After the exhausting work finally came to an end, Monica trudged upstairs to her room and collapsed onto her bed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She reached for her phone and, with a weary hand, opened the AI chat.
"How many times should I undergo surgery to cure compartment syndrome?" she typed, hoping for some clarity.
The response came swiftly: The number of surgeries required depends on how an individual responds to treatment.
Monica stared at the screen, her mind racing with uncertainty.
She glanced at the brown cover of her diary, adorned with an image of an ancient building. Beneath its surface lay a small notebook, one that required a key to unlock its secrets.
***
As evening settled, a white car rolled up to the Han family house, pulling to a stop. Visak with his casual clothes, stepped out alone, a bundle of red roses clutched in his hand, his smile warm. Nuth, a housemate, greeted him at the door.
"Is Monica home?" Visak asked.
"Yes, but she's in her room," Nuth replied.
"Okay."
The two entered, the air tense with Nuth's unease, as Dalin and Heng had yet to return.
Monica lay in a peaceful slumber as Visak quietly knocked before entering. He moved softly, careful not to disturb her, his steps light as he approached her bedside.
Gently, he placed a bouquet of roses on the sofa, then sat beside her. His gaze lingered on her serene face before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, a tender smile curving his lips as he watched her sleep.
The phone suddenly rang, jolting Monica awake. She blinked in surprise, her eyes landing on Visak's presence beside her.
"My dear!" he whispered softly. She sat up, though still in the same spot, her mind slowly adjusting to reality.
"You're here... since when?" she asked, her voice still heavy with sleep.
"Just a moment ago," he replied, just as the phone's ringing abruptly ceased.
"Oh!" she murmured, still not fully awake. Without hesitation, Visak jumped into the bed, lying down next to her.
"Hey!" she protested, though her voice was faint.
"Keep quiet," he teased, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
"What?" she asked, confused. Visak didn't answer; instead, he placed his arm gently around her shoulder, using it as a pillow. "Sleep some more, in my arms," he murmured softly.
"No, don't do that!" she protested weakly, though her voice betrayed a hint of warmth.
"I miss you, baby," he sighed, his tone soft. "Stay quiet."
She winced, "My feet hurt."
He leaned closer. "Let me see."
She pulled the blanket aside, revealing her feet where the surgery had been. Gently, he took one foot in his hands, examining it carefully, before moving to the other. His touch was tender, as though afraid to cause her any more discomfort.
"When did the doctor say to check again?" he asked.
Monica hesitated, then replied, "Next day. But I..."
"You have to," he interrupted gently. "Get it checked properly and listen to the doctor,"
She nodded, and he cupped her cheek softly. "You need to heal, no matter what it takes."
"Yes, I know, and it's ok. Maybe I slept and touched the wound," she murmured.
"Okay, good then" he smiled. "Do you miss me, honey?"
"I do," she said quietly. "I miss you."
Their gazes met, a silent promise in the depth of their eyes. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers gently.
His hands followed, caressing her hair, tracing the curve of her shoulder, and slipping beneath her shirt to softly touch the warmth of her back.
A fleeting tenderness. She then laid her head on the pillow, her breath quickening, hesitating, wondering if this moment could become more than just a kiss.
As his kiss traveled from her lips to her neck and chest, his hands moved with purpose, seeking the moment to undress her. But before he could, she came to her senses, gently pushing against him.
"Don't," she whispered.
He stayed close, his body still resting on hers, his gaze searching hers. "I am sorry" he said, his voice soft but filled with longing.
She nodded, her eyes speaking what words couldn't.
He shifted aside and settled next to her, chuckling softly. She stirred awake once more, sitting up to lean against the headboard.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked. He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.
"Because you're so lovely." She was taken aback, her gaze drifting to the bouquet of roses resting on the sofa. "Oh... these... roses?"
A sudden realization struck him, and in a rush, he sprang from the bed to bring them to her.
Her face lit up with joy as she held the flowers, inhaling their sweet fragrance.
"Do you like it?" Visak asked, standing beside her.
"Yes! I do," she replied, her smile radiant.
He gently touched her hair, his own smile soft and content.
At the door, Heng stood frozen, watching them with a tense expression, his instincts telling him something was off.
He stood there, a knot of worry tightening in his chest. Fear gripped him, and for a moment, he wondered if both of them had done something wrong.
"By the way, your phone rang earlier," he reminded her.
Monica, now aware, quickly grabbed it, only to find no new messages or calls.
"Maybe it was just an alarm clock," she suggested. Visak nodded just as Heng walked in.
"Dad?" Monica called, her gaze shifting to Visak's face, noticing his unease.
"Hello, Dad!" he greeted, Heng nodded in response and asked.
"Hi. Have you been home since... what time?" he asked.
"Since around 3 p.m.," Visak answered quickly.
"Alright." Heng turned to his daughter. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Your mom insisted me to bring you to the hospital tomorrow."
"I'll take care of it," Sak said reassuringly.
"Good. Now, let's come down in minutes and we will have dinner together."
"Yes!"
***
Dara pulled into the driveway just as the evening settled in, the clock reading 7 p.m. He parked the car and stepped out, heading toward the door of his house.
"Dara!"
He froze, startled by the voice. Turning, his eyes met Sethya's, who was walking toward him with a soft, almost reluctant smile. Dara was surprised but kept calm.
"Can we talk?" Seth asked, his tone quiet but insistent.
Dara hesitated, the weight of the request pulling at him. He wasn't in the mood, but something in Seth's gaze made him pause.
"Please," Seth added, his voice tinged with urgency.
Dara exhaled deeply, then gave a reluctant nod, his past with Seth coming to the forefront.
