Later that night, Monica drove her car down a dimly lit road, her grip tight on the steering wheel. Nida's words echoed in her mind.
"I'm working on our next move. You should stay low-key for now," Monica had said.
"Yes, and I still work with Visal, and just follow Dara?" Nida asked, her voice tinged with doubt.
"You need to stick to your role," Monica emphasized, her tone firm and unwavering.
"Ok. So, until I get the crucial information from Visal, I'll keep you updated," Nida replied.
"Thank you, Nida. I appreciate your help."
With a determined expression, Monica turned onto a narrow, secluded road, her mind already racing ahead.
***
At Dara's house, the scent of stir-fried noodles and beef filled the air as Sethya busied herself in the kitchen, preparing dinner.
In the living room, Dara sat on the sofa, engrossed in typing an article. His fingers danced across the keyboard, pausing only to share the draft with his friend Vuthy via Google Docs.
The text he wrote was damning:
"Han Bunheng sent money to Kong Sarith, the younger brother of the late Kong Sarotah, to resume garage construction in exchange for silencing the controversy surrounding his sister's death. Furthermore, on the fifth Wednesday, Heng ordered Rith to halt the case's reopening and, if he could. Listen to the leaked conversation between Heng and Rith below…"
Sethya approached, setting a plate of steaming noodles on the table beside Dara.
"What are you working on?" he asked, curiosity laced with concern.
Dara didn't look up. "I'm done waiting. This can't be hidden any longer."
Sethya leaned in to read the article. His face paled, and his voice quivered with unease.
"You're planning to expose your own father? Post this on social media?"
Dara's gaze finally met hers, unflinching. "So what if I am?"
"I think you should be more careful," Sethya said, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "This is too dangerous—it could harm him."
Dara's jaw tightened. "You're afraid it'll harm him because you don't know how he treated my mom and me—or even when she's dead…"
Sethya's gaze softened.
"I know, Dara. I know what you've been through, all of it. But you have to face the truth. As I've told you before, you've already accepted your fate as… an illegitimate son. But now, let me ask you—are you seeking the truth to bring justice for your mother, or are you after revenge?"
Dara flinched, the words hitting harder than he expected. Sethya pressed on.
"If you win, your father's family will be shattered. If you fail… what do you expect to come of this?"
"So what should I do?" Dara snapped, his frustration boiling over. "I can't even fully trust Visal and Nida! They're too slow in this process, and—"
Seth leaned back in his chair, his voice measured but laced with worry.
"At least Visal is a police officer, and Nida works for an insurance company. I've been rethinking our approach. You know how complicated and time-consuming the legal process can be."
Dara, his frustration palpable, shot back, "Delayed justice is injustice, Seth!"
Seth sighed, his tone turning serious.
"Dara, you need to choose your moves wisely. If we're not careful, they'll twist the truth to their advantage. Money holds more power than we'd like to admit—it can overshadow even the strongest truths."
Dara winced, his thoughts swirling with pain and anger.
"I keep thinking about the quiet atmosphere of my hometown. How could no one have witnessed the crime? It doesn't make sense!"
His head throbbed, and tears welled in his eyes. He pressed his hands against his temples, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "I can't take this anymore," he whispered.
Seth reached out, his voice tender. "Take a break, my love. Slow down. Sometimes, when you rush, you miss the smallest details—the ones that could change everything."
Dara couldn't hold back any longer. Tears spilled freely down his cheeks as his composure crumbled. Seth pulled him close, gently wiping away his tears.
"Look at me, my love," he whispered, his lips brushing Dara's forehead.
The gesture deepened, his lips finding him, their shared pain giving way to a moment of solace.
The room grew quieter, their connection consuming them, as they sought comfort in each other's embrace. Their passion ignited like a spark catching flame, and soon they were lost in each other, their love unfolding in an intimate embrace on the sofa, where the world outside faded to nothing.
—
Seth stood under the shower, the water falling over him in a steady stream. The door creaked softly, and Dara appeared in the doorway, his gaze steady.
"I wanted to shower with you," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet longing.
Without a word, Seth extended his hand, pulling Dara gently toward him. "Come in," he whispered, his voice deep with unspoken emotion.
They stepped into the shower together, the warmth of the water enveloping them as they shared a quiet, intimate moment, the world outside fading into the distance.
***
In the quiet stillness of the neo-villa, Heng, Visaknu, Dalin, Marina, and even Sophea lingered anxiously, waiting for Monica to return. The clock ticked past 11:30 p.m., the weight of the late hour settling over them.
