Chapter 5

Oil on the Fire

That gaze—arrogant and piercing—paired with his overconfident demeanor and the expression of superiority etched on his face, cornered her completely. Was he really expecting her to follow him all the way home, to his bedroom even? Was this about taking care of Mongkutmook—or someone else entirely?

“So, are you coming along to take care of Mook or not?” The young man pressed.

“I’ll be sure to remember your name, Boramat. Very well indeed.”

Remember it indeed… the name of the man that she would avoid at all costs.

“From here on out, do as you like.”

“Oh? Giving up so easily now?”

“I have better uses for my time than arguing with someone unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?”

“Yes. You’re being selfish and inconsiderate of Mook’s feelings.” How he could find ways to stir conflict up to the very last word was beyond her. She’d just been about to end the conversation herself when he dragged it back to life as kindling for his next taunt.

“I want Mook back with family. That is the reason.”

“Well, your reasons don’t hold up.”

“Oh? And where, exactly, don’t they hold up?” The man smirked. The person in front of him must be extremely enraged, as evidenced by the angry flush on her honey-colored cheeks.

“Everywhere!”

“And aren’t you the one looking for an excuse to argue?”

“Eh?!” Patsasika’s patience was now sub-zero; Boramat was far more exasperating than Mongkutmook on any given day.

“What’s with the ‘eh'?”

“Why do you insist on giving me such a hard time, Mr. Matt?”

“Oh, I’m giving you a hard time? Maybe you should think that one over, Nurse Sor. Better go say your goodbyes to Mook, too; you won’t see her after this evening.”

The young woman was fuming, as if smoke were coming out of her ears. He’d thrown a grenade and tried to waltz off as if it were nothing—when she’d almost walked away from him first.

…She lost again.

Paramee stood hesitantly outside the large two-story house, her nerves steeled as she pressed the doorbell. Her dark brown eyes glanced around through the iron gates which bore Italian craftsmanship, taking in the house and grounds. It had been five years since she’d last set foot here. The house’s fresh cream paint was warm and inviting, and the trees had grown significantly. In the far-left corner of the estate stood a smaller house—charming and irresistible to look at.

It was her ex-husband’s new home…with his new wife.

Ever since Keeradit’s car accident last month, he had been hospitalized. Though Paramee knew she would hardly be welcomed from her ex-mother-in-law, her heart couldn’t ignore the pull to see him—the first and only love of her life. As expected, Mrs. Grongthong had received her coldly, accusing her of being there to rub salt in the wounds now that Keeradit might remain in a vegetative state forever.

Still, Paramee went to visit him daily, sometimes crossing paths with Grongthong and sometimes not. She had yet to meet her ex-husband’s new wife or their young son, who was now about four years old. She had asked Grongthong about them, only to be told that Kanokkorn had taken her son back to America to help with her father’s restaurant business. But was it so easy to abandon the person she supposedly loved?

“What are you doing here again?”

The voice of the middle-aged woman startled her out of her thoughts.

“I came to visit P’Dit. Could I come in, please?”

“I thought I made it clear at the hospital yesterday, didn’t I? It’s more than enough that I even allowed you to visit Dit each day. Now that my son is back home, you need to stop meddling in our family’s affairs.”

‘Our family.’

The words struck deep, rekindling the same pain Paramee had felt on the day she had been forced to sign the divorce papers without even a chance to make amends with her husband.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Grongthong. I'm here to see P’Dit as a friend, or even as a younger sister. There’s nothing more to it."

"He has a new wife and child. Even if you say you're just a friend, everyone around will think you're here to rekindle things with your ex-husband. Or maybe it’s not just everyone else…maybe you're the one hoping to become his mistress."

Those biting words cut deep, reminding Paramee that she no longer had any place in Keeradit's life. No claim, not even as a friend. Boramat had been right—she shouldn’t have come here, opening herself up to Mrs. Grongthong’s scorn. But how could she just sit back when her ex-husband lay unconscious, cared for only by his mother, with no sign of his wife or son around to offer comfort?

"With Mrs. Nok away, can you really manage to take care of P’Dit alone? He's not exactly small—bathing and turning him can’t be easy."

