Autumn is a second spring

118. Words

Sammy cursed under her breath, glaring out the cab window like it had personally wronged her. She shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, one hand absently resting on her very obvious pregnant belly. Of all days for her car to break down, it had to be today. One minute she had been ready to set off, the next the engine sputtered and died, forcing her to wait half an hour just to find a cab—half an hour of chewing her nails and replaying the same worry over and over in her head.

She could barely sit still. Every traffic light seemed to last a century, every inch forward a victory. The city's evening rush was merciless, crawling along at a snail's pace, and Sammy's patience was already hanging by a thread.

Her mind kept drifting to Prem. The last time she had seen him, he had been glowing—practically bouncing in his seat as he showed her the couple rings he had had custom-made for himself and Boun. She could still hear the excitement in his voice, see the sparkle in his eyes as he talked about his plan to propose. That image felt like a cruel contrast now. 

Even if Prem claimed he was "fine," there was no way he would been unaffected by watching Boun get down on one knee for James—even if it was supposedly a fake proposal.

She clenched her jaw. Fine? No. Prem might put on a smile, but she knew better.

And it wasn't just Prem she was worried about. Fluke was on her mind too. He had always been the kind of person who locked his feelings away, sealing them behind a calm expression and a polite laugh. Always more concerned about keeping others comfortable than admitting when he was hurting. If someone like him had cut off nearly every person close to him, there had to be a reason—one big enough to break him.

She suspected that if he hadn't literally run into Ohm at the hospital, he wouldn't have reached out to anyone at all. That thought alone unsettled her.

The cab jerked to a stop in front of an enormous, gated entrance. Sammy leaned forward. "Why are we stopping? This isn't the address I gave."

The driver glanced back at her. "Cabs can only go this far, Nong. Inside the gate is restricted—residents only."

Sammy let out a frustrated groan. Of course. Perfect. She opened the door with effort and swung her legs out, steadying herself. But as she stepped onto the pavement, relief washed over her—Ohm was there, waiting near the gate.

He approached with a polite smile and a small wave. "Let me take that," he said, gently pulling her handbag from her shoulder.

"Thank you kha Phi," she replied, matching his smile faintly. "Fluke sent you, didn't he?"

His grin faltered into something awkward. "Uh... yeah. How did you know?"

She shrugged. "Obvious."

"Oh... right." He scratched the back of his neck, then lifted his arm to show her the plaster cast strapped in a sling. "Sorry I didn't bring a car. Can't drive like this."

She waved off his apology. "It's fine. I could use the walk anyway." She supported her hip with her hands as she walked.

They made their way up the long driveway at an easy pace. She rested a hand at the small of her back, the late-day air warm but not unpleasant. Soon, the villa loomed ahead—grand, modern, almost intimidating in size.