Dalin sat beside Heng at the dinner table, absently tapping his fingers on the wood, while Marina and Visak stayed close to Sophea on the living room sofa.
Marina stared at her phone, repeatedly checking for a call or message from Monica, but each time, there was nothing.
"What should we do now, Visak?" Sophea asked, her voice trembling with worry.
Visak hesitated, her fingers knotting together. "If it's midnight and she's not back…I'll call the police," she murmured.
Before anyone could reply, a sudden flash of headlights lit up the driveway, cutting through the darkness. Relief swept through the room as Heng and Dalin sprang to their feet.
"She's here!" Sophea exclaimed, rushing out the front door. Marina and Visak trailed after her, their tension giving way to urgency.
Monica stepped out of her car, her bag slung over one shoulder. She froze mid-step, startled by the trio charging toward her, their faces lined with concern.
"What's wrong?" Monica asked.
Her words sent a ripple of disbelief through the campus.
"Look at you! Everyone is worried about you!" Sophea snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.
"Why bother?" Monica replied, her tone dripping with arrogance. The air grew thick with silence as everyone froze, stunned by her audacity.
Monica brushed past them, heading toward the house. At the door, Heng stood waiting, his arms crossed, his eyes full of unspoken questions. She didn't meet his gaze, sidestepping him without a word.
"Where have you been all day, Monica? And now you return like this?" Heng's voice was calm but carried an edge.
"So what?" she shot back, her indifference cutting deep.
Sophea, unable to bear her eldest daughter's insolence, grabbed Monica's hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
Monica didn't resist. Without a word, she followed her mother, her silence more unnerving than her defiance.
—
In Monica's room, it was just the two of them. Sophea sat on the sofa, her gaze fixed on her daughter, who avoided eye contact.
Downstairs in the living room, Marina and Visak waited patiently, while Dalin tended to Heng, who had taken ill and was resting in their room.
"Why, Monic? Why did you leave home, turn off your phone, and come back so late like this?" Sophea's voice was firm but laced with concern.
Monica remained silent, her lips pressed tightly together.
"Tell me, my daughter… are you angry with your father? Is that it?" Sophea pleaded.
"It's late, Mom. Either go back home or stay here with me tonight," Monica replied curtly.
"Monica!" Sophea's frustration was evident now.
"I'm tired, Mom. I need to sleep," daughter snapped, turning her back to her mother.
"You can't act this way!" Sophea's voice broke. "Do you even realize how worried we've been all day?"
Monica's lips curled into a mocking smile, silencing her mother mid-scold.
"Monic?" her mother's voice was sharp, edged with impatience.
"Worried?" Monica asked with a raised brow, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Yes! Do you think we're pretending?"
"Worried about me?"
"Where did you go?"
"I wanted to run away. I wanted to disappear. So what?"
"Hey! Is that how an ungrateful daughter treats her mother?"
"Oh, my!" Monica gasped, her mockery unrelenting.
"Monica!"
"..."
"Do you even realize what you're doing right now? What's wrong with you? Are you losing your mind?"
"..."
"You have no idea how much I worry about you! You left home while sick, turned off your phone, and now you come back acting like this!"
Monica's smile faded, replaced by a sharp glare. "I wonder—are you all really worried about me, or about the reputation, the money, the wealth? You treat me like I'm some kind of criminal."
Her mother froze, stunned. "My…God."
Her voice trembled with pain as she spoke, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Are you worried that I'll get caught and ruin everything you guys have?"
Sophea's sobs broke the silence, her face streaked with tears. Heng entered the room, his expression freezing in shock.
"You think I'm a killer, don't you?" Monica continued, her voice rising. "You don't trust me, you hate me, and yet you say you're worried about me? Spare me the lies!"
"We just wanted to protect you, dear," Heng said softly, his words weighed down with emotion.
Monica's laughter was bitter, cutting. "Protect me?"
"Yes, I did everything out of love for my child! And you think I'm the bad one here?" Heng explained.
"Love? You call this love? You didn't even ask me if I was the one who caused her death. You believe everyone else—everything else—but not me. Not once did you ask me to explain myself!"
Heng was struck silent, his mouth opening and closing as if to speak, but no words came. Sophea's sobs grew quieter, though her sorrow remained palpable.
By the doorway, Marina stood in the shadows, guilt etched into her face as she realized how unfairly she had treated her sister.
Yet Visak, leaning against the wall, remained quiet. His expression betrayed nothing, his thoughts a mystery.
Monica's voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "I can't understand why you all think like this… it hurts so much. The pain is unbearable. Please, just leave me alone."
***