Chapter 7

A Gift to Savor and Squirm Over

The wooden-winged home of Boramat was far from silent during the day, even when its owner was out. The small library, its walls made of clear glass showing off clusters of multicolored bougainvillea cascading down trellises, saw the most use when Boramat was at work.

Mongkutmook closed the thick textbook filled with stressful material, placing it down on the soft cushion beside her. She reached for her favorite superhero comic book, one she’d read no fewer than twenty times. But as she turned a page, she paused as a photo she used as a bookmark slipped out of the book.

Every time she picked up her favorite comic, she saw the picture, but this time it stirred something in her heart more intensely than usual. And no matter how much she’d thought of tearing it into tiny pieces, she’d never managed to go through with it.

The picture was taken on the day her oldest sister graduated. Everyone in the photo was smiling, a clear testament to their happiness. Paramee, dressed in her graduation gown and holding a teddy bear, stood in the middle with her father’s arm around her shoulder and her mother kissing her cheek. Boramat sat cross-legged in front, his little sister perched on his back, reaching out in vain for the teddy bear her sister was holding but failing to reach.

The young girl smiled unconsciously. How long had it been since they’d taken a family photo? Her smile faded after a moment. They had many family photos, but she realized that since she was born, other than their wedding picture, she’d never seen a single photo of her father and mother alone together. They’d never shown any affection, like hugging or kissing each other's cheeks, in front of her.

“A married couple with three kids, they must have loved each other, right? Maybe they were just shy.”

Mongkutmook comforted herself, reminding herself that Chatlada was the interloper, the third wheel. Her parents had told her so many times how much they loved her, her brother, and her sister more than anything else in the world.

Letting out a long sigh, she tucked the photo back into the comic book. She no longer had the heart to enter the heroic world of superheroes that usually cheered her up.

Knock, knock, knock!!

The thick wooden door was knocked three times before the owner of the house opened it and stepped in. Mongkutmook looked at her brother with doubt. Usually, he left the house in the morning and returned only around sunset, so why was he back at noon?

“Aunt Puang mentioned you barely touched your lunch today,” came the inquiry from the burly man leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

The person who ate little let out her second sigh of the day. Could he think of a more creative question? Everything with him was so tedious. If it weren’t for this charming library room in his winged wooden house, she’d have already withered away in this pretty prison since the day she’d been forced to move here after her hospital discharge.

“Was the food bad?”

“It was fine.”

“Not to your taste?”

“Oh, come on, P’Matt. I’ve been here for years; southern food doesn’t bother me in the least.”

“Then why didn’t you eat a decent portion? You ate like a bird. Do you even care if you hurt the cook’s feelings?”

“I just wasn’t hungry. How is anyone supposed to have an appetite when they’re being confined here?”

With that, the small figure turned her head, pressing her cheek against the glass. She’d have to remain under her brother’s supervision until graduation. She’d lost her right to return to her university dormitory, a trade-off for not being sent back to Bangkok.

“Get ready. You’re going out with me this evening.”

“Where are we going, P’Matt?”

Mongkutmook’s eyes widened when she heard the word ‘go out’.

“To the beach.”

“The beach? Yes, let’s go. Are we having dinner by the sea?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Boramat would have preferred to skip the opening of his company engineer's seaside resort—especially after discovering that a certain woman, whose name lingered in his mind, whose face haunted his thoughts, and whose citrusy taste still seemed to linger on his lips, would also be attending. Was it just coincidence that this woman was the younger sister code of the engineer's wife from their high school years? The world felt smaller than ever.

“What kind of place is it? And what should I wear?”

“I had Gan hang an outfit in your room already.”

“I’m going to check it out.” Mongkutmook bolted out of the room before he’d even finished his sentence.

Boramat smiled at her retreating figure, throwing himself onto the sofa that she had more or less taken ownership of since moving into the wooden winged house. Mongkutmook had been surprised to find he’d built a second house; since she’d refused to stay in the condo he bought her, he brought her here against her will. He mused that if she refused to return home to their mother after graduation, maybe he’d keep her here indefinitely.

As the young businessman’s gaze drifted across the bookshelf, his eyes caught on the last book, its spine adorned with an image of a traditional Thai fiddle. How did a book on Thai music find its way into his library?...

He closed his eyes and opened them again, only to find that it was actually a thick book on renewable energy—no fiddle to be seen.

“Must be seeing things. What’s going on with you, Matt?”

He muttered to himself. For a moment, he pictured the sweetly elegant face of a certain southern woman. Since their tangy kiss that night, they’d exchanged few words, and whenever he visited Mongkutmook in the hospital, Patsasika’s demeanor was icy, her emotional walls built up within just a single night—unseen barriers that shielded her remarkably well.

