Chapter 11: The Wounds Left by One Drunken Night

Morning light filtered softly through the sheer white curtains. The room was still, so quiet that birdsong from outside could be heard in the background. Praemai stirred gently beneath the sheets, slowly blinking her eyes open. It took her only a few seconds to gather her thoughts—and then the memories from last night came rushing back. Not like in the movies, where the heroine wakes up confused and conveniently forgets everything. No, she remembered it all. The kiss. The rhythm of their breathing. The whispering. The way it felt. The look in Tawan’s eyes.

And the truth was... she had wanted it.

Praemai turned to glance at the woman lying beside her. Tawan was still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful. Strong brows. Defined features. That perfectly sculpted mouth. Everything about her was stunning. Even though Praemai didn’t want to admit it, she had to—Tawan was gorgeous. The kind of woman who could pull off both the soft, elegant look and the effortlessly cool aesthetic. She was the type that would turn heads, even from other women.

If only she weren’t so emotionally constipated and always trying to look tough... she’d be nearly perfect.

Praemai reached out, intending to brush a strand of hair away from Tawan’s forehead. But before she could even touch her—

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Tawan’s voice exploded through the room, startling Praemai so badly she nearly fell off the bed. Tawan shot upright, eyes wide in panic. She looked around the room, then down at herself...

“What—what happened?!”

Her gaze dropped to her body—and that was when she realized she wasn’t wearing anything. Not even a thread.

Clutching the blanket in a panic, she wrapped it tightly around herself and whipped her head toward Praemai.

Praemai, equally naked under the same blanket, yanked back the other side in reflex.

“Don’t pull my blanket!”

“I’m naked, okay?! I’m just trying to cover myself!”

That made Praemai pause. She stared at Tawan for a long moment… and then, very calmly, let go of the blanket. She stood up. Completely and unapologetically naked.

Tawan’s jaw dropped. The blanket she’d been clinging to slipped from her hands. Praemai stood tall, entirely bare.

“I’m naked too,” she said evenly, locking eyes with her in a quiet challenge—waiting to see how Tawan would respond.

Tawan remained frozen, her brain clearly scrambling to process everything that had happened.

Because now it hit her.

She remembered.

And that… was the real problem.

.

.

The room that had burned with heat the night before… Now sat in utter silence, heavy and uncomfortable.

After collecting themselves, both Tawan and Praemai quietly got dressed. Now they sat side by side at the edge of the bed, neither daring to meet the other’s gaze. Tawan clutched her head like it might explode, her fingers running through her hair again and again in pure distress.

“…I’m sorry,” she finally whispered. “I was… drunk.”

Praemai didn’t respond.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Tawan continued, words tumbling out faster now—rushed and guilt-ridden. “Last night… I mean, it was a mistake. I’m really, really sorry.”

But the more Tawan spoke, the quieter Praemai became.

It shouldn’t have happened.

I’m really sorry.

Those words looped through her mind like a broken record.

Was that it? Was Tawan telling her it meant nothing—because she hadn’t meant it?

Hard to believe something so small could hurt this much. But it did.

Praemai turned her face away, composing herself. When she looked back, her heart-shaped lips curved into a smile—so flawlessly controlled, it was almost suspicious.

“Well, you were drunk,” she said lightly, her tone bordering on amused. “It’s not a crime to make a mistake when you’re not in your right mind.”

Tawan looked up sharply, guilt still plain in her eyes. But Praemai didn’t give her a chance to speak.

“Don’t overthink it,” she added with a shrug. “It was just one night. It didn’t mean anything.”

With that, she turned and headed for the door.

But just as she opened it—

“Whoa—”

She froze.

Standing in the doorway was Narin, stiff as a statue, clutching a water bill in her hand… and staring at them like she’d just seen a ghost in broad daylight.

The moment Narin took in the scene before her, whatever grogginess lingered from the night before vanished instantly.

