Inside the reception room, the last light of day was fading, leaving behind an evening sky brushed with a soft orange glow. The vast open space, uninterrupted by any pillars, revealed a panoramic view of the Chao Phraya River through floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The entire room was done in shades of black, gray, and white, blended with minimalist décor that spoke of understated taste. And yet every piece of furniture looked obscenely expensive without needing a price tag.
But at this late hour, when the light outside was nearly gone, the room still remained unlit. The atmosphere felt suspended somewhere between beauty and darkness.
Not unlike the true nature of the person who owned this place.
Rafah Witchakornin, dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and matching trousers, was sitting before a glossy black piano. Her long, dark hair had been left loose, spilling softly over her shoulders, while her slender fingers moved lightly across the keys with a touch that was both delicate and powerful.
The melody rang through the room, leaving Petra breathless the moment she stepped inside. She could not tear her eyes away from the sight before her. Rafah was beautiful and mysterious, yet at the same time, dangerously so.
When the final note faded away, Rafah's voice rose in its place.
"I thought you wouldn't dare come see me anymore, Petra."
The greeting made Petra nervous. Her hands curled into fists before she realized it, and she answered carefully.
"Why would you think that, Khun Rafah?"
Rafah rose from the piano and walked toward her, one step at a time.
"I don't know… maybe because you seem afraid of me."
She kept moving closer to Petra before finally stopping.
"Why? Am I really that frightening?"
Those razor-sharp eyes stared straight at her until Petra had to look away. She fell silent for a long moment, because she knew the truly frightening thing was not Rafah.
It was her own heart, which was being taken over by this woman without her even realizing it.
There was something magnetic about Rafah that made Petra want to move closer and closer to her, to the point where Petra no longer understood what was happening to herself. Maybe she was like a moth, bewitched by a burning flame, circling closer without realizing it was a fire ready to burn her alive.
"The song you were playing just now was beautiful. What's it called?" Petra decided to change the subject. She did not dare answer the previous question directly.
Rafah glanced at her, as if mildly surprised that Petra had changed the topic, but she said nothing about it. She walked to the bar counter, poured wine into a crystal glass, and answered in an even voice.
"Chopin's Nocturne… in C-sharp minor. If you've seen the 2002 film The Pianist, you might recognize it."
Petra went still.
She knew neither the piece nor the film, but chose not to ask, afraid of seeming less knowledgeable in front of the woman before her.
But Rafah spoke again, as if she could read her mind.
"It's not strange if you don't know it," Rafah said calmly. "Music, films... people have different tastes. I don't know everything either."
"Yes," Petra replied, not knowing what else to say.
Rafah looked at her for a moment before speaking in that same calm voice.
"You look cute today. That night, your outfit was more on the sexy side. But in a sweet dress like this, you look soft, pretty, and very cute."
Petra almost failed to hold back her smile, but she forced her face to remain still. She did not want Rafah to know how easily a few words of praise could make her heart race.
Rafah merely gave a faint smile before continuing in a casual tone.
"I had dinner prepared for us. Come eat with me first. We can talk while we eat. No need to be so tense."
On the way to the dining room, Petra's eyes caught the oil paintings hanging one after another along the walls, as if this hallway were a private gallery.
Petra glanced at them only in passing at first, but then she suddenly stopped. Her gaze settled on a large painting in a black-and-gold frame. It was a painting of a full-grown black panther, its eyes razor-sharp, its deep black fur beautifully touched by the moonlight reflected across it.
She stopped walking without realizing it.
And Rafah seemed to notice.
"Do you like this painting?"
Petra nodded.
"It looks so majestic. Almost alive..."
"Sabriya."
"What?"
"That's the black panther's name."
Rafah told her, then began to explain.
"Our foundation rescued her when she was still a cub. Her mother was shot by wildlife traffickers."
Petra went quiet for a moment.
"That's awful."
"Yes. Killing the mother is almost the same as killing the cub too. Rehabilitating an orphaned cub and returning it to the wild is extremely difficult. If it's raised by humans and fed by humans, it loses the skills it needs to survive. More importantly, it stops fearing humans. If we release it into the forest, it may wander into villages looking for food, and that puts it at risk of being shot again. In the end, it only creates conflict between people and wildlife."
"Can't we find a protected forest for it to live in?"
Rafah shook her head.
"It's hard to find a healthy forest that hasn't already been claimed by another tiger or panther. If the animal we release strays into another big cat's territory, it could be attacked and killed too. It may sound depressing, but some orphaned cubs have to live in conservation centers for the rest of their lives."
Listening to her, Petra felt a deep sadness settle in her chest. She asked Rafah, "Was Sabriya like that too?"