"I manage just fine. I’ve got plenty of household help here, so I'll put them to good use," Grongthong replied, crossing her arms and tilting her chin.

"And they’re capable of taking care of P’Dit well?" Caring for a bedridden person was no easy task, and even harder if they couldn’t move independently. They required round-the-clock attention.

"Are you suggesting you know better than I do? Go back to your own home and don’t come back here."

Paramee sighed, losing hope. Even if she begged all day, she wouldn’t be let into the house. Besides, she needed to catch her flight and get back to manage the brewing issues between Boramat and Mongkutmook, which she'd finally gotten word of from Ganthorn.

"Alright, I'll leave for now," her slender hands pressed together in a respectful wai. "But I will be back. I refuse to let P’Dit stay in this condition without someone properly caring for him."

"You have some nerve."

"My intentions are pure. Once Mrs. Nok returns or P’Dit improves, I’ll step back willingly. And just so you know, I’ve arranged for a male nurse to come take care of P’Dit. If you won't let me in, that’s fine, but please allow him to enter to help care for P’Dit."

With that, Paramee turned and quickly got into her car, driving away before she could hear any more insults from Mrs. Grongthong. Though she’d kept a strong face in front of her, the truth was, her heart was terribly fragile.

Though she should have felt relieved, Paramee’s heart grew heavy as she approached Mongkutmook’s private patient room later that evening. The young woman had changed into her own clothes and wore an expression that clearly showed her discontent. Mongkutmook left Paramee find no words to offer. Yet in that moment, it seemed their eyes communicated more effectively than words ever could. Everything came to an abrupt halt when Boramat entered, so she had to excuse herself quickly, leaving without even a proper goodbye.

"Too bad, huh? There goes a nice chunk of change."

That was the taunting greeting from Palin the moment Paramee walked into the nurses’ lounge.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Your precious Ms. Mongkutmook, of course. Her brother’s transferring her somewhere else, isn’t he? What’s the reason—wants her closer to home, or couldn’t handle a lousy private nurse?"

Patsasika pursed her lips several times as Palin applied a coat of deep maroon matte lipstick, then shrugged in her colleague’s direction.

"Think what you like." Already mentally drained from dealing with Boramat, now she had to handle Palin’s attitude.

"Aren't you going to defend yourself?"

"Why should I? You’d just accuse me of making excuses. Think what makes you happy; I don’t care anymore."

The sharp-tongued nurse looked disappointed, clearly irritated by Patsasika’s unshakable composure.

"You could at least try to put up a fight."

"Don’t you have better things to do than look for trouble? You've been at this since nursing school and still haven't had enough?"

"No way, messing with you is my favorite pastime."

Patsasika closed her eyes slowly. One day, when she had some free time, she should really tie Palin to a wheelchair and roll her down to the psychiatric ward.

"How about using your time to work instead? You’ve got a shift today, don’t you? Better get yourself all dolled up—P’Chor should be coming in soon."

"P’Chor!" Damn it. She’d completely forgotten that P’Chor was working today as well.

"Who called my name?"

Chorlada opened the door just in time to catch sight of Palin looking stunned. She had guessed that her subordinate was probably slacking off, sitting there fussing over her makeup.

"Now that you’re all dolled up, off you go—time to take care of patients and start earning your paycheck."

"Y…Yes, ma’am, right away. I just stopped by for a quick drink, that’s all. Honestly, P’Chor," The young woman grabbed her nursing cart and dashed out of the room.

"A quick drink, huh? Smells more like you took a bath in perfume."

The head nurse grumbled as Palin hurried away. Then she turned her attention to Patsasika. Seeing the troubled expression of her junior made Chorlada’s heart sink as well.

"Don’t overthink it, Sor. Ms. Mongkutmook has gone back to be with her family. You did your best for her. I’ve worked with you long enough to know you’d never neglect a patient."

"I only just promised her the other day that I’d take her to sit for her exams."

"We’re outsiders here. We could never outmaneuver her brother. Just go home, rest up, and be ready to hit the ground running again tomorrow."

"Yes, P’Chor."

