When the office door closed and Jinna’s figure disappeared from sight, Ploy Napphan sank into her expensive leather chair. It felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing her temples, amplifying the pain of the migraine that had been building since the morning.
Her eyes, fixed on the graphs and numbers filling her computer screen, seemed to add fuel to the flames of her suffering.
With trembling hands, Ploy Napphan picked up her phone. Her slender fingers dialed the number of Nipa, her trusted secretary. It wasn’t long before Nipa’s cheerful voice came through the line.
[Yes, Ms. Ploy.]
She said brightly.
“Do I have any other tasks today, Nipa?”
Ploy Napphan asked in a hoarse voice.
[None, Ms. Ploy.]
Nipa replied.
“Then I’ll leave early,”
Ploy Napphan said before ending the call.
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself and ease her headache, but it didn’t help. With a deep sigh, she stood up, grabbed her bag and car keys, and slowly walked out of her office.
The afternoon sunlight poured into her luxury car as she drove away from the company, heading toward her private condominium. She drove carefully, doing her best to stay focused despite the sharp pain in her head.
When she arrived at her condo, Ploy Napphan almost crawled into her apartment. She tossed her bag carelessly onto the sofa and staggered toward her bedroom.
Collapsing onto the soft bed, her breathing was uneven. The pain overwhelmed her completely. Curled up on the bed, tears streamed down her cheeks without her realizing it.
For the first time, she felt completely alone and weak.
Eventually, her exhaustion and the intense pain began to make her feel faint. But before she could fully drift off, her phone rang. It was a call from the one person she wanted by her side the most.
The ringing phone pulled her back to reality. With trembling hands, she picked it up and held it to her ear. The bright light from the screen made her squint, but the name “Fan Jam” appeared clearly.
“Sweetheart … come here, please,”
Ploy Napphan answered, her voice weak and hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Fan Jam was alarmed the moment she heard her.
[Are you okay? You don’t sound good at all.]
She said, her concern clear.
“My head… it hurts. A lot,”
Ploy Napphan replied faintly.
[Where are you?]
Fan Jam asked.
“My condo…”
[Could you hold on?]
Fan Jam asked with deep worry, but there was no response.
[Ploy...Ploy...?]
She called again, but there was only silence. Panic began to rise in her chest, her heart racing uncontrollably with worry.
[I’ll be right there.]
Fan Jam said urgently before hanging up and running out of her room.
She quickly told the staff to help take care of the shop. Then she went straight to her car, start the engine and drove away immediately, heading to Ploy Napphan's condo. The tires quickly ground the road, as if reflecting the urgency in her heart.
