Chapter Text
Milk stood near the door of the speeding train, the wind lashing against her face with a cold, unforgiving force. Her fingers trembled slightly as her grip loosened over the phone, her thumb hovered over the call. She stared at it for one final time.
Without hesitation, she flung the phone out.
The device spun through the air, vanishing into the night, the rushing wind swallowed the sound. The act was necessary. Severing the only fragile knot she still held to the life she once knew, to the people who she had given her heart to, who would be devastated by her mere silence.
The wind stung her eyes, though she wasn’t sure if it was the cold wind or just the tears she refused to let fall. She shut her eyes tight, willing convincing herself to feel nothing. To be nothing.
But the ache in her chest didn’t subside. The emptiness didn’t go away. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase each memory that made her heart feel like it was caving in on itself.
She pressed a palm against her chest as if to stop the weight pressing down, to silence the storm within which was building up. But it lingered. This was no physical injury yet it felt agonizing, this was guilt, the longing, this was love… and she knew it was betrayal. All bleeding into one, poisoning her from the inside.
Composing herself, she turned and made her way back to the compartment.
Ohm sat quietly, his fingers flying across his laptop keyboard, eyes focused on the screen. His body posture was rigid, too focused. He was connected to their main server, probably running surveillance and monitoring signals.
He didn’t look up at her but he knew she was there.
“Did they receive the message?” he asked plainly.
His voice was the same as always emotionless, neutral, detached. Neither to cold nor too warm. That was Ohm close yet too distant. Even when he cared, he never let it show.
Milk responded with a quiet, indifferent hum. She didn't feel like speaking. Not yet.
Ohm closed the laptop with a soft click, finally glancing at her. His gaze wasn’t hard, but it felt gentle. He was trying to assess her wanting to see how broken she truly was and her line of work didn't allow that feeling were for the one's who considered themselves powerful with true love and they all were broken souls who lost something or cared to much to save what was remaining.
“Lingling and View will reach before sunset tomorrow,” he said.
Milk didn’t respond. She moved to the window and sat down beside it, resting her forehead against the cold metal bars. The night outside was nothing but pitch black, a blur of shadows and motion just like how her mind felt. She wasn’t even looking her eyes simply stared into an unknown void.
She was trying to forget. At least that's what she was trying to commit to herself.
The sound of the train wheels clanking against the rails filled the silence between them. It almost felt meditative, yet it couldn't drown the storm inside her.
Ohm watched her from the corner of his eye. He knew she was unraveling inside, even if her face remained unreadable. The longer he watched, the more that rare flicker of emotion built, after he has lost something he wish he had. Milk had now been the one who sacrificed more than she let on.
“You don’t have to be hard on yourself,” he said quietly, almost like a whisper he wasn’t sure he should’ve voiced.
Milk’s head turned slightly, and her eyes met his, sharp and bitter.
“I’m not,” she said coldly, her tone cutting through the still air.
Ohm looked away instantly, not offended just aware. He knew this version of her. The Milk who was on the brink of breaking and could only hold herself together by pushing everyone else away. He knew better than to push back.
So he didn’t speak again.
The silence grew heavier, thicker. It settled between them like fog, dense and unmovable. Outside, the world was cloaked in darkness. The moon was hidden, and not a single star lit up the sky. It was as if even the universe had turned its back on Milk's poor heart, offering no light, no guidance, no absolution.
All of it clashed violently with the cold reality of what she had done. What she had become. And what she was about to do next.
She had gone too far to turn back now. But she also wasn’t sure how much more she could give without losing herself completely.
Ohm, watching her silently from the opposite end, wondered the same.
How much more could Milk endure before she actually broke?
The journey wasn't long as the train screeched to a halt, and the quiet rumble beneath their feet slowly faded. Milk and Ohm stood with little more than a single duffel bag between them. Everything else they had clothes, names, even friendships had been part of an elaborate illusion. A setup meant to convince, to manipulate, to draw eyes away from the truth.
For a long time, Milk had believed she was in control of the narrative. But somewhere along the line, she’d stopped being the author and become the pawn.
As they stepped off the train and onto the quiet platform, the wind picked up again, brushing past her like a whisper of the past she had left behind.
Standing just beyond the yellow safety line was Nanon.
Tall. Poised. Smiling.
Alive.
Milk froze, her breath catching in her throat. Nanon. Upright. No wheelchair. No fading breath. Her heart skipped a beat.
Nanon grinned and opened his arms, and before she knew it, she was wrapped in his embrace.
"You can walk?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Nanon pulled back, still smiling. "Why? Did you expect me to be dead?"
A painful laugh escaped Milk’s lips, choked and barely formed. "Nanon," she murmured, shaking her head. "I didn’t mean that."
"I know," he said softly. "But death doesn’t take people like me that easily."
Behind them, Ohm adjusted the strap of his bag and raised a brow. "Touching reunion but Khun Mae’s been expecting you. We shouldn’t keep her waiting."