“Wonder if you’ll bring that heavy wall of yours to the resort opening tonight… Nurse Sor.”

The sound of waves softly lapping at the shore harmonized perfectly with the evening’s bossa nova music, while warm, yellowish fairy lights strung up on trees brightened as the sun dipped below the horizon. The young woman, in a flowing bohemian-style blue dress, felt the fresh sea breeze refresh her after a long day’s work.

“I was worried you wouldn’t make it, Sor.”

“Of course, I had to be here—it’s my senior’s big night, after all. I’m sorry I’m late; I just got off my shift.” Patsasika smiled sweetly, handing over a small gift box. “Congratulations, P’Si.”

“Better late than never. Thanks, my dear. Wondering what the outstanding nurse would give me.” Patsorn gently shook the small box next to her ear. “Bet it’s a gold bar.”

“Why don’t you open it later to find out if it’s gold bars or golden drop egg.”

The resort owner’s excitement faded instantly. No matter how many years had passed, Patsasika always managed to catch her jokes effortlessly.

“Where’s P’Nueng?”

“Oh, he’s over there, greeting guests. Or sneaking off to chat up the ladies, who knows?” Patsorn playfully pretended to be jealous. “Come on, let’s find you a seat.”

She guided Patsasika to a table positioned closest to the stage, where there was just one empty chair left.

“Excuse me, Mr. Matt, Mr. Gan, Mook—do you mind if I seat my junior with you?” The young woman pulled out the chair as she pressed Patsasika to make her sit before anyone could protest.

Patsasika wanted to stand and walk away, but reality didn’t align with her desires. She quickly looked away after meeting the black eyes of the young man, who sat directly across from her. His expression was just as unreadable

…as it had been since that night.

“Oh, Nurse Sor.” Mongkutmook greeted her excitedly.

“You know each other?”

“Yes, Nurse Sor was Mook’s private nurse,” Boramat answered before anyone else could. Seeing this, it was no wonder why Patsasika was late—she must’ve had trouble lugging all that emotional baggage along with her.

“Great! Then I’ll leave Sor in your care. I need to prepare to go on stage. Sor, we’ll catch up later.”

Patsorn said before walking off immediately. The resort owner had no idea just how much discomfort and unease she had unintentionally caused for the woman she left behind.

“Come on, Nurse Sor. Have a drink; the cocktails here are amazing. I think I’ll have to sneak away to this resort more often,” Mongkutmook finished her third drink and popping an olive into her mouth before urging her seatmate to try the vibrantly colored drinks as well.

“I don’t drink alcohol, Ms. Mook. And I think you should slow down too; you’ll get drunk.”

“Oh, come on. These cocktails barely have any alcohol. You can barely smell it.”

Patsasika watched as Mongkutmook wiggled her small fingers to signal a server, who promptly brought another drink to the table. Initially, her former patient had sipped on nothing but fragrant lemongrass tea, sampling only the elegantly presented dishes. But as soon as Boramat and Ganthorn had excused themselves to discuss business at another table with Puthorn, Patsorn’s husband, the rebellious sister had started indulging.

“You know, Ms. Mook, you’re still recovering. You still have a cast on your pinky finger—drinking like this will only slow your healing.”

“Stop nagging. One P’Matt in this world is enough. You should relax, Nurse Sor.”

The mention of a third party’s nickname momentarily stunned Patsasika, right as Mongkutmook grabbed a cocktail glass containing an orange drink.

"That's enough." The young woman gently caught Mongkutmook's hand just as the rim of the glass was about to touch her lips.

“I only drink on rare occasions, and you’re still trying to stop me?”

“You’re already drunk, Ms. Mook,” Her dazed eyes and nonsensical speech clearly indicated as much. If this wasn’t drunk, she didn’t know what was. If Boramat found her in this state, he’d definitely blame her for letting his sister get intoxicated.

“Well, if I can’t make it home, I’ll just sleep here. Why not? I heard from P’Si onstage that all guests tonight get a free stay for any day they want, so why not make it tonight and sleep till noon tomorrow? It sounds perfect.”

“Why not just sleep at home? You could sleep till the evening if you wanted. Let me call Mr. Gan to take us back.”

“If you want me to stop, Nurse Sor, then you finish this orange drink. It’d be a waste not to,” Mongkutmook offered the glass to her.

The sharp-feature woman took the drink, examining it cautiously. After a sniff revealed no hint of alcohol, she relaxed a bit.

“Alright, if I drink this, then you’ll come home, okay?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go.”

Patsasika slowly drank the cold, citrusy drink until the glass was empty, savoring the sweet and tangy flavor that was surprisingly refreshing.

“All done. I’ll go get Mr. Gan now,” the young woman offered, even though calling Ganthorn meant she’d likely run into Boramat again.

