Chapter 9: Starting Over

“So… how was your last appointment with the psychiatrist?”

“It was fine. I changed doctors,” Rafah replied. “I’m in the second phase of tapering off the medication. The doctor said that if I can function without it, I won’t need antidepressants anymore.”

Arin nodded. She understood, but worry still crept into her expression.

Once before, Rafah had stopped taking her medication on her own, convinced she could manage without it. The result had been a relapse. Her emotions spiraled, and she had been forced to restart treatment from the beginning.

Arin studied her friend for a moment before speaking more gently.

“And your mother… is she doing okay? Have you been home at all?”

At the mention of her mother, Rafah froze. A deep, wounded look surfaced in her eyes.

“Not really,” she said shortly.

Her hardened gaze made Arin sigh.

“Rafah… you should go back sometimes. I feel sorry for her. Your father isn’t home much either, is he?”

“I just don’t want to go back,” Rafah snapped. “Why do you keep bringing this up?”

“Because I don’t understand,” Arin said quietly. “Are you still hung up on that accident?”

Rafah’s hand clenched instantly. Her voice dropped, dark and tight.

“I already told you. That incident… it wasn’t just an accident.”

“But it was a moment of madness on your mother’s part,” Arin said carefully. “Back then, she probably wasn’t in her right mind. That’s what I think.”

Rafah let out a bitter laugh. The sound was dry, hollow, and full of pain.

“A moment of madness?” she repeated coldly. “My mother drove straight into the back of a truck because she found out my father had taken my kindergarten teacher as his mistress. And that woman was pregnant.”

She laughed again under her breath, disbelief and bitterness twisting together.

“I almost ended up with a half sibling. That would have happened, if that crash hadn’t come first.”

Silence fell immediately.

Arin had no words. She knew that what Rafah had lived through as a child was more than anyone should have had to endure.

“It’s all in the past now,” Arin said softly. “You should try to forgive your mother.”

“Forgive her?” Rafah snapped. “You’re not me, Arin. Of course it’s easy for you to say that. That day was not an accident. My mother intended to kill herself. And she was willing to kill me too. I was sitting right there in the car when she drove straight into that truck.”

She paused, then forced the rest out in a low, contemptuous voice.

“And my father… he’s nothing but a bastard who never felt a shred of remorse. Because after that, he never stopped.”

She turned her face away, as if trying to tear herself free from the memories.

“I’ve been seeing psychiatrists since I was a child. Everyone knew something was wrong with me, but no one truly cared. My maternal grandparents were too busy paying to keep everything quiet, afraid the family name would be ruined. Outsiders who knew nothing spread rumors for entertainment, saying my mother slashed her own face just to spite my father.”

Arin let out a long sigh.

“Damn it,” she muttered. “Why is it that every time something like this happens, the man who caused it all walks away untouched? Your family ended up like this because of your father. I don’t want you to hate your mother. Hating your father the way you do is already painful enough.”

Her voice softened.

“But I’m not a doctor. I’m not a psychiatrist. I honestly don’t know how to help ease what you’re feeling.”

Rafah drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“It’s fine.”

Arin glanced at her, hesitation flickering across her face. After a moment, she asked anyway.

“Does your mother know about Khem yet?”

The name hit like a blade.

“Khem,” or Khemmika.

Rafah froze. Her slender fingers tightened around her wine glass, knuckles whitening as she fought the surge of emotion.

“I don’t want to hear that woman’s name right now.”

Arin kept her tone calm.

“You may not want to hear it, but one day you’ll have to talk about it. You can’t run from the truth about Khem forever.”

Rafah lifted her chin. Hatred glinted openly in her eyes.

“So what?” she scoffed. “You want me to accept my father’s latest mistress as part of the family? Someone like that, to me, she’s nothing more than a malignant cancer feeding on other people’s lives.”

“But you should tell your mother,” Arin said, trying to reason with her. “Things have gone this far already. Are you really going to let her live without knowing anything? Maybe if she knew, she’d finally agree to divorce your father.”

A bitter smile tugged at Rafah’s lips.

“You think I don’t want them to divorce?” She let out a hollow laugh. “But how exactly do you expect me to tell her? Should I say that after my father got my kindergarten teacher pregnant all those years ago, fifteen years later he took a woman the same age as his daughter as his wife and had another child?”

“Rafah… the child has nothing to do with this.”

“I know,” Rafah replied sharply, her voice shaking. “But I can’t stop myself from hating him.”

