The moment he entered his office, the dam holding back his anger burst. With a sudden, violent motion, he swept everything off his desk. Papers scattered like fallen leaves, the lamp toppled over with a clatter, and a glass crashed to the floor, shattering into countless pieces. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room, sharp and jagged, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside him.
Breathing heavily, Kiet collapsed into his chair, leaning back as he tried to steady himself. His fists clenched and unclenched on the armrests, and his mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions. He sighed deeply, the sound filled with frustration and something deeper, something darker.
Kiet’s gaze drifted to the lower drawer of his desk, the one he hadn’t touched in years. It sat there, closed and forgotten, much like the memories it held. His hand trembled slightly as he reached down, hesitating for a moment before pulling the drawer open. The sound of it sliding out was almost foreign to him, a soft reminder of a past he had buried deep within.
Under a pile of old files and forgotten papers, something caught his eye. He pushed the documents aside, revealing a photograph. It faded; the colors dulled with time, but the image was still clear. Kiet’s breath hitched as he pulled it out, his fingers tracing the worn edges of the picture.
In the photograph, he saw a family—his family. There he was, young, his face free from the hardness it now carried. He stood tall and proud, with Tawan, his younger brother, positioned between Kiet and another man. The man’s identity was one that Kiet hadn’t allowed himself to think about in years; his presence in the photograph was a painful reminder of what had been lost.
Beside the man, standing close as if she belonged there, was Thanaya's mother, her smile bright and full of life. Her hand lightly touched the man’s arm, a casual but intimate gesture that spoke of a deep connection.
On the chair in front, his parents sat proudly, their expressions serene and content. His father’s arm was draped over his mother’s shoulder, holding her close as they both smiled for the camera. They looked strong and united—everything a family should be.
The photograph seemed to burn in his hand, a stark reminder of everything he’d lost and everything that had been taken from him. The emotions he had worked so hard to bury resurfaced, raw and unfiltered. The anger, the hurt, the resentment—it all came crashing down on him.
The photograph itself held the power to unlock the past. Kiet's mind was suddenly transported back to that fateful night—the night that had changed everything.
Flashback, The same night—accident night,
Kiet’s car careened off the lonely road. The crash was violent, with metal twisting and glass shattering in a cacophony of destruction. Amidst the chaos, Kiet's consciousness was slipping.
Through the haze, he heard Thanaya’s mother’s desperate plea, her voice trembling with fear. “Kiet... the baby... please.”
Kiet’s head turned with great effort as he saw Milo’s father stumbling away, disappearing into the night. As his vision darkened, he caught a final glimpse of Thanaya’s mother, still pleading, her eyes wide with anguish.
Turning his gaze one last time, Kiet saw his parents lying lifeless in the backseat, their bodies twisted and unmoving. The sight was a dagger to his heart, tears streaming down his face as everything faded to black. With a final, ragged breath, Kiet’s world fell into unconsciousness, the image of his parents’ lifeless forms etched into his memory.
Back to present,
Kiet’s grip on the photograph tightened, his tears finally spilling over and running down his face unchecked. The man who was feared and revered, the ruthless figure who never hesitated to make a deadly decision, was now crumpled in a state of vulnerability he had long buried.
The anger Kiet felt toward the man who had caused that accident, who had taken everything from him, was a living thing inside him, burning fiercely. He couldn’t allow himself to forgive, to forget, to move on.
“How could I... How could I let you meet the man who took everything away from me?” he repeated, his voice breaking as he stared down at the image of the family he had lost. The pain of that night was as fresh as if it had happened yesterday—a wound that would never fully heal.
***
Bangkok, Street,
Nuea walked down the street, carrying a bag of food for his family. He was deep in thought, his brow furrowed with concern as he replayed his last conversation with Milo in his mind. The phone call had ended abruptly, and as he muttered to himself, “I hope brother is really fine,” a feeling of unease settled over him.
From a distance, Phurit watched Nuea with a calculating gaze. He was on his bike, idling at the street corner, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. With a smirk curling on his lips, Phurit’s fingers twitched near the throttle.
As Nuea continued to walk, deep in his thoughts, Phurit revved the engine, the roar of the bike growing louder. He adjusted his helmet shield, his smirk turning into a dangerous grin. With a sudden burst of speed, Phurit drove towards Nuea, the bike hurtling through the air with malicious intent.
Phurit accelerated, closing the distance between them rapidly. His bike roared forward, and with a sudden, deliberate movement, he collided with Nuea. The impact sent Nuea sprawling onto the asphalt, the bag of food scattering across the road. The containers and wrappers burst open, the food spilling out in a chaotic mess.
Nuea groaned in pain, clutching his knees, which were now scraped and bruised. He struggled to get up, but the sharp sting in his legs and the disorientation from the fall made it difficult. His face was contorted in agony as he tried to assess the damage.
Phurit skidded to a halt and, with a practiced nonchalance, took off his helmet. A small, calculating smirk played on his lips as he saw Nuea on the ground, clearly in pain.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Phurit said, his voice dripping with false sympathy as he approached Nuea. He crouched down beside him, his tone almost too polite, too insincere. “Are you okay? I didn’t see you there.”