“Just a little while longer, urg!” Mongkutmook was fully tipsy now. “There’s still so much food left, and P’Matt’s not done talking business yet.”

“Sigh…Alright then.” The stubborn child keeps negotiating persistently, and she also keeps softening her heart just as easily.

The food quickly disappeared from the plate, thanks to Mongkutmook, who had grown hungry after consuming nothing but alcoholic drinks, while Patsasika mostly watched her. She had no appetite herself, partly because of Boramat’s presence in the room. Somehow, he had turned out to be Puthorn's boss. It seemed like she and he were connected in more ways than she could handle. How could she possibly escape this entanglement?...

The more she thought about it, the more stressed she became. Patsasika raised her hand to her throbbing temples, only to notice Mongkutmook had fallen asleep at some point. The nurse decided she should get up and head to the restroom to splash some water on her face to refresh herself, but the headache was too intense to stand up. Eventually, she surrendered, resting her head on the table, and soon drifted off beside Mongkutmook.

“Huh? My resort is so cozy, everyone’s falling asleep.”

Patsorn, who had just finished seeing off other guests, returned to find the women both dozing at the table. She wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or exasperated—it wasn’t even ten yet. If they stayed out here much longer, the mosquitoes might as well carry them off to the sea for the sharks to feast on.

“Sor, wake up, dear.”

After a few gentle shakes, Patsasika began to stir, blinking blearily, her headache still present.

“P’Si, my head hurts so much.”

“Have you been overworking yourself again? You really need to rest more. Let’s get you to bed. I’m not letting you go home alone in this state—I’ll take you back myself in the morning.”

“Okay.” The young nurse replied softly, too weary to argue. Perhaps Patsorn was right—she had been pushing herself too hard.

“Hey, one moment.” The delicate hand waved over an attendant. “Please tell Mr. Matt that Ms. Mook fell asleep here. I’ll take Ms. Sor to a room first, and let Mr. Nueng know I’m leaving early.”

“Certainly, Mrs. Si.”

After giving her instructions, Patsorn half-guided, half-carried her sleepy junior to the most scenic suite in the resort. Once she had tucked Patsasika into bed, she had already fallen fast asleep before she could even fetch her some painkillers. Patsorn opened the balcony curtains, revealing the starry night and the dark waves of the sea below. Turning off the lights, Patsorn softly said to the small figure on the bed as she left the room…

“Sor, you’re christening this room for me. Sweet dreams.”

“Wake up, you troublemaker. Come on! Time to head home.” This little sister, as mischievous as ever, couldn’t be left alone for long. Patsasika had likely already gone, leaving Mongkutmook without someone to stop her from getting drunk out of her mind.

“Go away, P’Matt…”

Mongkutmook swatted him away as she woke to find her brother shaking her without mercy. The alcohol haze was gone, replaced by a headache courtesy of her bossy older brother.

Boramat shook his head in exasperation. At least this time she was a calm drunk. He vividly remembered the time she’d gotten drunk and caused a ruckus right outside a department store; he’d had to catch the next flight just to go manage the situation in person.

"Ugh... I’m gonna...blehhhhh."

“Whoa!”

Mongkutmook finally felt relief, taking a seat with a deep breath as though she’d survived an ordeal.

“What on earth was that?!”

“I kept telling you to let me go, didn’t I? But no, you just wouldn’t listen. So, there you go—my puke all over you.”

Ganthorn and Puthorn grimaced, looking as if they’d just swallowed bitter medicine. Boramat, on the other hand, was less fortunate—he was now an unfortunate moving receptacle for Mongkutmook’s vomit. His expensive black suit was stained with streaks of off-white and yellow, carrying a distinct odor. The liquid trailed down with gravity, soaking his trousers, light blue shirt, and tie.

Frustrated, the unfortunate man spread his arms and closed his eyes, resigned. When he opened them again, he found the owner of the smelly stain on his body laughing uncontrollably as if she found the entire incident hilarious.

Oh, she was just asking for it!

“Perhaps you should head home and freshen up, sir. But maybe take the suit off first, Mr. Matt.”

Ganthorn suggested, reluctantly extending his hand to receive it. The stench emanating from the mess nearly made him vomit alongside the young miss.

“By the time we get home, you’ll have to put up with Mook’s vomit all over the car. Unbelievable.” The portable chamber pot glanced at her with clear displeasure.

“Well, serves you right, P’Matt. You just wouldn’t stop shaking me,” the young woman got up and made her way over to Ganthorn.

“I think I should go back to my ‘prison’ now. Even if I don’t want to, it’s better than sticking around here. Just leave P’Matt here. Can you take me home, Mr. Gan?”

“Uh...”