Silence settled over the table.

Arin looked at her friend with deep sympathy, searching for words that never came.

Rafah lowered her head. Her lashes trembled, hiding eyes on the verge of breaking. The hand resting in her lap clenched slowly into a fist, nails digging into her palm as if pain were the only thing keeping her grounded.

Then she lifted her head and forced a fragile, brittle smile.

“Tell me, Arin…”

Her voice was faint, almost shattered.

“If you were me, how would you feel? Having a younger brother born from your father and your closest friend from college… the person I once trusted more than anyone else?”

…

The next morning.

Today was Petra’s first official day working with the Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation. She had a scheduled meeting with Rafah later that afternoon.

Petra leaned against the balcony railing of her high rise condo near the BTS line. The morning breeze drifted past, carrying soft sunlight that brushed lightly against her skin. She stretched lazily a few times before picking up her phone and making a video call, just as she did every morning.

The screen lit up with her mother’s smiling face. She was sitting in their old wooden kitchen, and somewhere nearby, the faint sound of a cat meowing could be heard.

“What are you doing, Mom?”

“I’m opening the new brand of wet food you ordered,” her mother replied. “Dim Sum is right here. He really loves this one. He cries for it every day.”

Dim Sum, the scruffy stray cat Petra had once rescued and left in her mother’s care, immediately popped into view and let out a loud meow.

Petra laughed.

“Then I’ll order more for him later.”

“Oh my, you’re spoiling him too much,” her mother teased. “These days he won’t even touch cheap cat food. He only eats the expensive stuff.”

“If he likes it, just let him eat it,” Petra said with a smile. “I’ll order more.”

Her mother laughed softly and lifted the cat closer to the camera.

“Dim Sum, have you thanked your sister Petra yet?”

Another meow answered, as if he understood. Petra burst into laughter.

The morning felt warm and familiar, filled with the quiet comfort of home.

“So when will you come back again?” her mother asked.

“Probably on Dad’s death anniversary,” Petra replied gently. “Things are really busy right now.”

“Work is hard, isn’t it?”

“A little, yeah.”

“I told you before, you should take the civil service exam and become a teacher like me,” her mother said. “The work is tough too, but at least it’s stable.”

“A kindergarten teacher like you?” Petra laughed. “You know I hate kids. I could never be a teacher.”

“But if you were a teacher, you might be able to transfer back to our province,” her mother reasoned. “With the job you have now, you’re stuck in Bangkok. There’s no stability at all.”

Petra shook her head, smiling.

“Oh, Mom. Is there really such a thing as stability? No job is truly stable. I’ve seen companies lay people off overnight. You’re in today, and gone tomorrow. Besides, someone without a teacher’s heart like me shouldn’t be a teacher. I’d feel sorry for the kids.”

“All right,” her mother sighed. “I won’t bring it up anymore.”

Petra grinned. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that.”

Their laughter mixed with the morning breeze, warmth flowing through the screen as if the distance between Bangkok and their hometown had nearly disappeared.

“Oh, do you remember Gukkai?” her mother asked. “She came back yesterday and brought her girlfriend with her. She’s very pretty.”

Petra frowned slightly.

“Which Gukkai? Don’t tell me it’s Aunt Thongkham’s kid, the one who used to bully me when we were little.”

Her mother laughed. “That’s the one. She brought her wedding invitation over yesterday. She’s getting married. To a woman, too.”

Petra froze for a moment before laughing out loud.

“Oh wow. I always thought Gukkai liked men. When we were kids, she loved teasing me, calling me a tomboy. I told her so many times that I wasn’t one. I just like women. And wearing T shirts doesn’t make someone a tomboy, does it?”

Her mother smiled gently.

“As for you, I only found out you liked women when you brought your girlfriend home.”

“She’s my ex now, Mom. Please keep up,” Petra said lightly. “I’m very single at the moment. Just waiting for a kind, beautiful older woman to flirt with me.”

“I already feel sorry for that poor woman,” her mother teased.

They laughed again, before her mother’s tone slowly turned more serious.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been retired for three or four years now. I live on my pension, just taking care of the cats and growing vegetables. I was thinking… if I help Aunt Thongkham’s family tap rubber trees, I could earn a little extra to help you with the house payments. The house still has many years left, and you’re paying rent in Bangkok too. Even with a special rate from Tharin’s father, it’s still a lot. If I can help a bit, you won’t have to struggle so much.”

Petra shook her head immediately.