Nanon turned and threw an arm around his husband, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I missed you."
Milk nodded numbly, everything feeling overwhelming for her.
Ohm sat down in the cab, Milk glanced up at the dusky sky. Hoping the heavens for a sign.
"Khun Namtan, I just sent you the traced details of the last known location from the call," June said, her voice firm through the phone. "And you were right, it was picked up midway through the train journey."
"That’s great news," Namtan replied, the faintest breath of relief audible in her tone.
June’s eyes remained fixed on her monitor, her fingers rapidly typing on the keyboard. Data windows shifted, coordinates were aligned, maps recalibrated she kept her attention laser-focused. Her brows drew together as she clicked through files, cross-referencing dates and timestamps.
"I don’t think P’Milk has gone far," June added, scrolling through the data stream. "The train’s final destination is Trat. That’s about six hours from Bangkok. But the last signal we picked up was somewhere between Chonburi and that's around one-third of the way."
She paused, tilting her head slightly as she ran a second diagnostic. "The call could’ve dropped due to tunnels."
"Alright," Namtan responded. "But if you find anything, no matter how small, I want to know. Immediately."
"Yes, Khun Namtan. I’ll do everything I can."
The call ended.
June let out a quiet sigh, adjusting her glasses as she continued typing. Every flicker of movement on the screen pulled her deeper in.
She didn’t even hear the door open.
But she did flinch when it softly clicked shut.
Her eyes snapped up, just above the monitor’s edge, her breath hitched.
Mim stood in front of her desk, wearing a soft smile, tight-lipped. That smile didn’t reach her eyes.
June instinctively straightened. She cleared her throat and forced her voice to remain professional as possible. "Mim. Did you need something? Khun Love and Khun Namtan are both out of town, but if there’s a problem, you can tell me. I’ll help however I can."
Mim shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. "No, no... I actually came to see you."
The unease deepened more.
June blinked. "Me?"
Mim gave a slight nod, stepping closer, the heels of her shoes soft against the cabin floor. There was something too calm about her demeanor. Normally, office staff submitted queries or complaints via emails or the official chat logs. No one just walked in unless it was urgent.
June kept her face neutral, though her instincts screamed for her to stay on edge.
Mim was her colleague, yes but not close. They worked in different departments and barely interacted. Mim had only recently been transferred to this branch after a reshuffling. It was part of Somsak’s larger plan to restructure the upper ranks and reassign control.
June was no fool she very well knew how Somsak was.
She watched Mim lean lightly on the desk, fingers brushing the edge of June’s desk.
"I heard you’re looking into Milk’s whereabouts," Mim said casually, like it was office gossip. Her tone was light. Too light.
June didn’t respond immediately.
"I’m just helping Khun Namtan with some presentations," she said, careful with her words. "Is that something you're interested in?"
Mim’s smile didn't waver. "Not particularly. I just thought… it must be exhausting."
June held her stare, her gut now coiled in discomfort.
"And what about you?" she asked, tone edged with caution. "You adjusting well after switching departments?"
Mim laughed soft and low. "I always find a way."
There it was again. That undertone. Not a threat.
June forced a thin smile. "Of course."
Mim leaned in slightly. "Well, don’t work too late. I’d hate for you to burn out before the truth comes out."
June didn’t move for a long moment. Her breath shallow. The room suddenly felt colder than before.
Mim waved her hand at June who blinked back the weariness in her eyes and forced herself upright as she said, “Oh...sorry, please have a seat.”
Mim smiled as she slid into the chair across from June, settling in with a casual grace that didn’t match the tension which was still hanging in the air.
“How may I help you?” June asked, her voice polite but clipped. Her eyes drifted momentarily to her screen, where Milk’s last known location still flickered in limbo.
Mim rested her forearms on the desk and interlocked her fingers with deliberate calm. “Why don’t we talk over a cup of coffee? You look drained, Khun June.”
June did feel drained. Her entire body ached after sitting stiffly at the desk all night, her muscles protesting every movement. She’d been glued to the screen, piecing together digital breadcrumbs that might lead her to Milk or to View, who still hadn’t responded to any of her calls or messages.
Still, her mind refused to leave this very room. Not until she had answers.
She rubbed her eyes, sat straighter, and said, “Sorry. I don’t drink coffee. But if you’d like to talk, we can do it here unless you have a problem with that.”
Mim chuckled, a practiced kind of laugh, low and almost too charming. “June, come on. You look exhausted. Let’s step out for a minute. You deserve a break. Freshen up.”
June cut in, her tone polite but unwavering. “Thank you for your concern, Mim. But I’m fine. And if there’s a problem, I’ll be able to solve it right here.”
There was a faint shift in Mim’s smile. Not enough to be noticed by someone unfamiliar, but June caught it something flickering behind her eyes.
