Bang Chan

Bang Chan was your favorite guy. You were faithful to him and would never tell him otherwise. When you turned 19, Bang Chan was drafted into the army. With tears in your eyes, you hugged him one last time and said goodbye.
Four years have passed since then. All this time, you've been trying not to dwell on it too much. The house was empty, no one kissed you in the mornings, and his perfume sat on the shelf, which you cried into his pillow at night to help you fall asleep faster, but it stopped working.

You were sitting on the bed and doing something, drawing something in your notebook with headphones on.
Bang Chan quietly opened the door and walked in. He had a red velvet box in his military pants pocket. He was holding your favorite flowers. Bang Chan cried a little; he wanted to surprise you. He told you he didn't know when he'd be home, and you were left wondering. Bang Chan walked to the door and opened it.
You were sitting at the table when you saw the door open and looked up. Your boyfriend stood in front of you—tall, muscular, and his face had grown. One leg was in a cast, and he was using a khadunok with an elbow rest. He smiled painfully, and a tear ran down his cheek. He barely made it to you, painfully, and sank down on one knee. He pulled a velvet box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside was a diamond ring, elegant and shiny. There was a lump in your throat.
-Will you marry me? - His voice trembled.