Ganthorn pressed a hand to his forehead as he stepped into the VIP patient room, where his boss sat reviewing and signing purchase and sale documents he’d brought with him, his expression tense and focused. Mongkutmook sat cross-legged on the bed, her face set in a dark scowl.

"Mr. Matt," the young man called softly.

"What is it?"

"Talking here won’t be ideal." Ganthorn cast a glance at Mongkutmook. "Better if we discuss this outside."

"Hmm, alright then." Boramat rose, adjusting his suit jacket, then instructed his sister, "I’ll be just outside talking to Gun about work. Stay put here, and don’t cause any trouble."

"As if I’m some kind of terrorist."

"You’re worse than that. Just stay out of trouble. Do you understand?"

The younger sister gave a half-hearted nod, and the young man strode out with his assistant, heading toward the hallway that led to the emergency exit. Immediately, he guessed that whatever Ganthorn needed to discuss would be a pressing matter.

"Out with it, what’s going on?"

"I noticed that the hospital helicopter we’d arranged for Young Miss hasn’t arrived, so I called them back. Turns out someone called around noon and canceled it, saying there was no need to pick her up."

"Could this be some kind of misunderstanding?"

"I don’t think so. They were pretty firm about it."

It had to be someone deliberately interfering. This hospital was one of the country’s top facilities, renowned for its exceptional service and high standards, so there was no way they’d risk their reputation by making careless errors.

"Do we know who called in the cancellation?"

"I tried to push for details, but they would only say that we’d know who was responsible soon enough."

"No helicopter? Fine, then. Book the soonest possible flight. One way or another, I’m getting her back to Bangkok today," He’d see just how long the person trying to thwart his efforts could keep it up.

While they spoke, neither man noticed a shadow moving stealthily behind them. Mongkutmook, using the stealth of a cat burglar, quietly opened the door with the utmost care. Her bare feet touched down softly on the polished stone floor, each step deliberate to avoid making even the slightest noise that might alert the people she was trying to escape from.

The young woman glanced left and right; luck was on her side—the coast was clear. Just a few more steps, and she’d reach the elevator. By the time anyone realized she was missing, she’d be long gone. Boramat had carelessly left his wallet behind. Her mischievous eyes locked onto the wallet in her hand.

…I’ll use up every cent in here, max out all the debit and credit cards too. Just let me get away today, and I’ll make it count. If I don’t pull this off, don’t even bother calling me Mongkutmook!

“Go back to Bangkok by yourself, P’Matt. Bye.”

If given the chance, she’d reward Ganthorn generously for distracting her brother—at least ten times over. She owed him for creating the opportunity for her to escape.

The would-be escapee grinned widely as she spotted Ganthorn heading off in the opposite direction and the tyrant still focused on his phone, swiping and making calls, leaving her a clear shot at the elevator. The large ceramic pot housing a trailing pothos plant served as her perfect cover. Her slender finger pressed the elevator button without hesitation, summoning her escape route. The digital display showed the elevator making its way up... steadily... steadily... until it finally reached her floor.

Mongkutmook stepped inside the elevator, pressing G and standing still, waiting for each floor to pass as it descended. Meanwhile, she mentally ran through her escape plan, outlining the next steps. Her decision to run had come on the fly the moment her brother had left with Ganthorn, so there hadn’t been time to prepare. She didn’t even have shoes, but a golden opportunity like this couldn’t be missed.

…For Mongkutmook, (who had P’Matt’s wallet in hand), everything ahead would be a piece of cake.

"Once I’m far enough from this hospital, I’ll buy shoes somewhere—there are stores everywhere. Escaping comes first, shopping later." The escaped convict glanced down at her bare feet and thought about her next move.

They say the safest place is often the most dangerous. Her brother was probably convinced that she'd be escaping far away this time, but he couldn’t be more wrong. She’d hide out here in this very town. First, she’d withdraw all the money from Boramat’s cards—she could forge his signature without a hitch. And the ATM code?

…It was her own birthdate.

Once that was done, she’d find a cozy beachfront homestay to lay low, maybe for a week, a month, or even a year. Then, once everything was in order, she’d buy a second-hand motorbike and enjoy some freedom. As for the end-of-term exams, she’d ask her professors to let her sit them in private. And the remaining term? Well...

Ding!!