"No. Sabriya was lucky. Our caretakers were very strict and reduced human contact to zero. Our staff fed her through a closed feeding system, without speaking to her or appearing in front of her. We trained her wild instincts in a closed simulated forest environment, so she could learn to survive and find food on her own in the wild. Now she's living in the forest, exactly where she should be... but not every case is that lucky."
Petra listened intently. Quiet admiration for Rafah grew in her heart.
Then her gaze drifted to the lower corner of the painting, where a small signature had been written in silver strokes.
Rafah Witchakornin.
"You painted Sabriya yourself?"
She asked, unable to believe her eyes.
Rafah only gave a slight nod.
"Yes. I imagined what she'd look like when she grew up, then painted this."
Petra's heart beat harder, her admiration for Rafah multiplying in an instant. She had just realized that the woman before her was not only beautiful, intelligent, and commanding. She also possessed the soul of an artist.
But then Petra's gaze stopped on the next painting.
It was a painting of a naked woman with her head bowed. Her pale body was partly swallowed by darkness, while a sheer veil fell over half of her face. In the painting, the woman had no facial features at all. No eyes. No nose. Not even a mouth.
Only emptiness beneath the veil.
"This painting is called The Faceless," Rafah said. "A woman without a face. No one knows if she's smiling or crying."
Petra stared at the painting for a long time. Loneliness and desolation seemed to seep from every part of it.
"This painting feels so lonely. Why did you paint it, Khun Rafah?"
Rafah froze.
No one had ever asked her that question before.
"No reason."
She gave Petra a short answer, then turned and walked away at once.
Petra could only stand there, watching Rafah's back as she moved farther away.
Maybe the woman in that painting was a reflection of the deepest part of Rafah's own heart.
Rafah Witchakornin.
The woman who looked perfect in everyone's eyes.
Was she truly that lonely?
...
Inside the dining room, decorated with quiet luxury, a long dark oak table stood at the center of the room. Light from the crystal chandelier glittered across the polished tabletop. Beyond the wide glass wall, the Chao Phraya River stretched into view, swallowing the last light of sunset.
Petra sat with her back straight, her hands clasped together in her lap. Her face looked calmer than the emotions surging inside her. She tried to avoid meeting Rafah's eyes, but when Rafah spent the entire hour simply eating in silence and looking at her, Petra finally spoke first.
"So, why did you ask me to come here, Khun Rafah?"
Rafah paused slightly before setting her fork down on the plate.
"You're more impatient than I thought."
"I'm not impatient, Khun Rafah. But you've been eating and staring at me for the past hour. It's uncomfortable."
Rafah leaned back against her chair, her sharp gaze never leaving her.
"The reason I invited you here today is simple. It's because you watched me and Naphatsorn that night."
Petra froze, then answered in an even voice.
"I already told you. I didn't mean to watch you, and I didn't secretly take any photos. I just went into that room to rest and accidentally fell asleep. When the two of you came in, I panicked and hid behind the curtain. Then my dress got caught, and the curtain tore. When you saw me, you wouldn't listen to anything I said. You took my phone and accused me of secretly recording you."
Her words did not shake Rafah in the slightest. Rafah only stared at Petra for a long while before speaking calmly.
"Do you like taking sexy pictures of yourself?"
The question made Petra's face go numb at once.
"I don't mean nude pictures. I mean things like... wearing something a little sexy, lying on your bed, posing in front of the mirror. Pretty to look at. That kind of thing."
Petra went still.
She knew immediately.
Rafah had seen everything on her phone.
"You... looked through my private pictures? They weren't even on the phone. Did you actually go into my iCloud?"
"I had to make sure there weren't any clips or pictures of me and Phat in there."
Humiliation rushed up into Petra's face.
She pressed her lips together tightly before speaking in a hard voice.
"Give me my phone back."
Rafah simply handed it back to her. The unbothered curve of her mouth only made Petra's anger burn hotter.
"Anya told me you went and bought a new phone. I wasn't planning to keep yours. I only wanted to check it to be sure. I'll pay you back for the new phone and compensate you for your time."
"No need. I don't want a single baht of your money."
Rafah raised an eyebrow and let out a low laugh.
"You're quite stubborn."
"And what are you gonna do about it?"
"Nothing."
Rafah rose from her seat, walked around the table, and leaned down. One hand rested on the edge of the table beside Petra. Her razor-sharp eyes met Petra's, deep and unwavering, before she spoke in a low voice.
"I find you... intriguing. And very fuckable."
Even though Rafah avoided the vulgarity of the sentence by saying it in English, it did nothing to lessen the force of the words.
Petra froze, then shot to her feet.
"You...!"
Her voice trembled so badly she could barely control it, but Rafah only leaned back into her seat with perfect calm, lifted her wine for a sip, and watched Petra without looking away.
.
.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Hojicha Writer
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