“Okay,” Mim relented smoothly, withdrawing a sleek file from her bag. “Well, I received this file after the conference yesterday. I thought it belonged to Khun Love, so I came to give it to her but unfortunately, she isn’t here.”
June reached for it without hesitation. “You can give it to me. I’ll pass it on. I manage Khun Love’s files and paperwork. It’s part of my job as her secretary.”
But just as her fingers grazed the edge of the folder, Mim pulled it back ever so slightly.
“Actually,” she said, tone light but firm, “I think it’s personal. I should probably give it to her myself.”
June’s smile didn’t falter, but her hand remained extended. “No, really it’s fine. Khun Love trusts me with her personal documents too. You can leave it with me. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
There was a brief pause. Mim’s eyes searched June’s face for a crack in her composure but she found none.
Eventually, Mim placed the folder gently in June’s hand. “Suit yourself, Khun June. Take care. And… thanks for your time.”
She rose from her seat with the same grace she’d entered with and quietly exited the room.
June waited until the door had fully closed before letting her expression shift. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the file, something about Mim definitely felt oddly off.
Still, she followed protocol slipping the folder into Love’s locked drawer, where personal files were always kept.
Only then did she return to her screen. And finally after hours of digital dead-ends, a signal lit up across her tracing system.
Location traced: View & Lingling- Active signal.
Her eyes widened. She scanned the coordinates. Chonburi. It was same direction Milk had taken.
She didn’t waste a second.
Attaching the detailed location and signal confirmation, she fired off a message to Namtan’s secure line:
Namtan’s phone buzzed sharply, the screen lighting up with a message from June.
[June]:Tracked View and Lingling. Location aligns with Milk’s last known signal near Orm’s route. Updates incoming.
Namtan’s heart dropped. She stared at the coordinates.
Before she could even process the implications, Love stepped forward, already resolute.
“I’ll leave for Chonburi,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about Phi Milk I’ll go find her.”
Namtan turned to her younger sister, something twisting in her gut.
“No, Nong. It’s better if you stay back and manage the company,” she said firmly, placing a protective hand on Love’s head. “It’ll be safer for you.”
But Love didn’t flinch. She looked at Namtan dead in the eye, her voice low but filled with unshakable emotions. “Phi, I’m sorry, but I’m not a kid anymore. I know you’re trying to protect me, but what’s important to you is just as important to me. You’re not the only one who cares. I don’t even care about the company...I never have.”
Without a subtle warning, Love dropped to her knees.
She folded her hands together, bowing before Namtan.
Her voice cracking with each word as she begged, “Please, Phi… please let me go... search for Milk. I can’t… I don’t- know how to breathe without her. I need to know she’s okay. I just want her back. Please… I beg you. My life… it’s hers. Please let me go.”
Namtan immediately crouched beside Love, catching her sister in her arms before she collapsed completely.
“Hey, hey…” Namtan whispered, holding her tightly. “Nong… Love, breathe…”
But Love couldn’t stop. Her face was buried in Namtan’s shoulder, and her muffled voice broke through again, trembling and desperate.
“Phi… please… I just want my P'Milk back.”
Namtan’s chest ached. She rubbed her hand gently along Love’s back, trying to calm her, but her own heart was ripping off. The weight of everything the risks, the danger was bearing down too hard. Especially on Love.
Namtan wanted to be strong. She needed to be. But the more she tried to hold herself together, the more it felt like she was falling apart with every passing second.
She closed her eyes. Took a breath. And said softly, “Love… Nong… please…” her voice carrying a weight of fear.
But Love didn’t move. Her hands still clasped in a pleading gesture, her shoulders shaking.
“I don’t want anything else,” she whispered. “I just want to go with you. Please Phi.”
Namtan could no longer fight it. She exhaled slowly, finally nodding her head, her voice gentle.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Love. Stop crying now, please. We’ll find Milk. Together”
Love clung to her, tears silently soaking into Namtan’s shirt. Her body trembled with each hiccup and sob, her voice reduced to barely audible whimpers.
Namtan held her tighter, stroking her hair, letting her cry.
She gently helped Love to her feet and guided her to the couch. Love's legs felt weak, but she Namtan still stood besides her like a pillar. Once they were seated, she leaned forward slightly, her arms hugging Namtan as tears kept streaming down her face.
Namtan was trying her best to comfort her.
Love’s voice came out in muffled gasps between sobs. The only words Namtan could make sense were: “Please… I need Milk… I want to come…”
The weight in Namtan’s chest grew heavier. She felt helpless, utterly powerless. Love had lost her everything. Milk had disappeared. And Namtan… she hadn’t been able to protect either of them.
Slow footsteps approached them. Namtan looked up to see Sea walking slowly, almost cautiously, toward the couch. The boy’s eyes were wide with worry, his small face filled with concern.
Namtan offered him a soft, reassuring smile, even as her own eyes held exhaustion.
Sea raised a small finger and gently poked Love’s arm.
Love didn’t respond at first, still caught in her silent storm of grief.
