear, revealing a small golden earring shaped like a flower. He stroked her forehead gently. Tanya didn’t move—she simply looked up at him, half-inviting, half-still.
“Would you like a massage? It’s been a long day,” he asked, holding up both hands in a gesture of innocent intention.
She smiled again and turned over in silent approval.
He started with her calves, working his way up to her thighs, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath smooth skin. She placed her phone aside as his hands moved higher, to her waist. She tensed at first but didn’t stop him. Her breathing grew deeper, more deliberate.
He leaned down and brushed his lips along her neck—it smelled of nectar and something warmer. Encouraged, he gently bit her. Tanya let out a soft gasp. Her neck arched toward him, her eyes flicking to where his mouth had landed, though she couldn’t see.
Her breath caught again. Then—
“Stop,” she whispered, voice heavy with breath.
Surprised, Cay didn’t react immediately. He slowly lifted his head away and laid beside her on the bed, his face near hers. She turned and looked at him—his face flushed, his eyes vague but sincere.
They lay there quietly, both staring at the wall, unsure what would come next.762Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡklVo0VrFDZ
It happened without warning. Judas couldn’t do anything but stare as dust trailed behind approaching military vehicles in the distance. Some of the Rohingya refugees saw them too, scattering toward their tents, dragging children behind them.
The camp’s doctor stood beside Judas, hands clenched. Mya followed, clasping a hand over her mouth. “They’re coming,” said the doctor.
“Oh no,” Mya whispered, then ran toward the administrative tent.
Judas followed, unsure what to do. He stepped inside to find a chaotic, heated discussion underway. No one sat; all were speaking at once.
“We have to do something!” shouted one of the administrators.
“I know, but we need to figure out why they’re here,” Mya replied.
“I agree with Mya,” the doctor started, but the conversation halted at the sound of roaring engines just outside.
Silence.
Everyone turned toward the tent entrance. Mya and the doctor moved first, followed by the rest. Judas trailed behind, caught in a fog of disbelief and adrenaline.
A man in a red beret and medal-pinned uniform stepped down from the front jeep. He walked with certainty toward the entrance. The camp director crossed the low wire fence to meet him.
“I’m Ku, director of this refugee camp. Please state your purpose.”
The commander paused, surveying the camp. Then, with one hand on his hip, he called out a command in Burmese.
“What do you mean by this?” the director asked again, eyes narrowing.
The officer smirked. “Exactly.”
Before the director could respond, soldiers poured from the lorries and charged past him—straight through the only entrance.
Judas stood frozen. It was his first time facing such raw force. He felt small, powerless. The kind of despair that crushes—because you see what's coming, and you can't stop it.
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