Asnee's heart felt like it was boiling, a bitter heat that radiated from his chest and turned into a blinding migraine. He had become angrier lately, his temper shorter and more violent. Perhaps it was because the one person who used to absorb all his stress—the one who always had a cool cloth and a soft word—was no longer there to soothe him.
He groaned, the throbbing in his temples echoing the frantic beating of his heart. He yanked open his desk drawer, grabbed a bottle of painkillers, and shook two pills into his palm. He swallowed them dry, leaning his heavy head in his hands, waiting for the chemical silence to kick in.
As the medicine began to dull the sharp edges of his headache, Decha's words returned to haunt him. New boyfriend.
The thought was a spark in a room full of gasoline. He snatched his phone and redialed Decha.
"What's up, Nee?" Decha's voice sounded tired, wary.
"What's his name?" Asnee's voice was hoarse, ragged. "Tell me the name of that SOB."
Decha sighed, the sound crackling over the line. "Hinata. And Nee... Chai seems very happy now. He asked me to tell you not to disturb him anymore."
"Give me his number," Asnee demanded, ignoring the plea for peace.
"Ai Nee, I'm your friend. You know I can't do that. Remember when you ran away from Chai? Even when I wanted to tell him where you were, I stayed loyal to you. I have to do the same for him now."
Asnee's jaw tightened until it ached. "Fine. Then tell me where he works."
"I can't tell you that either," Decha said, "but I'll give you this: Look where you sent me today. You should start there."
Asnee didn't wait for Decha to finish his lecture on "letting go." He hung up, his mind churning with a dark, confused energy. He felt a surge of resentment toward Santichai. If you had just fought harder to stop the engagement, Asnee thought, I wouldn't have had to go through with it. This is your fault for being so easy to leave.
He stared at his phone, the screen glowing in the darkened room. He didn't have a name he could trace or a number he could call, but he had a location. He entered a different number—one he hadn't called in a long time—and pressed the button.
Asnee stared at the digital photo of Santichai on his screen. In the picture, Santichai was looking away from the camera, a soft, weary expression on his face. It was a photo from their time in the apartment—a time Asnee had treated as a temporary secret, but which he now realized was the only thing holding his sanity together.
He dialed his assistant. "May, I want you to help me follow someone. I'll send you a photo."
May's voice was professional, though confused. "Mr. Siriporn, who is going to organize your schedule while I'm away?"
"You do this first," Asnee snapped, his headache flaring again. "I want to know where he lives. He... he's a client who owes the company a lot of money. He's gone into hiding, and he's managed to dodge my other people. He won't suspect you."
"I understand, sir," May replied, looking at the image that appeared on her phone. "The last known location?"
"HappyCare Clinic. Take your time. I'll give you a week to find his address. Start tomorrow."
Asnee hung up, feeling a cold sense of accomplishment. If he couldn't have Santichai's love, he would have his location. He would have control.
But the world he had built for himself wouldn't let him breathe. His phone buzzed immediately—his mother.
"Asnee, where are you?" Mrs. Siriporn's voice was already draped in the commanding tone of a matriarch preparing for a performance.
"Just finished with a client, Ma."
"We have dinner tonight. Mr. Chongchit invited us to meet some of his close family members. It's a dinner party."
"Tip didn't tell me," Asnee murmured, a hollow feeling growing in his chest. Tipkamol—his fiancée—was the woman he was supposed to build a future with, yet he felt more connected to the man he was currently stalking.
"Mr. Chongchit just called," his mother insisted. "Be there."
"Okay," Asnee said, his voice flat. "I'm leaving now."
Inside HappyCare Clinic, the clinic cafeteria was quiet, the usual hum of voices replaced by the rhythmic swish-swish of Santichai's broom against the linoleum. The Sunday evening light stretched long shadows across the floor, making the empty hall feel vast.
"Santichai."
Santichai looked up, a reflex of fatigue in his eyes. "Mr. KK."
KK's brow furrowed with a mock sternness that didn't hide his affection. "What did you just call me?"