From across the room, Namtan noticed Film standing near the breakfast table. Film gave her a quiet, encouraging nod.
Sea poked again. “Auntie Love…”
Love’s tear-streaked face turned slightly, her red eyes finally registering the small boy beside her.
Sea held up a chocolate bar in his hands, carefully offering it towards her.
“For you,” he said simply.
Love blinked. Her lips trembled as she looked between Sea and the chocolate. There was no pity in his expression only innocent care.
“If you want…” Sea said shyly, “you can also hug me.”
That pulled a small, breathy laugh from Love. It was quiet and choked.
Sea looked up at Namtan. “Mai, can I hug Auntie Love?”
Namtan’s heart melted. She ruffled his hair and smiled gently. “Ask her. I have no problem.”
Sea turned back to Love eagerly.
Love gave a shaky nod, and Sea didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his tiny arms around her neck with all the warmth his little body could offer.
Love’s arms slowly, carefully came around him, holding him close. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Sea…”
Sea pulled back just enough to look at her. Then, without warning, he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
“When I cry,” he said seriously, “Mama gives me a kissy and everything becomes nice.”
Love gave a teary smile. Her lips trembled again, but this time from emotion that wasn’t pain alone.
Sea smiled proudly. “You also happy now, okay?”
Namtan wiped her eyes discreetly and chuckled.
She stood and reached out her hand. “Now come, let’s get you changed into your uniform or you’ll be late for school.”
Sea made a small whining noise and pouted.
Namtan leaned down and coaxed, “Come on champ. Auntie Love will eat that chocolate all alone if you don’t hurry.”
That worked. Sea gasped and quickly slid off to follow Namtan.
Love held the chocolate bar tightly in her lap, eyes still wet, but her chest felt lighter.
Film walked up to the couch, holding a plate of warm breakfast. She gently placed it in front of Love.
Caught off guard, Love quickly began wiping her face, trying to hide the traces of her tears. “Th–thank you,” she managed to say, her voice still shaking.
Film gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “You go find Milk.”
Love looked up, her eyes searching Film’s face. Film reached out, cupping Love’s cheek and gently brushing away the tear stains with her thumb.
“But… what about Phi?” Love whispered.
“I’ll talk to your sister,” Film said calmly. “I know she’s stubborn, but she also loves you. Just give her a little time.”
Love’s eyes shimmered again not with tears of sadness this time, but with admiration. Her chest ached, but somehow, she felt held. Cared for.
“Okay,” Film continued, her tone lightening, “now go freshen up before your breakfast gets cold.”
Love chuckled, wiping the last of her tears as distant sounds from the other room caught her attention Sea whining about wanting a new pouch, and Namtan was explaining patiently that he already had a perfectly good one. It was oddly comforting, hearing the morning chaos of a house that felt like home.
For so long, Love had yearned for her mother, yearned for the kind of steady quiet love of family that Film gave her now. Somehow, without even trying, Film was filling that aching space in her heart.
Love felt the hope that she would find Milk. That they would be together again.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp scream from the kitchen.
“Who took my chocolate?!” Bonnie shouted, standing in front of the open fridge, letting a wave of cold air flood the room. She looked furious. “I kept it for P’Emi!”
Film turned towards the kitchen and called out, “Nong, it might have slipped under the vegetable shelf.”
Bonnie frowned. “I already checked, P’Film! It’s not there!”
Film smiled at Love, excused herself, and walked into the kitchen. Bonnie stood pouting near the fridge.
Kneeling down, Film started searching carefully. She reached behind the juice carton and smiled. “Found it.”
She held up the chocolate triumphantly. Bonnie’s eyes lit up as she snatched it from Film’s hand.
“Thank you, P’Film!” Bonnie beamed. “Now I can give this to P’Emi!”
Film closed the fridge with a chuckle. “Sea might’ve dropped it when he took out one for Love.”
Bonnie giggled and wrapped her arms around Film’s waist in a quick hug.
From outside, Namtan honked the car horn. “Come on, guys! Hurry up or we’ll be late!”
Bonnie ran toward the door but stopped, realizing one of her shoelaces had come undone. She bent down clumsily to fix it.
“Hold still, Nong,” Love said, getting up from the couch and kneeling beside her.
Bonnie stood still as Love expertly tied the shoelace into a neat bow.
“There,” Love said with a small smile.
Bonnie grinned and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on Love’s cheek. “Bye-bye, Phi!”
Love smiled. “Bye, Nong.”
The car came to a halt in front of the school gates. Sea and Bonnie got off.
“Bye, Mai!” Sea called out cheerfully as he adjusted his backpack and ran ahead toward the entrance.
Bonnie, however, didn’t follow him. She stood still, clutching the straps of her bag tightly, her teeth lightly biting her bottom lip. Something was clearly bothering her.
Namtan had just started to pull away when she noticed through the rearview mirror that Bonnie still hadn’t moved.