She glanced from Praemai—barefoot, flushed, clearly startled—to the disheveled figure sitting on the bed: her older sister, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, face frozen mid-panic.

“Uh…” Narin's voice caught in her throat. She looked like someone who’d just walked in on a crime scene and completely forgotten what she came in to say. “The water bill guy came by just now. I… brought it up for you.”

She lifted the bill slowly, like she was presenting a murder weapon.

Honestly, could she have picked a worse time to walk in?

Praemai said nothing. Her gaze met Narin’s in eerie silence before she simply brushed past and left the room without a word, her expression unreadable.

The door to Tawan’s room remained ajar behind her. Narin stood there awkwardly for a moment, then slipped inside and quietly shut it.

She turned to find her sister still sitting stiffly at the edge of the bed, staring into space like someone who’d just been hit with a verbal truck.

“…P’Tawan?” Narin asked, voice low. “What the hell happened?”

Silence.

Her sister didn’t even blink, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Oh my god.” Narin’s eyes widened. “Did you and Praemai… last night—did something happen?!”

She clutched the water bill in one hand while the other twitched, like it was seconds away from yanking out her own hair.

“Wait. Are you telling me you slept with Praemai?! Just—just say it!”

...

In Praemai's Bedroom

Praemai stepped into her room with a blank expression, quietly closing the door behind her. She peeled off her clothes and dropped them onto the same chair as always, then walked into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower echoed as cold water streamed down from above, hitting her skin in sharp contrast. But instead of feeling refreshed or comforted, she stood frozen under the spray for what felt like minutes.

Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes tightly—letting the water run down her face. And with it, came the tears.

She wasn’t sobbing. She didn’t wail or collapse to the floor. It was the kind of crying where the pain simply spilled out, silently.

Tawan’s words kept replaying in her mind, looping again and again. Praemai bit her lip hard, trying not to let a single sound escape her. She blamed herself—for being too soft, for feeling too much, for foolishly thinking they might feel the same way.

She shouldn't have let Tawan in so easily. Not like that.

The truth of it hit her all over again, pressing in like cold air against bare skin. Before Tawan, she'd dated others—Sasina, a few brief flings here and there—but those had been shallow, fleeting things, born more of boredom or curiosity than anything real.

But last night...

Tawan was the first. The first person she’d given everything to—body and heart.

Standing there beneath the freezing water, she lifted her face to the stream as if it could wash everything away—the tears, the guilt, the aching foolishness of it all.

She didn’t know if it would.

But as long as she was still breathing, she told herself one thing:

No matter how much more came crashing down…

Nothing could possibly hurt worse than this.

…

In the small kitchen of the house,

Tawan was still in last night's clothes—rumpled shirt, tired face, and clearly unshowered. Sitting across from her was her ever-nosy younger sister, Narin, who was now fully engaged in Operation: Tease the Hell Out of Tawan.

“So let me get this straight,” Narin drawled, narrowing her eyes. “You’re seriously telling me that you and Praemai slept together last night… because you were both drunk?”

Tawan let out a long sigh. “Mm.”

That answer, as expected, did not sit well with Narin.

She raked both hands through her hair in frustration, then exploded, “Tawan! If you can’t control yourself when you drink, then stop drinking! I’m begging you. Please!”

Tawan immediately snapped her head around. “Oh, and who was the one pouring me shots all night?”

Narin flinched. Okay, fair.

“Yeah, yeah—fine. My bad,” she muttered, scrunching her nose in sheepish guilt. “I just didn’t think you’d be such a lightweight.”

There was a beat of silence before she leaned forward, suddenly serious. “But what about Patcharawee? What’s the deal there? You can’t be playing two women at the same time. As your sister, I do not approve.”

Another sigh escaped Tawan. She replied quietly, “That’s over.”

Narin blinked. “Wait—what? When did that happen?”

“It’s over,” Tawan repeated, more firmly this time, though her gaze dropped to the table. “We’re just friends now.”