Santichai cleared his throat, a small blush creeping up his neck. "KK... what are you doing here? I thought you'd left."
"I was reviewing X-rays with Doctor Lin," KK explained, closing the distance between them. He looked at Santichai, his gaze softening. "I came to ask if you'd like to have dinner with my parents."
The broom stopped moving. Santichai looked at the polished floor, the weight of the suggestion pressing on him. "KK, I'm sorry... I'm not comfortable going. We just agreed on the trial. We haven't even officially dated yet. I want to take our time. And... I hope you can keep this private for now."
"I see," KK said, his smile remaining steady.
"I hope you aren't angry," Santichai whispered, bracing for the kind of coldness Asnee would have shown.
"I'm not. You want to keep it a secret because you're worried about my reputation, aren't you?" KK reached out, his voice filled with an understanding that caught Santichai off guard.
Santichai nodded, relieved.
"Thank you for being so considerate," KK said. "Then, is it alright if I accompany my parents to dinner alone?"
"You don't even need to ask me that," Santichai said, surprised by the question.
"I like to be open with the person I'm seeing," KK insisted. "I don't like secrets. If you want me to do something differently, you have to tell me, okay?"
Santichai felt a strange flutter in his chest—not the panicked heart-thumping he felt with Asnee, but a warm, steady glow. "Mmm."
"And Santichai?" KK leaned in a bit closer. "Call me Hinata from now on."
"Why?"
"Because no one has called me that since my grandparents died... except for my mother," KK admitted, his eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. "I want you to be the one who uses it."
"Okay... Hinata," Santichai practiced, the name feeling soft on his tongue.
KK's smile widened, bright and genuine. He looked left and right, ensuring the cafeteria was truly empty, before leaning down and pressing a quick, tender kiss to Santichai's forehead. "I'll call you later. Bye-bye."
KK entered the private suite of the hotel, the air thick with the smell of expensive jasmine and the hushed tones of high-stakes networking. He moved through the crowd with practiced grace, though his mind was still back in that quiet hospital cafeteria, tasting the lingering sweetness of the name Hinata.
Dussadi immediately intercepted him, her eyes bright with matchmaking intent. "Pi, sit here!" she insisted, pulling him into the seat between herself and Laddawan.
The introductions began like a roll call of the city's elite. Mrs. Chongchit—Tipkamol's mother—beamed as she introduced KK to her in-laws. It was then that the world seemed to shrink.
"I'm glad you didn't decide to marry Tipkamol," Mrs. Siriporn said with a sharp, triumphant smile. "Otherwise, my son would never have had the chance to meet her."
"We were not meant for each other," KK replied smoothly, his "doctor's mask" firmly in place.
Then, the introduction that changed everything. "This is my daughter, Ratana, and my son, Asnee."
KK nodded, offering a polite, generic smile. "Nice to meet you all." He didn't recognize them—to him, they were just more faces in a long line of social obligations.
"Mr. Suwannarat, I admire how competent you are for your age," Mr. Siriporn added, his voice full of calculated respect. "Asnee isn't much younger than you. Please, offer him your advice in the future."
KK looked at the man across from him. Asnee looked successful, polished, and handsome, but there was an unsettled energy in his eyes. "If there is anything you need help with, please let me know," KK said.
"Thank you, Pi Klaew Kla," Asnee said, his tone humble for the benefit of the parents.
"Call me KK."
Asnee stood up, extending a hand across the table. "It's a pleasure. I'm a newcomer to the business world. I'll be seeking your opinion often."
KK stood and shook the hand of the man who had called Santichai "garbage" only nights before. Neither man knew the truth. To Asnee, KK was a powerful mentor to exploit. To KK, Asnee was just a junior colleague.
The polite atmosphere shattered when the heavy doors at the back opened. Grandfather Suwannarat entered, flanked by Kittichat. The room fell into a sudden, respectful silence. The old man's eyes scanned the table, landing on KK with a look that was both sharp and frantic—a look that said the games were truly beginning.