Rolling down the window, she called out gently, “What’s the matter, Nong?”
Bonnie hesitated, her voice small and uncertain as she asked, “Phi… when will P’View be back?”
Namtan felt a twist in her chest. She didn’t want Bonnie to worry, didn’t want her to feel the weight of something she couldn't control. So, she forced a smile onto her face.
“View’s gone for a very important meeting, Nong,” she said warmly. “I promise she’ll be back by the weekend.”
Bonnie looked up at her with wide eyes. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Namtan said again, more firmly this time. “Now go on, you don’t want to keep Emi waiting for you, do you?”
Bonnie blushed, her cheeks coloring. “Okay, Phi. Bye… love you.”
Namtan smiled and waved. “Love you too, Nong.”
As Bonnie turned and hurried toward the school, Namtan finally pulled away, the engine humming softly. But her mind was far from calm. Behind that composed smile, her thoughts churned with chaos and concern.
Lingling held Orm close, the girl’s body slumped softly against her shoulder, head resting like a feather. Orm’s hair had fallen over her face in sleep, serene and innocent, the very picture of how Lingling remembered her from their old days. That clumsy, wide-eyed girl still hadn’t changed.
Lingling stayed in that quiet moment admiring Orm, until View suddenly shouted, “Fuck!”
Startled, Lingling gently eased Orm over to the side, leaning her carefully near the door. She folded her coat into a cushion to rest Orm’s head, then stepped out of the car. “What happened?”
View was inspecting the engine, brows furrowed in frustration. “The wires. I swear, I don’t get why people still buy cars from my dad’s company.”
Lingling crossed her arms and scoffed. “Isn’t that exactly why there’ve been so many deaths linked to him?”
View didn’t deny it. She just gave a tired, bitter smile. “I wish he wasn’t like this.”
Lingling looked at the exposed, lifeless engine. “Can’t you fix it?”
View raised her hands in exasperation. “Well, unless my business management degree suddenly includes mechanical engineering, no—I can’t.”
She paused, then added with a small, fond smile, “But if P’Namtan were here, she’d probably touch it and fix it like magic.”
Lingling chuckled at the admiration in View’s voice. “Namtan really is one of a kind.”
“But now what?” she asked, glancing around at the empty road and the dimming sky.
View peered through the window at Orm’s unconscious form. “We walk.”
Lingling looked down the long, dusty road ahead. “It’ll take us another hour. We were supposed to get to Pattaya there before sundown… and now we’re stuck.”
“It’s either walk,” View said, shrugging, “or wait here for help.”
“And what about Orm?” Lingling asked.
“We carry her,” View replied without hesitation.
Lingling gave her a deadpan look, pointing at their formal suits. “Literally? Like this?”
“Well,” View smirked, “we could say she fainted and hope someone picks us up.”
Lingling sighed. “Fine.”
View stepped forward to help carry Orm, but Lingling stopped her with a raised hand. “I can manage.”
View gave a mock bow. “As you wish, ma’am.”
Lingling lifted Orm onto her back, adjusting her weight gently. She could feel Orm’s steady breath against her shoulder.
They walked until, thankfully, a small bus stop appeared ahead.
Lingling gently placed Orm on the bench, brushing the strands of hair from her face as she settled her into a more comfortable position. Her own shoulder throbbed in pain, but she ignored it.
View looked at her with concern. “I told you I could’ve carried her halfway. You didn’t have to do it all alone.”
Lingling rolled her shoulder, wincing slightly. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
View glanced around. “Do buses even come out here?”
Lingling pointed to the faded schedule board. “They should. Says one’s due in ten minutes.”
View sat down beside her, watching Lingling pull off her coat and wrap it around Orm protectively.
“Do you even know where we are?” View asked, her voice edged with suspicion. “Or is this just a shot in the dark?”
“I know,” Lingling replied calmly. “Pattaya isn’t far now. Twenty minutes by bus, maybe less. We’re almost there.”
She paused, then turned to View. “You’ve only been here once, right?”
View nodded, her expression tightening as old memories stirred. Lingling saw it and thought of staying quiet, not wanting to push but View spoke first, bitterness lacing her voice.
“After Mom died. Mae came for the burial.” She stared ahead, the sunset casting golden shadows across her face. “If it weren’t for her, Dad would’ve left us with nothing. She’s the one who gave me the courage to stand up to him… to do something on my own.”
She let out a scoff. “Dad was surprised when I came back. Probably thought I’d fail without him.”
Lingling didn’t interrupt. She simply listened, allowing View the space to spill what was clearly long buried.
The sky slowly dimmed, the sun bowing down behind the trees as dusk embraced them. Headlights glowed in the distance. A bus finally pulled up with a sigh of brakes and a creak of doors.
View rose and gently swung Orm’s arm over her shoulder, helping her inside.
Lingling followed, eyes sweeping over the handful of passengers inside.
Everyone had their story.
