Chapter 13

Namtan arrived at the Chankimha family’s house just as the sun began to rise, its golden hue filtering through the curtains. She walked in without hesitation, her heels clicking sharply against the ground, announcing her presence before her voice ever did. In her hand was a large cream-colored envelope, slightly creased at the edges as if it had been held too tightly during the car ride. She placed it down on the coffee table right in front of Freen, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her eyes blankly staring at nothing, as though the weight of the morning had already settled upon her shoulders.

“This is what you wanted me to investigate,” Namtan said, her tone carrying that familiar edge of confidence that always seemed to irritate Freen. “You can see now.”

She crossed her arms and waited.

Freen’s fingers brushed over the surface of the envelope, her touch hesitant, almost trembling, as though the truth inside might burn her skin if she opened it. The silence that settled between them was so thick that it seemed even the ticking clock on the wall had slowed down out of respect. Neither of them spoke for nearly an hour. An hour that stretched long and heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts, memories, and fears that neither wanted to confront.

Namtan, growing impatient, sighed dramatically. “Are you serious, Freen? We’ve been sitting here for an hour and you’re still staring at it like it’s going to open itself!” Her irritation cracked through her voice. “Fine. As your kind and helpful friend, I’ll open it for you.”

Before Freen could stop her, Namtan snatched the envelope away, tearing it open with a sharp flick. She had been waiting for this, partly for the drama, partly for the satisfaction of being right, and, perhaps most importantly, partly because she had made a deal with herself: if this turned out to be true, she was going to demand the sports car Freen had promised her.

After that, Namtan gave it to Freen.

“Is this… the truth?” Freen’s voice trembled, her disbelief wrapped in a thin veil of denial. “You’re not fooling me, are you, Namtan?”

Namtan looked at her with rare seriousness. “Do you think I have time to scam you about something like this, Freen?” she replied, her tone steady and low.

The silence that followed was different from before. It’s heavier, more dangerous. Freen stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Without a word, she turned to head upstairs. Namtan blinked, confused.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Freen glanced over her shoulder with a deadly glare. “You want your sports car, right?”

Namtan grinned shamelessly, nodding. “Exactly.”

Without hesitation, Freen grabbed the keys from the counter, expensive black ones she had been saving for herself and threw them at Namtan. “Take it. Just go.”

Namtan caught the keys midair, her grin widening. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

And with that, she left with satisfied, content, and completely unaware of the storm she had just set loose.

Freen, meanwhile, retreated to her room, her heart racing, her thoughts spinning in disarray. Her family noticed the sudden noise and hurried movements. Anuran, her mother, stopped her just before she could rush out the front door.

“Freen, why do you seem in such a hurry?” Anuran asked, her brows knitting in confusion. “It’s still too early for you to go to the office.”

Freen’s eyes flickered with an emotion that her mother hadn’t seen in a long time. It’s panic mixed with guilt. “Mom, I’m not going to the office,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. “I want to go see Becky. And… the triplets.”

The word triplets hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Somchair, who had been reading the newspaper nearby, looked up sharply. “Triplets?” he repeated, disbelief painted across his face.

“Your grandchildren, Dad,” said Milk quietly, stepping into the room. Her expression was calm but her tone carried the weight of something long hidden.

“Why don’t we know about this?” Somchair asked, his voice trembling with both confusion and a growing sense of heartbreak.

“Because Becky hid it,” Milk explained softly. “And can you blame her? Someone in our family hated her so much back then.”

The air turned cold. Everyone knew who that someone was.

Freen clenched her fists, her eyes hardening, but she said nothing.

“Milk,” she began quietly, “I don’t want to fight with you about this.”

“I didn’t mention you,”.

Somchair finally stood up. “Let’s go together, then. We’ll go see them.”

But Freen quickly shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “Until Becky forgives me… please don’t meet her first. I need to fix our relationship before anyone else does.”

Her parents exchanged glances. Despite the unspoken pain, they nodded in agreement. Freen’s tone left no room for argument. It was filled with determination, something fierce and fragile all at once.

—

Meanwhile, the morning sunlight peeked through the thin curtains of  the sickroom occupied by Fastian.

The triplets had already woken up long before their mother did. Fosbein, the most responsible of the three, quietly picked up the blanket from the floor and carefully covered Becky, making sure it reached her shoulders. He even placed a large pillow on the floor beside her, just in case she rolled off.

“Mommy almost fell off,” Fastian whispered, giggling softly.

“Mommy gave more space to me yesterday,” said Fahnareeh matter-of-factly.

“Mommy doesn’t seem sleep well in this position,” said Fosbein.

“Nareeh can sleep with us yesterday” said Fastian.

“Mommy said no,” Fosbein replied. “She said she’s afraid we won’t sleep comfortably. The bed can only fit two people and your hand still hurt.”

“It’s not hurt anymore,” said Fastian.

“Now be quiet. Mommy’s still sleeping.”

But Fahnareeh’s stomach had other plans. “Phi Rox, I’m hungry.”

“Mommy’s not up yet,” he reminded her.

Fastian’s eyes lit up suddenly with a mischievous glint. “We can go buy food ourselves.”

Fosbein’s brows furrowed. “Mommy will be angry later.”

“I’m hungry,” Fahnareeh said again, tugging at Fosbein’s shirt.

He sighed. “Fine… we’ll wait just a bit longer.”

But as minutes passed, the room remained silent except for Becky’s slow breathing. Fastian’s patience ran out first. “If you don’t want to go, I’ll go,” he said, standing up boldly and grabbing Fahnareeh’s hand.

Fahnareeh looked at Fosbein pleadingly.

He groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck before finally giving in. “Fine. I’m coming too. But we only buy food and come back quick.” He slipped his black card that Becky’s specially give them. Becky had given each of them one when they started kindergarten, teaching them to only use it for food.

“Let’s go,” he said at last.

The three of them left quietly, closing the door behind them, leaving Becky fast asleep on the couch, unaware that her little adventurers were already off to find breakfast.

The triplets held hands tightly as they made their way down the hallway, greeting strangers with cheerful smiles.

“Uncle, where can we buy food here?” Fosbein asked politely when they met a kind-looking man in a white coat.

“You can go to the café there,” the man said with a warm smile, pointing down the hall. “Walk straight and turn left.”

“Thank you, uncle!” Fosbein chirped.

They followed the directions, their tiny footsteps echoing softly through the hallway.

“Are you sure this is right?” Fahnareeh whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“Trust me,” said Fosbein with a confidence that only a big brother could fake. “We’re not lost.”

After a few minutes, they arrived at the café, the smell of coffee and warm bread filling the air.

—
Becky stirred awake. The sunlight was stronger now, slipping across her face and warming her skin. She stretched lazily, expecting to hear giggles and chatter nearby but the room was silent.

Her eyes opened wider. The space beside her was empty. No triplets in sight.

“Fosbein? Fastian? Nareeh?” she called out, her voice rising in worry.

She hurried to the bathroom. It’s was empty.  Her heart started to pound. Then she noticed it: the front door, slightly open, as if someone had forgotten to close it carefully.

Becky’s breath caught in her throat.

“They didn’t…” she whispered.

Panic seized her chest as she rushed out into the hallwayy.

“Excuse me!,” Becky showed him a picture of the triplets. “Have you seen them?,”

“No. Sorry.”

She could already feel her heart sinking, fear clawing at her throat.

“Where did they go…?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Where did my babies go?”

And just like that, one ordinary morning turned into the beginning of something far greater than she had ever imagined.