Chapter 3

The golden sunset bathed Suvarnabhumi Airport in soft hues of orange and rose, but Freen Sarocha Chankimha didn’t stop to admire it. Her heels clicked rhythmically across the glossy floor as she strode forward with the grace and power of someone used to command. Behind her, her three best friends—Tzuyu, Jennie, and Namtan—followed in practiced silence, their steps echoing in near unison as they slipped past arrivals with calculated precision.

“I can’t believe we’re back,” Jennie murmured, glancing out at the familiar skyline from the airport windows. Her oversized sunglasses sat firmly on the bridge of her nose even though the sun was already dipping below the horizon.

Thailand. A place Freen hadn’t called home. This wasn’t a homecoming. It was business—purely and simply damage control wrapped in tailored suits and cold intentions.

“No fanfare, no one waiting,” Tzuyu said under her breath, sipping her iced Americano as her eyes flickered across the busy concourse. “Just like you wanted.”

“I told no one,” Freen replied, her voice clipped, her gaze unwavering. “And I want it to stay that way.”

Namtan exchanged a glance with Jennie and Tzuyu. They knew better than to pry. Freen was a fortress—fortified and unforgiving, especially when it came to the past. But even the strongest walls crack with time.

Outside, a black SUV waited. Their ride to central Bangkok was smooth and quiet, the only sounds coming from the occasional honk or the subtle hum of Freen’s phone as her assistant’s updates poured in. Sarocha Holdings had summoned her like a lighthouse to a ship lost at sea. She wasn’t here for sentiment.

The high-rise condo they arrived at bore no trace of her name. Reserved under an alias, it was modern, sleek, and impersonal—exactly what Freen preferred. After assigning rooms to her friends, she stepped out onto the balcony, phone pressed to her ear.

“Get me a full status report on the Kindergarten Royal expansion by tonight,” she said sharply. “I want to confirm our family trust investments are being used efficiently.”

Jennie, now lounging on the ivory couch, raised a brow. “Kindergarten Royal? That ultra-fancy kindergarten in this country?”

“The one that costs more than some people’s med school,” Namtan added, snorting.

“My dad asked for it to be renovated a bit,” Freen said.

“So now you’re a architect ?” Tzuyu teased.

Freen didn’t answer. Her silence, weighty as stone, hung in the air. Her father had indeed asked—weeks ago. She hadn’t replied until she was already boarding the flight. The truth was, she didn’t want to come home. But she had to.

Back at the Chankimha estate, the evening sun had long since faded. The quiet murmur of dinner gave way to sudden tension as Milk stared at her phone.

“She’s here,” she whispered.

Her parents turned to her sharply.

“Who?” said Mr Chankimha, Somchair asked.

“Freen.”

“She didn’t tell us?” asked Mrs Chankimha, Anuran.

“She didn’t tell anyone. I only found out from Jennie’s Instagram story.”

Freen arrived unannounced at the Chankimha villa just at afternoon. Her sleek black blouse and high-waisted beige slacks made her look more like she was arriving at a boardroom than her family home. Yet, the moment she stepped onto the polished stone steps of the entrance, a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

Milk opened the door, arms crossed tightly across her chest, eyes sharp.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” she said.

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Freen replied.

“It does.”

“Can I come in?”

Milk stepped aside without a word, though her silence screamed louder than any protest.

Their father stood in the middle of the living room, the television muted behind him. He had aged. Time had lined his face and slowed his gait, but his presence remained powerful.

“Welcome home,” he said.

Freen nodded curtly. “I’m not staying long.”

“I know without you tell me.”

They sat. The air was thick with the things they didn’t say. Conversation skated over shallow topics—company updates, travel, government regulations—until finally, her father cut to the chase.

“I want you to go to Kindergarten Royal tomorrow.”

“I already planned to.”

“Good,” he said.

“Also, take Mavin with you.”

Freen blinked. “Why?”

“You’re going there anyway. Let him feel proud that his aunt took him. Dunk and his wife have work.”

“I’m not a babysitter.”

“”Who said you were a babysitter?,” asked Somchair.

Freen rolled her eyes.

“You used to be good with Mavin even though from phone calls and video calls,” said Milk.

“He barely remembers me,” Freen muttered.

“You’re still his favorite,” Dunk said, entering the area of living room after eavesdrop on their conversation, holding a mug of tea.

Freen sighed. “Fine. Once. But don’t make this a habit.”

Footsteps approached—quick, light, and joyful.

“Aunt Freen!”

Mavin, six years old and full of energy, barreled into the living room, a tiny dinosaur toy clutched in his hand.

Freen barely had time to react before he launched into her lap. “Mommy said you weren’t coming back! But now you’re here!”

Freen’s expression softened without her realizing. “Looks like she was wrong.”

“Wanna see my new dinosaur book? It ROARS!”

“Sure.”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the play room, where a spread of storybooks and toy figures were scattered across the floor.

Jennie, Tzuyu, and Namtan trailed behind Milk, peering curiously into the room.

“She’s not scary around kids after all,” Jennie whispered.

Namtan grinned. “She’s even smiling.”

“Should we document this rare species?” Tzuyu joked, pretending to hold up a camera.

Freen, oblivious to their remarks, was listening intently to Mavin’s explanation about how the Tyrannosaurus Rex ruled the Earth. Her hand ran gently over his hair.

“I missed you,” Mavin said, pressing his cheek into her arm.

Freen’s eyes glimmered for just a second. “I missed you too.”

Milk, still standing at the doorway, felt a tug at her heart. Her sister, the one who vanished when the world got too loud, was here. Whole. But carrying ghosts.

“You should stay longer,” Milk murmured.

Freen turned, lips pressed. “Don’t push.”

“Just saying what everyone else wants to.”

Dunk joined the group with another chair in hand. “Let’s talk. Catch up properly.”

Jennie flopped into the loveseat beside Namtan. “Finally. I was getting tired of watching Freen in CEO mode 24/7.”

“Please,” Tzuyu said, crossing her legs. “She’ll turn even bedtime into a business meeting.”

They laughed lightly, the room finally starting to feel like a family gathering.

The play room buzzed with soft talk and small laughter. Dunk shared how Mavin had recently won a drawing competition. Their mother brought out fresh fruit and honey tea. Jennie talked about their last chaotic campaign shoot in Milan. Even Freen chuckled when Tzuyu recounted the time Namtan accidentally hit reply-all to an email that insulted a designer’s choice of lace.