And somehow, destiny had woven theirs into one road.
Film's eyes were fixed on the lines of code on her laptop screen. She was still trying to track the server coordinates. The signal had been down since the last trace, and every attempt to reconnect had hit a wall. Her mind was deep in focus when two warm arms wrapped around her neck, and a soft kiss pressed against her temple.
Film smiled faintly and placed her hand over Namtan’s arm.
“Having any trouble?” Namtan asked, her voice low, comforting.
“Just some office work,” Film replied, not wanting to worry her. “Lingling’s not around, so I’m handling a few cases.”
Namtan moved toward the bed, picking up a small duffle bag and starting to pack it. Film watched her for a moment, then closed the laptop with a soft snap and stood.
“You’ll find them,” she said gently.
Namtan turned toward her with a half-smile, taking Film’s hands into hers. “I know… but…”
“But?” Film prompted, her voice calm.
Namtan exhaled, trying to keep her doubts from surfacing again.
Film didn’t let her finish. “You got this,” she said with quiet conviction, squeezing Namtan’s hands. “You always do.”
Namtan’s expression softened. “Thank you… for being patient with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Film tilted her head and smirked. “Well… nothing.”
Namtan let out an exaggerated gasp, feigning offense.
Film laughed, tugging her closer. Namtan leaned into her briefly before pulling away.
“Where’s Love?” she asked.
“In her room, packing,” Film answered.
Namtan nodded. “I’ll just check on her.”
She walked quietly toward the guest room, her footsteps light. As she neared the slightly ajar door, she paused there were faint voices coming from inside.
It was Love. She was on a call.
And from the tone of her voice, Namtan could sense something wasn't sounding good.
“Dad, I’m not coming home.”
Love’s voice was firm sharp and even. There was no room left for compromise.
On the other end of the call, Somsak’s tone grew more urgent. “Love, my child, you’re being manipulated. This is all just a distraction to keep you from taking your rightful place in the company.”
Love’s eyes narrowed, her grip on the phone tightening. “If you’re trying to turn me against Phi Saao, then I’m sorry Dad. I won’t betray her.”
Somsak sighed, his voice deepening with frustration. “Business doesn’t run on emotions, Love. You need to build your own legacy, not trail behind someone like a shadow. Namtan, she’s using you. She just wants you following her like a loyal dog wagging their tail behind her.”
“Dad, you’re crossing the line,” Love snapped, her tone low but laced with fury.
“I’m crossing the line?” Somsak scoffed. “That friend of hers Milk and the rest of them, they’ve brainwashed you into thinking I’m the villain here. But I’m your father. I care about you. I want you home, safe and sound.”
Love’s voice broke slightly. “If you really cared, then please stop saying such things about Phi… or Milk.”
“This… this life you’re choosing won’t lead anywhere good. We have everything here. You don’t need to stay in that pest-infested nest Namtan calls home. This empire "everything" it’s yours and Orm’s.”
“What about View?” Love challenged, her voice rising. “Isn’t she your daughter too? And Bonnie? And P'Namtan? Do they mean nothing to you?”
“Love, don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” Somsak barked. “Just because I tolerate your defiance doesn’t mean you can speak to me however you want. I don’t want you lingering around any of them. As for View and Bonnie I’ll be having them return to London as soon as possible.”
Love let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t even know where your own kids are. How do you plan on sending them anywhere?”
There was silence on the other end.
“I hope someday,” Love said, her voice trembling, “you’ll understand what it really means to care about your own blood.”
And with that, she ended the call.
Her hands trembled as she dropped the phone onto the bed. Her chest ached, her father’s words still clinging to her skin like smoke.
Namtan didn’t budge at the door. She knew Love needed a moment some space to breathe after the call. Instead of rushing in, she composed herself and knocked lightly.
Inside, Love quickly zipped up her bag, brushing away any lingering emotion. “Come in,” she said, voice steady but her eyes still faintly red.
Namtan opened the door, her tone casual. “The ride’s here.”
Love nodded, picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.
Namtan hesitated. “Are you sure you want to come?” there was a subtle crack in her voice fear, doubt, maybe even guilt.
But Love didn’t waver. “Yes, Phi.”
Namtan offered a soft smile in return and walked with her to the living room. She pulled Film into a gentle hug. “We’re off.”
Film clung a little longer than usual. “Take care of each other.”
Love smiled, placing a reassuring hand on Film’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Film. I’ll bring your wife back safe and sound.”
Film let out a small laugh while Namtan flushed lightly. “We’re not married yet.”
Love rolled her eyes fondly. “So what? You two already act like you’ve been happily married with two kids.”
Namtan chuckled and opened the door. “Okay, okay, let’s go.”
Just before she stepped out, Film caught her hand. “Just know...I love you.”
Namtan turned and pressed a kiss to Film’s forehead. “I know,” she whispered, smiling. Then she stepped out, Love right behind her.