The elevator chimed as it reached her floor, momentarily halting her runaway train of thought. She quickly brushed her hair down over her face and stepped briskly out as the doors slid open.

Though she’d managed to slip past her brother, her luck was about to run out…

“Mook.”

“P’Mee…”

Boramat’s expensive wallet fell from her hand, landing open on the floor. The woman standing before her was the last person she expected to see here. She’d protested so loudly about not wanting her sister to visit that Mee had refrained from coming, afraid it would lead to a blow-up on campus.

“Why are you down here by yourself? Are you feeling better?”

Mee approached her sister quickly, brushing her shoulders and looking her over carefully. There were scrapes all over, her pinky finger was in a splint, and she had a temporary cast on her knee.

Only now did Mongkutmook begin to feel the pain in her leg. She’d been so focused on escaping that she’d forgotten about her injury. Adrenaline had numbed her, allowing her to dart around as if she were unhurt. She was lucky she hadn’t collapsed halfway.

“Can you stand?”

“Y…yes, I’m fine,” tears welling up in Mongkutmook’s eyes. If her elder sister had reprimanded her, she wouldn’t have felt half as guilty as she did now.

“Why are you crying?”

Paramee gently wiped her tears away. To her, Mook was still a little girl—one she was meant to protect, no matter the years that had passed.

“Oh, come now, don’t cry. It makes me feel bad. Are you in pain? Tell me, Mook.”

“Mook / Mook,”

Mongkutmook forced a tearful smile when she heard two voices from behind—voices she could recognize anywhere. Quickly wiping her tears away, she turned, supported by her sister. But the momentary smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a surge of sorrow. The two people she loved most—and the one person she despised the most in the world—were all standing before her.

Her father, her mother...and that woman, her father’s new wife.

Mongkutmook pulled herself out of her sister’s embrace, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to see that woman. She didn’t even want to breathe the same air. Leaning back against the wall, she sensed the tension in the room growing as everything fell silent.

“Mook, come here to Mom and Dad.”

Mrs. Puangyok called her daughter with difficulty, voice thick with emotion as a lump formed in her throat. Her heart ached seeing her daughter step back, shunning her as she moved forward.

“Why…why did Dad bring his new wife here? I hate her.”

“Mook, don’t, sweetheart,” her mother quickly stopped her.

“I hate her. She stole you away from us. How can you stand it, Mom?”

“You’re getting out of line with your disrespect toward Mrs. Chat, Mook.”

It was the first time Mr. Putch ever raised his voice at his precious daughter. To Mongkutmook, his words were like a dagger, piercing her heart. Dad scolded her to protect that woman...

“It’s alright, Mr. Putch.”

Chatlada rested a hand on her husband’s arm. She was well aware of how much her stepdaughter loathed her, a bitterness that only deepened with time. She could only hope that one day her sincerity would bridge the chasm between them.

“Dad is just like P’Matt. You’re both so self-centered. You never care how I feel.”

The young miss of the Visarnsakul family stifled her sobs, the pain in her body and heart overwhelming her. She couldn’t stand any longer and sank slowly to the floor.

“You brought her here, do you want me to die faster?”

Mongkutmook’s words stunned everyone into silence. But only a moment passed before a deep voice disrupted the stillness, bringing reality crashing back.

“Get up, Mook!”

Boramat had arrived, stepping out of a second elevator with Ganthorn, and his voice was all authority and frustration.

“Let’s take this discussion upstairs. Stop acting like you’re all alone in the world.”

“Matt, talk to her kindly, please,” Paramee urged, even at this tense moment standing up for her little sister.

“Stop encouraging her, Mee. Please, I’m begging you.”

The young man grabbed the small figure and hoisted her over his shoulder as if she were a mere featherweight. Ganthorn, anticipating his boss’s actions, pressed the elevator button without a word. Mongkutmook kicked and hit her brother furiously with all her might, though it was as feeble like an ant’s strength.

“P’Matt, put me down! Let me go. Let me go, P’Matt, you crazy brother!”

“If anyone here is crazy, it’s you. Trying to escape even while you’re injured. I won’t let you run off to your death. With all your mischief, you still have a lot of karma to pay for.”