The assistant looked between his boss and his boss’s sister, clearly conflicted, but Mongkutmook’s sharp gaze was by far the more intimidating.

“Yes, young miss.”

“Would you like to clean up first, sir? Or, if you don’t want to drive home tonight, you’re welcome to stay here at the resort. It’s quite late already.”

The young businessman thought it over and saw little reason to go home in his current state—especially when he’d be subjected to the car’s reeking interior all the way across town. Spending the night at the resort didn’t seem like a bad idea; he might even enjoy the ocean views in the morning, and maybe—just maybe—that would put his troublesome sister in a better mood.

The suite door opened after the user keyed in the four-digit code. The tall figure walked into the room that was cool and dim, thanks to the air conditioning. Boramat didn’t pay much attention to his surroundings, assuming Puthorn had simply arranged for one of the resort staff to prepare the room after he had escorted Mongkutmook to another suite. At the moment, his only focus was on getting cleaned up and changing out of his soiled clothes.

Just as his thick hand was about to reach for the light switch, Puthorn’s words from earlier replayed in his mind, making him hesitate and slowly lower his hand from the switch.

"The staff must have prepared everything just as planned. This suite is one of the best, offering the finest ambiance day or night. Please make yourself at home, Mr. Matt. Consider it a gift for giving me the chance to work with VIS Solar. And as for the special gift..."

Puthorn paused for a moment before continuing with a note of excitement.

"Why not find out for yourself in the room? Something I think you’ll like—a natural gift that you’ll really enjoy. To make the experience even better... try keeping the main lights off in the room."

Boramat chuckled to himself, following Puthorn’s instructions without deviation to the letter like a schoolboy diligently obeying his teacher’s orders for fear of punishment—perhaps being made to stand on one leg while holding a ruler in his mouth at the front of the classroom.

Stepping into the bathroom, the young man switched on a warm orange sconce light, which provided just enough glow to rinse off the stains his sister had left. He placed the soiled clothes in a basket by the door, where Puthorn had said someone would retrieve them for cleaning. Wrapped only in a towel around his waist, Boramat crossed to the four-poster bed in the middle of the room, reaching to pull back the blanket. Yet he froze mid-motion as he realized that this bed was already occupied.

"A woman…?"

The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow across the curves of the figure resting on the bed. Boramat lowered the blanket carefully and turned, ready to leave the room.

Something had to be wrong here!

"Mm..."

A soft murmur broke the tranquility of her slumber, bringing the other person to stop everything he was doing. It made him wonder, maybe this sound wasn’t of someone being disturbed, but an invitation for him to continue his mission.

The staff had prepared everything in advance.

The atmosphere would be perfect, day or night.

A natural gift, just for him.

For the best experience… the room should remain dim.

"So they set this up for me, but didn’t tell me directly. You’re a sly one, Mr. Nueng. This gift... even moves."

It all made sense now—why Puthorn had urged him so strongly to use his free stay tonight.

The young businessman was no stranger to situations like these. It wasn’t his first time that there was an unexpected company on the bed of his suite whenever he traveled for business; some clients considered it almost customary to offer him living pillows for the night.

…It seemed Puthorn thought along the same lines.

Returning to the bed, Boramat tried to make out the woman’s face in the low light but could see only faint outlines. Puthorn had insisted he keep the room dim, no doubt intending for him to enjoy the element of mystery. So, it seemed, did Puthorn’s ‘gift,’ who lay still as if pretending to be fast asleep.

…Well, let's see how long she can keep up the act.

The towel slipped from his waist, falling silently to the floor. His bare form sank onto the edge of the bed. Boramat moved his face closer and closer to the gift until the distance was less than an inch away. However, the face of another person flashed in his head. The faint scent of oranges swirled near the tip of his nose.

Was Patsasika a ghost, lingering to disrupt his every moment of release?

Boramat stayed still for a second, and then, he leaned in, letting his nose brush against the soft cheek of the woman on the bed. Was the orange scent real or simply a trick of his mind? Moving from his nose, his lips began to trace the contours of her face, down her slender neck, and finally to her mouth, whose scent was as familiar as her cheeks. The image of Patsasika’s face growing clearer in his mind only fueled his curiosity.

…Let’s see if this gift he was kissing can erase the memory of my sister’s nurse.

“Mm...”

The woman beneath him stirred, reacting to his kiss as her mouth parted slightly. Boramat took the opportunity to deepen it, sliding his tongue in to taste the lingering sweetness. He discovered the truth that…

Her lips, indeed, bore that faint orange scent, but they were nowhere near as tantalizing as the soft, delicate sweetness of the citrus flavor on her tender tongue.

Since this gift, both tantalizing to the taste and responsive to his touch, lay so close within reach, what harm would there be in unwrapping it to see if what lies within would truly please him…?