The recess bell rang loudly across the school campus, triggering an eager wave of students pouring out of classrooms. Laughter and chatter filled the corridors as kids rushed either to the ground or toward their friend groups.
Among them, Bonnie quietly stepped out from her classroom, holding her tiffin box tightly to her chest. Her eyes darted around, scanning the crowd as she made her way toward the 10th-grade section. Compared to the younger kids she usually mingled with, this hallway felt overwhelming. Taller students pushed past her, caught up in their own worlds, making Bonnie feel even smaller.
She finally reached outside the Grade 10 classroom. Standing just to the side of the door, she peeked inside, her gaze searching for someone.
She spotted Emi.
Emi was laughing with a group of classmates near the back of the room. Bonnie smiled shyly and lifted her hand to wave, trying to get Emi’s attention. But her wave went unnoticed. Emi was too caught up in the conversation.
Bonnie shifted her weight awkwardly, her fingers tightening around the box.
A student exiting the class noticed her. The girl slowed down, a sharp smirk curling at her lips.
“Hey… aren't you that kid from the news?” she sneered loud enough for others to hear, stepping toward Bonnie.
Bonnie stiffened. Her shoulders pulled in, and she instinctively took a step back.
“Yeah, I remember now,” the older girl said, approaching her slowly, voice laced with mockery. “Your Mom’s the one who was the CEO's mistress, right? That’s what my sister told me—”
“Stop it!” a voice snapped behind her.
It was Emi.
She’d finally seen Bonnie and what was happening.
Emi stood up from her seat, her brows furrowed, ready to step in.
But she didn’t need to.
Before Emi could reach them, the older girl suddenly recoiled with a yelp. Everyone blinked confused until they saw the source of the reaction.
Bonnie’s fist was still raised in the air, trembling slightly.
She had punched the girl.
Right in the nose.
Time froze for a second.
The older girl stumbled backward from the blow and, in a clumsy twist of fate, fell onto Emi, who caught her out of reflex.
The classroom fell silent. A few kids who had seen the scene unfold gasped, while others leaned in, stunned.
Emi stared at Bonnie in disbelief, the dazed girl still leaning against her. Bonnie looked back at them her eyes turning wide, chest rising and falling rapidly.
The older girl held her nose and glared, eyes watering.
“You’ll pay for this!” she screamed, her voice breaking slightly from shock and pain.
A sudden wave of anxiety flooded Bonnie. Her confidence shattered under the weight of everyone’s eyes. She clutched her tiffin tightly and bolted down the corridor, weaving between the crowd.
“Bonnie!” Emi called out, pushing the girl gently toward one of her friends. “Take her to the nurse!”
Without waiting, Emi ran after Bonnie.
Bonnie didn’t stop until she reached the girls’ washroom.
She rushed inside, her breath shallow, and locked herself in one of the stalls.
Her legs buckled as the rush of adrenaline wore off. She sat down on the closed toilet seat, clutching her tiffin to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.
Why did I do that?
Her eyes welled up as her thoughts spiraled.
She hadn't meant to cause a scene. She just... couldn’t take the insult against her mother.
Outside, Emi was running through the corridors, scanning every corner she passed. Students were heading back to their classes as the bell rang, leaving the hallways quieter. When Emi noticed the shrinking crowd around the bathrooms, something tugged at her instinct.
She stepped into the nearly empty washroom, the quiet broken only by the sound of soft, shaky breathing coming from the last stall.
Emi stopped. She recognized that sound.
She didn’t want to scare her, so she slowly walked towards the stall, her footsteps light.
Knock knock.
"Bonnie?" she said softly.
The breathing stopped for a moment.
"It’s me, Emi," she added gently. "Please… it’s okay. You can trust me."
Silence.
Emi leaned closer, her voice reassuring. “You don’t have to hide. I promise, I'm not mad. I just want to make sure you're okay.”
After a moment, the stall door creaked open slightly. A small eye peeked out, and then the door opened fully.
Bonnie stood there, her hand still tightly gripping her tiffin.
Emi gave her a soft, reassuring smile.
Bonnie stepped out.
Emi immediately looked her over, worried. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” she asked, gently holding Bonnie’s arm. “I’m so sorry. Pim can be a real jerk sometimes.”
Bonnie quickly shook her head. “No, no, P’Emi… I’m fine. And it’s my fault. I punched her. I shouldn’t have...”
Emi interrupted softly, “Hey… she provoked you. You were defending yourself. That’s not your fault.”
Bonnie looked down, unsure.
Emi tried to meet her eyes. “You sure you’re okay? Want me to get you some water?”
Bonnie waved her hand quickly. “No, no, it’s okay, Phi. Really.”
Emi nodded, giving her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Alright. But if anything’s bothering you even if it the slightest thing you can always tell me, okay?”
Bonnie gave a small nod, comforted by Emi’s warmth.
