I knew it wouldn’t be easy, dropping Aomsin back at school.
The four of us, Nabosi, Aomsin, Earn, and I, buckled up and headed toward Rapacha Boarding School.
Silence. The kind of silence that’s loud. My mind kept rewinding the last two days with Aomsin, replaying every smile and moment, as if I could somehow stretch the weekend just a little longer by thinking about it hard enough.
“Please ask Aomsin how her weekend with the Agape girls was,” I said to Earn, our very patient translator.
“It was wonderful. I made new friends,” Aomsin said. Then, after a pause, she added, “I don’t really have friends at the boarding school.” She explained quietly that some of the other students weren’t kind to her.
Silence again. The kind that sits in your chest.
“Please tell Aomsin that I will pray for her,” I said. I hoped she understood that prayer isn’t just a polite thing Christians say when they don’t know what else to do.
The engine roared to life and the conversation shifted to lighter topics because sometimes small talk is an act of survival.
Soon, the main entrance to the boarding school appeared. We parked outside. “Cars are not allowed inside on Sunday,” Nabosi explained in Thai, which was immediately translated for me just in case I was tempted to argue with Thai boarding school rules.
I closed the car door almost at the same time Aomsin did. My eyes went straight to the blue plastic bag she was carrying, the one holding all her clothes from the weekend. My heart sank. If only I’d noticed it earlier, I would have bought her a proper bag at Tesco Lotus.
We approached the desk where a school administrator collected a piece of paper from Nabosi. I assumed it was official confirmation that yes, we were indeed returning the child and not attempting a very slow kidnapping.
The four of us took a picture. By then, emotions were bubbling dangerously close to the surface. I reminded myself: Be strong. Adults are supposed to do that.
I asked Aomsin if I could pray for her. She nodded.
By the time I said “Amen,” the brave composure she’d been holding onto cracked. Aomsin broke down and cried. I hugged her tightly, whispering assurances that in just a few weeks she would come to the Agape Home for good. I knew she couldn’t understand my words, but I desperately hoped she understood the hug. Sometimes love doesn’t need subtitles.
The drive back was hard for me. Quiet again.
Then Earn broke the silence with perfect timing:
“So… what is your favourite colour?”
“So… what is your favourite colour?”
And just like that, the world reminded us that even on the hardest days, life gently nudges you forward sometimes with a completely random question.
by Selina Mudavanhu
The Thailand 2026 Story:
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