She didn’t elaborate further, clearly not in the mood to revisit it. Whatever had happened, she didn’t want to badmouth Patcharawee. If it was over, then it was over—she wanted it left at that.

But Narin wasn’t done.

“Ugh, finally!” she groaned. “Took you long enough to open your eyes. You were always defending her—‘Wee this, Wee that.’ I kept telling you, that girl was stringing you along. Sure, she’s gorgeous, has a killer resume, and can probably out-invest anyone on the planet—but the way she treated you? That’s not what good people do.”

Tawan didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Her silence said enough. That chapter was closed.

But the new one? Still wide open.

Narin cut straight to it:

“So… what about Praemai?”

“Mr. Woraphot asked me to look after his daughter… So yeah, I have to take responsibility. I need to talk to Praemai. Then to our dad. And to Mr. Woraphot too.”

Tawan’s voice was quiet, weighed down with guilt.

Narin squinted at her.

“Wow. You really just said ‘take responsibility’ like a character in a soap opera.” She threw up her hands. “What, have you been binge-watching TV dramas lately? Drunk or not, if you slept with her, you must’ve had some sense left in that head of yours. And don’t tell me you felt nothing before this? Come on, you must’ve liked her. Even just a little. There had to be something—some spark, some chemistry. I mean—”

Before Narin could finish, a cool voice cut in from the doorway, making both sisters jump.

“You don’t have to take responsibility for anything,” Praemai said evenly. “It was just one night. I’m not making it into more than that.”

Tawan and Narin both froze, stunned by her sudden appearance.

“Crap. Mom’s here.”

Narin blurted under her breath, springing up from her chair. She leaned in to whisper frantically to Tawan, “You’re on your own, sis… I’m out.”

And just like that, Narin—the ever-loyal troublemaker—made a swift and silent escape.

…

After Narin’s hasty exit, the kitchen fell into silence once more. Only Praemai and Tawan remained, standing in a space that now felt suffocatingly quiet—so quiet, in fact, that the chirping birds outside seemed unnaturally loud.

Praemai didn’t say a word.

She simply walked to the cupboard, pulled out a slice of bread, spread butter over it, popped it into the toaster, then moved on to make her coffee—all without once acknowledging the presence of the woman standing behind her.

Tawan, still seated at the table, watched with tense eyes, unsure how to start. Maybe Praemai really did mean what she said earlier:

“You don’t have to take responsibility for anything.”

“It was just one night. I’m not making it into more than that.”

But for someone like Tawan…

Letting it go just wasn’t an option.

She stood up from her chair and slowly walked toward Praemai. Seeing the other woman still facing away, she reached out, gently placing a hand on her upper arm.

“Hey…” Tawan said softly. Her voice had lost its usual edge, replaced by something unsteady and careful.

But before she could say more, Praemai jerked her arm away with enough force to make Tawan stumble a step back.

“Don’t touch me.”

The words were sharp, loud—and laced with anger that had clearly been simmering beneath the surface.

Tawan instinctively raised both hands, as if in surrender, silently signaling that she meant no harm.

“I’m sorry…” she said quietly, unsure whether to say it at all—but saying it anyway.

Only, it turned out to be the worst thing she could’ve said.

“Stop saying that! I don’t want to hear that word from you ever again!”

Praemai’s voice rang out in the small kitchen like a whip crack, causing Tawan to flinch.

“Keep your apologies,” she continued, her tone cold and final. “And from this moment on, stay away from me.”

Tawan froze in place, eyes wide—like she’d just been slapped by the very words she didn’t want to hear.

Ding!

The toaster popped right on cue, the sound slicing through the tension with uncomfortable precision. Praemai turned calmly, retrieved the toast, and placed it on a plate. Without another word, she grabbed her steaming coffee and walked out of the room.

Tawan stayed exactly where she was.

Gone was the composed, capable woman who always had everything under control.

In her place now stood a quiet, stunned Tawan—someone who didn’t even know where to begin… let alone how to fix the damage she’d done.

…