“Tapping rubber trees is hard work, Mom. You’re already in your sixties. I don’t want you doing something that exhausting.”

“But I can still manage,” her mother insisted. “Your father used to do it on his own.”

The moment she heard the word father, Petra’s expression darkened. Her gaze dropped to the floor, as if staring at something far away.

Her father had been gone for many years, yet the loss still lingered, heavy and unresolved.

“No, Mom. I don’t want to lose you too because of hard work,” Petra said quietly.

Her voice trembled, despite her effort to keep it steady.

“Petra…” her mother called softly.

Petra swallowed hard, forcing the emotions back down.

“I’ll talk to you later, Mom. I need to get ready for work.”

The call ended.

Silence settled around her.

…

At last, the scheduled meeting with Rafah arrived.

Inside the office of the Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation, afternoon sunlight poured through the floor to ceiling glass walls. Rafah sat behind her desk with one leg crossed over the other, composed and unreadable, while Petra sat opposite her and opened the laptop she had prepared. A presentation slide appeared on the large monitor connected to her screen.

“Based on the plan I’ve outlined,” Petra began, “the interview content should be divided into three parts.”

She clicked to the next slide.

“In the first section, we’ll focus on raising awareness about wildlife conservation. We’ll address poaching, declining animal populations, and how these issues ultimately affect humans as well.”

She continued without hesitation.

“The second part will introduce the Suphakiat Wildlife Foundation and your role, Khun Rafah, as Director of International Strategic Communications.”

“And in the final section, we’ll present case studies of wildlife the foundation has helped, supported by visuals, to strengthen the impact of the article.”

Rafah nodded thoughtfully, then shifted her gaze from the screen to Petra.

“I agree with your overall structure,” she said. “But I’d like to add video interviews alongside the written piece and release them across all major platforms. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. We can tailor the format and length to each platform.”

Petra frowned at once.

“But that significantly expands the scope from what we originally discussed,” she said. “When we agreed to this project, it was strictly a written article. If we add video production, I won’t be able to handle everything on my own.”

Rafah met her gaze calmly.

“You won’t have to,” she replied. “I’ll have Anya arrange a production team. You’ll oversee the project as a whole.”

In the end, the discussion concluded smoothly.

Throughout the hours they spent working, Rafah remained professional. She did not pry, did not cross boundaries, and did not attempt any unnecessary closeness. Petra assumed it was the result of their conversation in the car that day. She had been clear that she was only willing to give Rafah a chance in matters of work.

And Rafah had respected that. At least in her actions.

“All work scope will follow what we discussed today,” Petra said, summarizing in the most professional tone she could manage. “I’ll send the interview questions tonight through Khun Anya. I’ll also coordinate the production details with her directly.”

“All right,” Rafah replied simply.

Petra nodded and stood.

“If that’s everything for today, I’ll take my leave.”

She packed her things quickly, like someone eager to put distance between herself and the room. Rafah noticed every movement. It was clear that Petra had built a wall and was determined to keep it standing.

Just as Petra reached the door, Rafah spoke from behind her.

“I haven’t eaten anything today. If I had someone to have dinner with… that would be nice.”

Petra paused and slowly turned around.

Rafah’s gaze had softened in a way Petra did not expect. It was no longer the look of a hunter from that night, but something quieter, almost restrained. Still, Petra chose the safest response.

“Your assistant, Khun Anya, should be free,” she said. “You could ask her.”

“I don’t want to have dinner with Anya.”

Petra turned fully to face her this time, meeting Rafah’s eyes head on. Her voice was steady and serious.

“You want to have dinner with me. Is that what you’re saying?”

Rafah fell silent for a moment, then let out a small sigh, as if acknowledging the truth she could not deny. She was not someone who explained herself unnecessarily, and even less someone who asked. But now, she seemed to be lowering her pride, trying in earnest.

“I just want to get to know you again,” Rafah said quietly. “At least as coworkers.”

Petra raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She neither agreed nor refused outright. Instead, she spoke with a tone that was half teasing, half a careful test.

“Then you should try asking properly, Khun Rafah.”

“Petra…”

Rafah hesitated, then finally gave in.

“Please have dinner with me, Petra,” she said. “At the very least… you might make my dinner taste better.”

The request was unexpectedly direct, stripped of games or dominance.

Petra studied the woman in front of her and saw it clearly. This Rafah was no longer trying to control or conquer with power.

Perhaps…

This could be the beginning of something new between them.

…