—
Seth sank into the sofa, his posture stiff, as if every movement was deliberate. Dara stood by the counter, uncapping a bottle of water. He handed it to Seth without a word and sat down.
"Thank you," Seth murmured, taking a sip, his eyes never leaving Dara.
Dara watched him for a moment before asking, his voice cool but laced with curiosity, "What brings you here?"
Seth chose his words carefully, knowing the weight they carried. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke,
"I was wrong to leave you. It was cowardice to abandon you when you needed me the most—when your mom died, and I couldn't even be there for you. I wanted to come back, to be by your side through it all. I hope you're okay, forgive me... are you?"
"F*ck off!" Dara snapped, his anger boiling over as he stood, fists clenched.
Seth was taken aback, his nerves suddenly raw. "Why? Why, Dara?"
The pain in Dara's eyes was unmistakable, his voice a jagged edge. He stood up.
"I hate it! I hate how everyone expects me to be fine after all you cast me into hell. You leave, then come back, asking for forgiveness, for me to just let go... Well, f*ck off!"
Seth rose to his feet, his resolve hardening as he faced Dara.
"I was wrong—I should have been wiser, should have known better. But I've made up my mind now. Dara… what could I have done when my parents were pressuring me at every turn? And the footage... I could barely handle it. Honestly, I wasn't sure whether to keep going or just stop. But right now, here, I know what I want. I want you. I want to be with you. Please, give me a chance to try again."
His words seemed to soften something inside Dara. Seth's voice softened as he spoke, his words heavy with emotion.
"Dara, losing your mother hurt you deeply, and it made me hesitate, made me fearful of seeing you, afraid you'd push me away. Since that day, I've carried the weight of not being there for you... but now, I'm resolved."
There was a long silence.
"Can we start over?" he asked, his voice steady but pleading. "Let's face everything together."
Dara's gaze was unreadable, but the doubt in his eyes was clear. "I'm sorry, my trust issues… they're just too strong."
Seth leaned forward, his sincerity palpable. "Give me time to prove myself. Let me stay by your side. Time will show you my heart."
Dara was still torn between his walls and the quiet hope stirring within him. He didn't speak, but in his stillness, Seth thought he saw the faintest sign of agreement—a longing to be with him once more.
***
The two men sat side by side on the worn sofa in Dara's modest living room. The wooden table before them held a few half-empty beer cans, a plate of mixed beef salad, and some fried chicken, remnants of a hastily thrown-together meal.
Dara leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his voice heavy with tension.
"We're reopening the case," he said. "You saw the news about my sister…"
Sethya nodded, his expression grim. "I did. That's also one of many reasons I needed to see you."
Dara exhaled sharply, his hands tightening into fists. "It's been… awful."
His boyfriend hesitated, then leaned closer. "Do you think it was her? Did she do it?"
Dara's gaze dropped to the floor, his voice faltering. "I don't know. I can't say for sure, but she's the only one who makes sense as the prime suspect. No one else comes close."
"It's strange," Seth mused, his brow furrowed. "She doesn't seem like someone who could pull that off alone. And now she's sick, isn't she?"
Dara nodded, his expression clouded. "Yes, she is."
"Women don't usually have the physical strength for something like this," the man said, his tone cautious. "Unless… someone helped her."
Dara's silence spoke louder than any answer could. The weight of unspoken doubts hung heavily between them.
Seth shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes.
"And the crime scene was in her hometown. How could she have done it alone, without anyone noticing? I mean... it just doesn't add up. She doesn't seem like one."
Dara tilted his head, his voice calm but probing. "Then who do you think it could be?"
Seth leaned forward. "You mentioned meeting some people during your visit to your hometown these days, right?"
"Yes," Dara replied cautiously.
"Then look deeper into them, one by one!" Seth suggested, his tone laced with urgency.
"A police officer is already on it, and we're meeting soon." Dara said.
"Alright," Seth agreed. "But in a case like this, trusting anyone fully might be a mistake," Seth added.
"I know," Dara muttered.
"And I'm still trying to figure out who planted the spy camera, recording us," Seth said, his voice low and heavy with frustration.
"But… I heard it was inside a gift box?" Dara asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes!" Seth confirmed, a grin playing on his lips.
"Which one?"
"A small one. A gift—two pens, a pair."
"Pens?" Dara repeated, incredulous.
"Yes. A branded one. Expensive."
He scoffed. "Who the hell gives us pens?"
"We don't know," Seth admitted. "After the shop closed, we gathered some of the smaller gifts to take back to the condo, remember?"
"Yeah… I remember."
"I found a few small gifts and left it on the table next to our bedroom."
Dara froze. A chill ran down his spine.
"…The f*ck kind of coincidence is that?"
"It's been a nightmare—too many people had access, and we don't even know who betrayed us." His words hung in the air, laced with sadness and a lingering sense of violation.
Dara nodded solemnly. "It's hard to know who to trust. And How's your shop now?"
Seth let out a weary sigh. "Mom hired a manager now. And I need rest… and treatment. Mental treatment, you know?"
Dara frowned. "Mental treatment? Is it that serious?"
His gaze dropped, sadness etched into his face. "Yeah. After everything—our breakup, your mom's death… I saw a psychiatrist. I've been on medication, but…" He hesitated. "I just wanted to come back to you."
"Has the medicine helped?"
"It has. But I'm trying to stop now."
"Keep taking it until you heal."
Seth's voice wavered. "I can't… not without you. And you?"
"I have no time yet, I think I need it too"
"I'm with you!"
Dara let out a soft chuckle, and for a moment, the weight between them lifted. They smiled, their hands brushing against each other's shoulders, foreheads nearly touching.
***