“Come on, I’ll walk you back to class,” Emi said as she turned to lead the way. “I’ll tell the teacher what really happened.”
Bonnie followed quietly behind.
Noticing the distance between them, Emi turned her head and chuckled. “Why are you walking behind me like a bodyguard? Come on, we walk together.”
Bonnie giggled shyly and picked up her pace to walk beside her.
Emi smiled. “By the way, did you need something? Or were you just passing by my class?”
Bonnie hesitated for a second, then admitted bashfully, “Actually… I came to say thank you...for yesterday.”
Emi tilted her head and smiled. “That wasn’t necessary, Nong. But it’s sweet of you.”
Bonnie reached into her tiffin and pulled out a small bar of chocolate. She held it out with both hands, bowing her head slightly. “This is for you, Phi…”
Emi blinked, surprised, then took the chocolate with a wide smile.
They reached Bonnie’s classroom. The teacher glanced up.
“Where were you, Bonnie?” she asked.
“I was in the washroom,” Bonnie said politely.
The teacher nodded. “Alright, take your seat.”
Bonnie turned back and smiled at Emi one last time before heading to her desk.
Emi looked down at the chocolate in her hand and smiled to herself.
Somsak slammed his phone to the ground, the screen shattering. His breath heaved in fury as he grabbed his glass of rum and took a long, bitter sip. His eyes burned, the rage twisting his features.
“My blood,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “My own blood.”
Mark stood stiffly nearby, his head bowed, hands clasped behind his back.
Somsak’s gaze snapped to him. “What did you get this time?” he demanded.
Mark remained silent, his shoulders tense.
“You’re useless!” Somsak roared, slamming the empty glass down onto the table. “I sent you to lure that Namtan and you couldn’t even do that!”
His fists tightened, knuckles white with pressure. He stared at the broken phone on the floor as if it were the cause of all his problems. “That girl,” he growled. “She reminds me of that Weerawatnodom . The arrogance. The defiance. I buried every last one of them… but her.”
Mark hesitated before speaking. “But sir… why do you want her gone so badly?”
Somsak scoffed, reaching for the bottle to refill his glass. “At first, I thought she’d be easy a soft little thing, vulnerable. I tried pulling her in, getting her close. But she slipped out. Clever girl. Too clever.” He sipped again, slower this time. “I was happy when she left. That meant Love could finally step into her place… take over, just as I planned.”
Mark spoke carefully, “But sir… Khun Love admires Namtan. She sees her like a Mentor. Why would she ever turn against her?”
Somsak chuckled darkly. “If she won’t, then we’ll make her.”
Mark raised his eyes slightly, unease flickering in his expression. “How?”
A wicked smile slowly curved across Somsak’s face, a chilling calm settling over his voice.
“Just watch, Mark. That happy little family of theirs?” He swirled the liquid in his glass. “It’ll rot from the inside. Piece by piece. Every joy will become their very curse. Every bond will become their burden.”
Mark gave a slight smile, sensing the sinister satisfaction in his master’s voice.
But Somsak’s eyes narrowed as he snapped, “What are you smiling at? Focus on the task I had given you.”
He stood, walking slowly past Mark. “I want Namtan separated from that Ohm’s family. One by one, I want them gone. I don’t want their dirt near my empire. Not a stain. Not a whisper of even their existence.”
His voice dropped into a low growl. “And as for Namtan she won’t have to fall. She’ll break. The more her loved ones suffer… the more she’ll tear herself apart. Alone. Helpless feeling the agony.”
Somsak stared out the window into the night, the city glittering below like it was his to claim.
“She’ll mourn them while we watch,” he whispered, “and she won’t even see it coming.”
Just as Somsak finished speaking, a soft knock echoed at the door.
A smooth, confident voice followed. “May I come in, sir?”
Somsak’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. “Come in, Mewnich,” he said, his voice dripping with approval.
The door opened with a quiet click, and Mewnich stepped in with a confident stride, heels clicking against the floor.
Her presence felt calculated and sharp. She stopped just in front of Mark and Somsak, hands folded neatly.
Somsak gestured casually toward her. “Mark, this is Mewnich.”
Mark didn’t lift his gaze. His eyes remained locked on the floor, shoulders stiff.
Somsak noticed and chuckled darkly. “What’s the matter? Don’t be shy. She’s not here to charm you she’s here to destroy what’s you couldn't even try to do.”
He turned to Mewnich, eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction.
Mark stiffened, a sudden wave of dread washing over him. He slowly glanced up at Mewnich, whose calm expression didn’t waver. Their eyes met for a fleeting second hers unreadable, his filled with unease before he looked away again.
Mewnich broke the silence with a steady voice. “Uncle, you don’t have to worry,” she said, her tone smooth but resolute. “I won’t disappoint you.”
Somsak’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. He leaned back into his chair, swirling his drink.
“Definitely not, my child,” he replied. “You’ll be the beginning of the end for all of them.”
He raised his glass in a silent toast.