Monica placed that book aside, took a sip of wine, placing the glass on the table as she straightens her back. Then, her breath catches. A figure looms by the bathroom door.
"Oh my…"
"Oh my? You're drinking wine even just after surgery?"
"Marina! When did you get here?"
"I'm telling Dad."
Marina turns to leave, but Monica calls out, "Wait! Don't go!"
Monica grabs a towel, quickly wrapping it around herself as she steps out of the tub.
"Don't you dare leave!"
"You're sick and still drinking? I was right to hate you."
The older sister raised a hand, silencing her younger sibling mid-sentence. With a calm but firm gesture, she motioned for them to sit. After a brief hesitation, Mari complied, and two walked over to the sofa by Monica's bed, where she searched for a nightdress to wear.
"So, what brings you here?"
"You're sick! Mom told me you may have another surgery" Marina urged, concern laced her voice.
Monica waved it off, unbothered. "It doesn't matter."
"So, you won't get treatment?"
"I'll think about it."
"Well, I'll ask Dad to make me CEO, and you're out."
Monica chuckled, finishing up getting dressed. "Sounds great."
"You're too much!" Marina hissed, grabbing her sister and plopping her onto the sofa.
"You didn't even see me in the hospital. What are you doing here at this hour? Miss me?"
"For God's sake, you idiot! Mom hired me to come watch over you."
"Hired?" Monica raised an eyebrow. "How much is she paying you?"
"You can't afford it, Monica."
Big sister looked a little lost in her thoughts, her gaze distant.
"I know why you're treating me like this. You suspect me of Saroath's death, and now, I can't help Marina," Monica's voice trembled, the weight of her words hanging in the air.
"Can't you prove your innocence?" Marina asked softly.
Monica's eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and pain. "And if you were in my place, how would you prove it?"
Marina fell silent, stunned. Monica's voice broke through again, more desperate now.
"Now that Dara's spreading news, everything's falling apart. Dalin's taking over my duties. She's handling the construction opening, too. And when I was in the hospital, facing surgery, there was only you I could trust. But now, with you acting this way, what hope is left for me?"
Marina swallowed hard, her throat tight.
"I would've been glad if you could've taken my place," Monica added quietly, her words laced with a deep sadness.
"Monic..."
"If I die soon, or end up in prison... will you take care of it?"
Marina couldn't respond at first, her voice lost.
"…No, don't say that..." Tears welled up, spilling over.
Monica rose from the sofa and walked over to the desk, her hand reaching for the bottle of pills resting there. She held it for a moment, staring at it, her mind racing.
"I need to sleep now. What more is there to say?" she muttered, frustration edging her voice.
Marina followed her, concern softened her expression. "I'm sorry, I came because I'm worried about you. And…" She hesitated, pulling out her phone.
"Dara sent me something."
She showed the message to Monica, her tone serious. "Dara says a man named Khun— and the man behind him known as Banana—was following you. He's been doing so for two months. Any idea who he is?"
Monica's hand instinctively reached for her phone, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "No… I had no idea."
Something seemed to click in the older sister's mind, and her expression shifted.
"Wait," Monica said, her voice thoughtful. "Several days ago, I got a text from an unknown number. It said they saw me meeting Aunt Saroath the day she died."
"Really?" Mari leaned in, her brows knitting together. "Did you show it to the police?"
Monica shook her head. "No. The message vanished not long after I read it."
Mari frowned. "What name was on the sender?"
"It... it was just a capital letter. I barely had time to see it before it disappeared."
The two sisters exchanged a silent, questioning glance.
***
The two sisters lay side by side on the bed, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. Marina, her thoughts heavy,
"Should I call him now?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence as her sister lay deep in thought beside her. Monica nodded, and with that, Mari picked up the phone, dialing Dara's number.
A minute passed before Dara answered, his voice calm. "Yes, Marina?"
"Sister wants to talk to you," Mari said softly.
"Alright."
The line clicked, and soon the conversation between Monica and Dara began.
"Banana, what the hell?" Monica snapped, frustration seeping into her voice.
"Maybe you should reflect on what the hell you did recently," Dara shot back, his tone sharp. "Think about it."
"Watch your mouth!" Monica snapped, her irritation mounting. Marina, feeling the familiar headache of her siblings' constant bickering, rubbed her temples. It was always the same, even over the phone.
"I don't have a mirror!" Dara replied with a chuckle, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Dara! Talk to me properly!" elder sister demanded, her patience wearing thin.
"Alright, Lady!" Dara snapped, his tone sharp.
"Did you get him?" Monica asked, a hint of urgency in her voice.
"Yes, but Banana's got nothing. His telegram is private."
"I see. I wanted to meet that Khun, if possible."
"I'll send his contact to Marina."
"Send it to me directly!"
"I won't talk to you directly anymore, Miss CEO!"
Monica bit back a curse, barely stopping herself from shouting, "The f*ck!"
Marina murmured, "Are these two the same personality?" Her voice barely whispered, but the question lingered in the air, thick with curiosity.
"Watch your mouth, Monica! It could ruin you later. I'm warning you," Dara's voice was icy, cutting through the tension.
With that, both sides hung up, the silence afterward heavy with unspoken threats.
***
Night was never meant for Dara's rest. After his conversation with his half-sibling came to an abrupt end, receive message from Visal:
"Police have reopened your mom's case after Monica's interrogation. I'll update you both later."
Nida repiled "Ok. Good night,"
Dara stepped out of his home, the cool air pressing against his skin.
***
The next morning, Dara woke to the sharp buzz of his alarm clock at 6 a.m. He had spent the night slumped in his car, parked beside a garage in the city.
Groggy, he rubbed his eyes and gazed through the car's window at the building across the street—a worn facade of rented rooms, its walls holding untold stories.
A few moments later, Khun rode his motorbike out of the rented room and headed toward the east side of the city.
Dara saw him and immediately jumped into his car to follow, after stepping outside, washed his face with water from a bottle. As he sped off, he shouted,
"You f*cking liar! You're dead, man!"
"After about 40 minutes of Dara following Khun's motorbike, they arrived in an urban area. Khun stopped under a bridge and made a phone call."
Khun spoke into his phone, "Yes. I'm on my way to see you! If you're coming, send me the location!"
However, Dara couldn't hear the conversation due to the distance.
Khun resumed his ride, steering his motorbike northwest. Dara trailed closely, his heart heavy with suspicion as the destination came into focus—the Kandal II district, his mother's hometown. He must be looking for something there.
Khun slowed to a stop near an old wooden bridge stretched across a narrow canal winding through the rice fields, shadowed by swaying palm trees and draped in clusters of brown flowers. Dara parked his car discreetly along a dirt road obscured by overgrown bushes.
The air buzzed with the hum of passing motorbikes and cars, a constant, unbroken rhythm. Khun glanced around nervously, his eyes darting like a hunted animal. After a brief pause, he pulled out his phone and dialed again, his voice low and tense.
"I've arrived. Where are you?" Khun's voice was sharp, almost impatient, as he spoke into the phone. He listened intently, his brow furrowed. After a moment, he gave a curt nod.
"Alright, I'll head to the rest hall and wait." His tone was calm, but the unease in his movements betrayed him.