Nuea glared at him, his face contorted with both pain and anger. “Do I look like I’m fine?” he snapped, his voice strained as he struggled to move.
Phurit’s smirk remained as he watched Nuea’s discomfort. “I really am sorry,” he said again, his tone still insincere. “I really didn't see you there.”
Nuea groaned in pain, his gaze drifting to the mess of spilled food scattered across the road. The containers were crushed, and the once neatly packed meal was now a chaotic heap of debris. The sight of the ruined food only added to his frustration and pain. He tried to push himself up, but his scraped knees and bruised body made the task excruciating.
Phurit watched with detached curiosity, maintaining his facade of concern. “I’m really sorry about this,” he repeated, though the insincerity in his voice was unmistakable. “I hope you’re not hurt too badly.”
Nuea’s eyes remained fixed on the mess, his expression a mix of despair and resignation. “Just… just get out of here,” he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration.
Phurit’s eyes flicked to Nuea’s scraped knees, and he feigned surprise. “Oh my god, you’re injured a lot. Let me help you.”
Nuea glared at him, his anger flaring up again. “I don’t need your help. Just get out of here.”
Phurit insisted, his tone still sickeningly sweet. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Let me help you get to a hospital.”
Nuea sighed, his resistance crumbling under the pain and exhaustion. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice tinged with reluctant acceptance.
Bangkok, Hospital, Later,
As soon as they entered the hospital, Phurit guided Nuea to a chair in the waiting area. "Sit here," Phurit said, his voice still laced with faux concern. "Let me get the nurse."
Nuea, still frustrated and in pain, groaned as he looked down at his scraped knees. A few moments later, Phurit returned with a nurse, who immediately kneeled down to examine Nuea’s injuries. She began cleaning the wounds with antiseptic, and the sting was immediate and sharp.
“Owww… ouch… damnit!” Nuea winced, his body tensing up with each dab of the antiseptic-soaked cotton.
Phurit, sensing an opportunity, extended his arm with a smirk. “You can hold on to me if you want,” he offered, his tone dripping with playful confidence.
Nuea eyed Phurit's arm, then looked up at his face, a sarcastic smile spreading across his lips. “Sure,” he replied.
He grabbed onto Phurit’s arm, his grip firm but not too tight—at first. As the nurse continued her work, applying the antiseptic to Nuea’s scraped knees, the sting was immediate and sharp. Nuea’s grip on Phurit’s arm tightened, and then tightened even more. When the nurse dabbed a particularly painful spot, Nuea’s reflexes kicked in. He clenched his fist, squeezing Phurit’s arm with all the force he could muster.
“OW! Hey, not so hard!” Phurit yelped, the smirk vanishing from his face as he tried to pull his arm away. But Nuea held on like a vice, refusing to let go.
The nurse glanced up at Phurit with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Seems like you’re the one who needs some help now,” she remarked, chuckling softly at the sight of the tough-looking Phurit squirming under Nuea’s grip. Nuea, despite the pain in his knees, couldn’t help but let out a small, vindictive smile.
“You’ve got a strong grip for someone so injured,” Phurit muttered, rubbing his arm with a wince, trying to regain his composure.
Nuea shrugged, still smiling, as the nurse finished bandaging his knee. “Next time, don’t tell someone to hold on if you can’t handle it,” he quipped, enjoying the rare moment of turning the tables on Phurit.
Phurit, trying to hide his embarrassment, gave a half-hearted laugh. “Noted,” he replied, shaking his head with a mix of annoyance and reluctant admiration.
"Okay, it's done," the nurse said and left.
"Thank you," Phurit said, and Nuea stood up and turned to leave, still wincing slightly from the pain in his knees, when Phurit called out, “Hey, where are you going?”
“Home, of course,” Nuea replied, his tone impatient. He groaned, rubbing his sore knees as he muttered to himself, “Ugh... I have to buy food again.”
Phurit quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Let me buy it for you,” he offered, his voice more earnest than before.
Nuea looked at him, confusion flickering across his face. “Why?”
“I was the one who hit you and destroyed your food, so I should buy it, right?” Phurit explained, a hint of genuine guilt seeping into his tone.
Nuea scanned him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to gauge Phurit’s intentions. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “No thanks,” he said curtly, turning to leave again.
But Phurit wasn’t done. “At least let me drop you home. You can’t go like this,” he insisted, his concern coming off as more of an annoyance.
Nuea turned back, his annoyance clear. “Hey, I just got injured; I didn’t lose my legs. I can walk by myself, so please, get out of my way.” He limped forward, determined to make his way out on his own.
Phurit watched him go, unable to do anything but stand there, clenching his fist in frustration. As Nuea disappeared from sight, he mumbled to himself, “It’s okay. I can get close to you later. Slowly, step by step.”
As Nuea disappeared down the hallway, Phurit’s resolve only grew stronger. His intentions were not clear; a mix of genuine interest and something more calculating simmered beneath the surface. The playful smirk that tugged at his lips belied the depth of his determination. This was just the beginning. And whatever his plans were, he intended to see them through, one step at a time.
Comments (1)
See all