Kesha's TikTok thumped through the club, its beat buzzing with the crowd's electric energy.
Bunrong, Leakena, Dara, and a few other friends mingled in the crowd, their laughter and conversation lost in the thumping rhythm of the music. Drinks were passed around, clinking with the rhythm of the night as they enjoyed the energy around them, lost in the carefree chaos of the party.
Dara sipped his drink, his gaze never leaving Leakena. He kept a careful watch, making sure she stayed within his sight. As the music roared around him, he noticed her slip out of the room, her phone pressed to her ear, speaking in hushed tones, as if in secret.
Without hesitation, Dara set his drink down and followed, his curiosity piqued. The dimly lit hallway offered little cover, but he stayed just far enough behind to avoid being noticed, his focus fixed on her every move.
Leakena' spoke in hushed tones, her words laced with frustration
"I don't know, I can't... Why didn't you reach out to him yourself?" she asked, her voice tinged with urgency. After listening from other side, she responded
"You coward! If you can't say sorry, don't give anyone false hope! Don't love anyone!"
Dara's grip on the edge of the wall tightened as he overheard the rest of Leakena's conversation.
"No way, no way, jerk! Let's meet soon... haha, next time... oh, Bunrong just got a new job, and we're celebrating with him."
The sudden mention of Bunrong hit Dara hard, his mind racing. It means she was talking with Sethya for sure.
He felt a growing sense of unease, unsure of where this conversation was leading.
Bunrong suddenly appeared behind Dara, holding a glass of wine.
"Hey!" he said, startling Dara.
Dara turned, visibly shocked. "Oh my!"
"No need to eavesdrop on her, man," Bunrong teased. "She's talking to Seth, for sure!"
Dara exhaled deeply, trying to regain his composure. Bunrong leaned in closer. "Seth wants to get back with you," he said casually.
Dara smirked bitterly. "And you think I care?"
"You mean no?" Bunrong asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you his spokesman now?" Dara shot back.
"No, no—she is!" Bunrong gestured toward Leakena.
Dara sighed, rubbing his temples. "What a headache. I'm not in the mood for any relationships right now."
"That's okay!" Bunrong replied cheerfully.
Dara changed the subject. "And congratulations to you again, man. A new job? I'm still fooling around."
"You deserve a break," Bunrong said, giving Dara a friendly pat on the chest.
"And where's your new workplace now?" Dara asked curiously.
"Construction site," Bunrong answered with a grin.
"Architect? A real pro now?" Dara teased.
Bunrong smiled confidently. "Come on, man! Nice job, right? I'm no longer a broke freelance designer."
Dara laughed. "Hey, you!" he said, shaking his head, amused by Bunrong's enthusiasm.
Dara pressed on, his curiosity piqued. "And what company, if I can know?"
Bunrong's face fell slightly as he looked down, hesitant. "Your dad's firm," he muttered.
Dara froze, stunned. "Are you... f**k off! Are you kidding me?"
"HBH Construction," Bunrong confirmed with a faint grin. "I'll be meeting your sister next month, little brother."
Without a word, Dara grabbed the wine glass from Bunrong's hand and downed it in one shot, his mind spinning.
***
Across the room, Sethya stood in the dim glow of the club, his expression shadowed by sadness and a quiet desperation. His gaze clung to Dara, who laughed and smiled with Bunrong, each moment of joy carving a deeper ache in Sethya's chest.
Leakena approached, catching the longing etched in his eyes. She chuckled softly, her amusement laced with knowing.
"Did you miss him that much?" Leakena teased, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Why don't you just go over and talk to him already?"
"I'm gathering every ounce of courage just to face him again," Sethya admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But I'm terrified of his rejection."
"Hmm, if you haven't tried yet, how would you know the outcome?" Leakena said, her tone soft yet probing. Sethya's gaze dropped, his words heavy with regret.
"I ended things over the phone... didn't even show up for his mom's funeral," he confessed, the weight of his actions sinking in. "I was a terrible person to him."
Fear tightens in his chest at the thought of Dara's rejection. "I don't believe I deserve his forgiveness, yet my mind cannot escape him."
Leakena offered her understanding to Sethya, but a shadow of suspicion lingered in his gaze. It reminded him of Bunrong's words—how Leakena seemed to know something about the leaked video footage.
That night, after everyone had left the club, Dara drove home, his car gliding through the quiet streets. Sethya followed behind, his mind spinning with thoughts, a desperate urge to speak with Dara building inside him.
—
As Sethya drove, he muttered to himself, trying to find the right words.
"Dara, my love... Can I have a word?" He shook his head, the words feeling weak. "No, no… That's not it." He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
"Dara, my bad. My apologies… but can we talk?" He repeated the sentence, his voice growing more uncertain with each try.
Every attempt sounded wrong, and yet, he couldn't stop. The words were stuck, just out of reach, as if his own guilt kept them from coming out right.
Sethya parked his car beside the curb, stepping out as Dara approached his front door, keys in hand.
But as Sethya stood there, the weight of past mistakes held him back, leaving him frozen in place. The cowardice gnawed at him, leaving a bitter ache in his chest.
Dara, unaware, entered his house and shut the door with a soft click, leaving Seth standing in the darkness, his heart heavy with regret.
—
Late that night, Dara sat in his room, the dim glow of his phone lighting his face as he chatted in the Telegram group named Lotus Farm with Visal and Nida.
He had just uploaded a series of screenshots—conversations between Saroath and Monica, Rith, Heng, Dalin, and his parents—for them to analyze.
Nida was the first to respond: "Sokhom's words are still on my mind: 'Let the debtor pay his own debt.' She seemed quite nervous when we asked about that day too."
Visal chimed in shortly after: "I'll take a closer look at this. Tomorrow, I'll head to Rith's construction site and dig into it further."
Dara typed his thanks quickly. "Thanks, everyone. Tomorrow, I'll also visit my dad's house."
The three exchanged a few more thoughts before the chat went quiet, each preparing for the steps ahead.
—
Dara sat in his car, parked in front of a neoclassical villa standing alone on the quiet edge of the suburbs. The soft morning light reflecting off its elegant columns and intricate facade.
Dara glanced at his phone, scrolling through his chat with Marina, still no response. With a sigh, he checked the time on the dashboard.
"It's almost 8 a.m. She hasn't woken up yet?" he muttered, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited.
As Dara waited, he spotted a sleek black luxury car pulling out of the driveway. Through the tinted windows, he caught a glimpse of Monica and Dalin seated in the back, their expressions unreadable as the car glided past him and onto the street.
Once the vehicle disappeared from sight, Dara took a deep breath, stepping out of his car. With cautious determination, he approached the grand neo as its imposing presence both inviting and intimidating under the morning sun.
Dara pressed the doorbell, the chime echoing faintly through the quiet villa. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman, likely the housemaid, appeared.
"Young boy!" she exclaimed with a warm smile, recognizing him immediately.
"Hello!" Dara greeted politely. "Is Dad home?"
"Yes, he's here. Come in," she said, stepping aside to let him enter the grand villa.