Ok! Since I've been seeing everyone writing their own story...I thought I'd write one myself. I've always wanted to write a novel of my own one day, so maybe this will be a start...It's actually fun, just writing and imagining things...seriously, I can imagine a series going on in my head as I write...haha...well, I hope everyone enjoys...I'm not the best writer, but hopefully I'm not the worst either. Thanks. 
Phailin Naprapa - Pat Naprapa
Choi Seung Jin - Choi Siwon
CHAPTER ONE
Bangkok, Thailand
She sat quietly on the bed. She looked at him. Turned away. Looked at him, again. For a long time, she seemed to just stare at the topless being resting beside her. She looked to the window and stared at the endless sadness of a gloomy day. The rain had stopped, but it left behind a heartrending feeling unspoken of. She must have lost track of the time; he was already up and packing when she awoke from an indistinct dream.
“Meua rai khun ja glab maa?” she asked, her back turned toward him.
He stopped in the middle of rearranging some shirts in the luggage. He almost wanted to throw the clothes back into the closet and stay there forever. But, he didn’t; he gathered the rest of his clothes and fitted them in the luggage. He then went to the woman who now stood by the window as she continued to stare at the little people trying to escape the rain. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he embraced her.
“Pom ja glab maa ha khun nae. Pom mai mee wan tee ja ting khun yoo tee nee rok.”
“Dee tae pood, tae mai tum,” she almost whispered.
He turned her to face him.
“Mong pom si. Pom ja mai ting tur. Pom ja glab maa.”
“Chun cheua khun, tae waa…”
“Pom san yah,” he reassured her, hoping she would believe him.
She looked at him.
“Khun san yah.”
“Chai. Pom san yah.”
9 months later . . .
“Push, breathe, push . . .”
The woman let out a loud, shrieking scream and fell on her back as soon as her newborn’s cries overwhelmed hers. The nurse who had been of great help throughout her painful delivery handed the newborn to her. She smiled at her daughter and kissed the soft texture of her small forehead. Another nurse came into the room with a pen and papers.
“How would you like to name her?”
The woman smiled at her daughter. “Phailin.”
“Sapphire? That’s very extraordinary. Beautiful. May I know who the father is?”
The woman smiled on as though she didn’t hear the question.
Phailin Naprapa - Pat Naprapa
Choi Seung Jin - Choi Siwon
CHAPTER ONE
Bangkok, Thailand
She sat quietly on the bed. She looked at him. Turned away. Looked at him, again. For a long time, she seemed to just stare at the topless being resting beside her. She looked to the window and stared at the endless sadness of a gloomy day. The rain had stopped, but it left behind a heartrending feeling unspoken of. She must have lost track of the time; he was already up and packing when she awoke from an indistinct dream.
“Meua rai khun ja glab maa?” she asked, her back turned toward him.
He stopped in the middle of rearranging some shirts in the luggage. He almost wanted to throw the clothes back into the closet and stay there forever. But, he didn’t; he gathered the rest of his clothes and fitted them in the luggage. He then went to the woman who now stood by the window as she continued to stare at the little people trying to escape the rain. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he embraced her.
“Pom ja glab maa ha khun nae. Pom mai mee wan tee ja ting khun yoo tee nee rok.”
“Dee tae pood, tae mai tum,” she almost whispered.
He turned her to face him.
“Mong pom si. Pom ja mai ting tur. Pom ja glab maa.”
“Chun cheua khun, tae waa…”
“Pom san yah,” he reassured her, hoping she would believe him.
She looked at him.
“Khun san yah.”
“Chai. Pom san yah.”
9 months later . . .
“Push, breathe, push . . .”
The woman let out a loud, shrieking scream and fell on her back as soon as her newborn’s cries overwhelmed hers. The nurse who had been of great help throughout her painful delivery handed the newborn to her. She smiled at her daughter and kissed the soft texture of her small forehead. Another nurse came into the room with a pen and papers.
“How would you like to name her?”
The woman smiled at her daughter. “Phailin.”
“Sapphire? That’s very extraordinary. Beautiful. May I know who the father is?”
The woman smiled on as though she didn’t hear the question.
