It was late Friday night, and a dull ache in KK's stomach finally forced him to look at the clock. He realized with a start that he hadn't eaten a real meal all day—only a few pork buns a medical assistant had dropped off in the morning. He had seen dozens of patients and performed four minor surgeries. He had intended to order lunch, but a twenty-minute window wasn't enough time to wait for a delivery.
He picked up his desk phone and dialed the cafeteria. After placing an order for himself and a late-working colleague, he hung up and rubbed his tired eyes. He wondered who would be left to bring the food at this hour.
In the kitchen, Fon hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. She walked back into the darkened prep area and complained, "Ugh, I wish the Doctor hadn't called so late. We're already packed up and ready to head out."
Aisoon, already in his coat, looked at her guiltily. "Pi Fon, I really can't stay. It's my mother's birthday, and my parents are waiting for me at the restaurant."
"Aisoon, Santichai stayed late last Friday," Fon said, crossing her arms. "It's your turn."
"But Pi Fon..." Aisoon's face fell.
"Not this time," she insisted.
Santichai, who was loading the final rack into the dishwasher, wiped his hands and walked over. He saw the genuine distress on Aisoon's face. Without a word, he reached out and took the order slip from Aisoon's hand.
"Go," Santichai said softly. "Don't be late for your mother's birthday."
Aisoon's eyes lit up. "Really? You'll take it?"
Santichai gave a small nod. "Mmm..."
Aisoon patted his shoulder enthusiastically. "Thank you so much! I'll cover for you next week—and the week after!"
"There's no need to swap shifts; it will only confuse Pi Fon," Santichai replied with a faint smile. "I don't have any plans anyway. I don't mind staying."
"Man, Santichai... if you were a woman, I'd date you in a heartbeat," Aisoon joked.
"Even if I were a woman, I wouldn't date you," Santichai teased back.
"Why not? Am I not handsome enough?"
"Aren't you in a hurry?" Santichai pointed to the clock.
"Oops! I'm dead meat. Thanks again, Santichai! Next time, ice cream is on me!" Aisoon waved and bolted out the back door.
Santichai turned to the stove and lit the burner. "Pi Fon, what should I make? The slip just says, 'anything available.'"
Fon sighed, looking at Santichai with a mix of affection and disappointment. "Santichai... you're too good. You shouldn't let people take advantage of you like that."
"It's okay," he said, setting a pan on the heat. "What should I cook?"
"Whatever is left," Fon said, already moving toward her office. "I'll do the bookkeeping while you cook. When you're done, let me know and I'll deliver it. You just focus on the cleaning and the trash."
"I've got it, Pi Fon," Santichai said, reaching for the last of the chicken breast and some cold rice. "I'll make chicken fried rice."
An hour later, there was a soft knock-on KK's office door.
"Come in," he called out.
Fon entered, carrying a plastic bag. "Room service."
KK looked up, surprised. "Mrs. Pricha? You didn't have to bring this yourself."
"When you called, everyone had already left for the night," she said with a smile.
"I apologize for the late order," KK said, standing up. "I lost track of time."
"It's no trouble. Compared to a doctor saving lives, walking a bag across the clinic is nothing." She checked her watch. "I have to get this deposit bag to the finance department before they close at eight. Enjoy your dinner, Doctor."
KK took the boxes. He dropped one off at Dr. Luo's office and returned to his desk with the second. He popped the lid and a cloud of savory steam hit him. "Chicken fried rice..."
It looked incredibly simple—just golden rice, bits of chicken, and a few green scallions. He took a bite, and his eyes widened. It was perfectly seasoned, with the slight "breath of the wok" char that only comes from careful cooking. He polished off the entire container in less than ten minutes, unsure if it was his hunger or the sheer comfort of the meal that made it taste so good.
After the final dish was dried and the kitchen counters were wiped to a sterile shine, the HappyCare Clinic fell into a deep, heavy slumber. The frantic energy of the day shift had long since evaporated, replaced by the low hum of night-lights and the soft squeak of a distant janitor's mop.
In his office, KK finally closed his laptop. The warmth of the fried rice still lingered in his stomach, a small comfort against the back-breaking fatigue of four surgeries. He stretched, his joints popping in the silence, and looked out the window at the nearly empty parking lot before making his final round before his shift end.
At the same time, three floors below, Santichai was pulling his heavy trash bags toward the dumpster. The night air was cool, biting through his thin shirt, but he welcomed it. It felt like a clean break from the grease and steam of the kitchen. He locked the back door of the clinic, the metallic thunk of the bolt echoing in the alleyway, and began the long walk toward his moped.
He moved through the pools of yellow light cast by the parking lot lamps, a lone shadow in a sea of asphalt. He didn't hear the heavy glass doors of the main entrance open, nor did he hear the quick, tired footsteps following behind him until a voice broke the stillness of the night.
At 10:05PM, KK finished his charting. He sat for a moment in the dark office, the taste of the ginger and garlic from the rice still a pleasant ghost on his tongue. He turned off the lights and walked out of the building.
The parking lot was a graveyard of cars, illuminated by the flickering orange glow of the streetlamps. In the distance, he saw a slight figure walking with a heavy, tired gait toward the moped stalls. It was the shoelace boy.
KK quickened his pace, his sneakers crunching on the gravel. "Hey!"
Santichai flinched, his shoulders jumping as he turned around.
"Did you just finish your shift?" KK asked, catching up.
"Yes," Santichai replied, his voice barely a whisper in the open air.
"Did you cook the late order tonight?"
Santichai blinked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "How did you know?"
KK smiled, and for the first time, the expression reached his eyes, erasing the lines of fatigue. "It was my order. And honestly? It was the best thing I've eaten all week."
Santichai looked down, his face warming. "I'm glad you liked it. I'm sorry it was so simple; the chefs had already gone home."
"I think it was exactly what I needed," KK said. He looked at Santichai, curious. "Are you visiting someone? I thought visitors weren't allowed this late."
"Oh," Santichai realized KK didn't realize he was a doctor. "I... I just thought..."
Before he could explain, Dr. Luo and two nurses approached. "Dr. Suwannarat! We're heading to karaoke. Come with us!" one of the nurses called out.
KK turned, his attention momentarily diverted. "I have some charts to finish, but thank you for the invite," he said with a polite laugh.
Santichai watched them—the educated, successful professionals speaking in medical terms he couldn't follow. He felt the familiar weight of being "the outsider." He quietly backed away, unnoticed, and walked to his moped.
He didn't look back as he drove out of the parking lot.
As he drove under the rhythmic flicker of the streetlights, he watched couples walking hand-in-hand. To Santichai, life felt like a series of traffic lights. Most people lived in the green—moving freely, hand-in-hand. But his life had always been lived in the yellow. He was the one who had to walk slowly behind his lover, making sure he didn't crowd them, didn't stop too fast, didn't cause an accident.
He wasn't jealous of the people in the green. He had walked those streets once, always three steps behind Asnee, trying to be what Asnee wanted. But now, he had built a wall. He told himself it was stronger than the Great Wall of China. It was a cold, solid barrier, and as long as he stayed behind it, no one could ever trip him up again.