Single dad Arthit has always known Kongpob, a regular at his cafe, as a player. The latter brings in different partners every month and Arthit swears he'll stay away from him for good. However, life seems to have a different plan for him when Puimek...
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"Sawasdee krab, I'm here for—" says Arthit, pushing the door open hastily to see his daughter already standing in front of the entrance with a young woman, waiting for his arrival. Striding forward, he quickly places a hand on Puimek's forehead to check for her temperature. It does seem like she's having a high fever.
"Ah, sawasdee kha, Khun Arthit," greets May, the caretaker. "Sorry for calling you over in such short notice."
Arthit nods understandingly.
"I'm fine, papa." The little girl smiles up at her father weakly, her cheeks flushed. "What about your work?"
"Don't worry about it. We're almost done for the day anyway," says Arthit, kneeling in front of the girl and her eyes instantly crinkle up with joy.
"Khun Arthit," says May, pulling both father and daughter out of their mini conversation. The man straightens his back and turns his attention back to her. "Here. I've searched for all the clinics nearby that are still open. Apparently, these are the only two that's available right now."
"Okay. Thanks," mutters Arthit, taking the piece of paper with contacts and addresses written on it, grateful that the caretaker has helped save him a great amount of time in looking for clinics at such a late hour.
"It's a bit far without a car though," says May, caressing Puimek's hair gently. "Also, I'm very sorry but if Puimek still has a fever tomorrow, we won't be able to take her in."
The father tips his head again at the apologetic look of the caretaker. "I understand. Let's go Puimek," he says with a small smile, stepping closer to grab the little girl, collecting her tiny body in his arms. Puimek naturally circles her arms around the father's neck, burying her face into his shoulder, high heat radiating from her pores.
Arthit has a worried look on his face as he leaves the daycare centre, debating internally if he should just abandon his bike there and hail a taxi. Looking at Puimek's weak condition, it seems like taking the taxi will be a better option.
What should I do tomorrow? the question arises in his mind, looming above his head like a dark cloud. Sure, it won't be a problem to park his bike there and get to work by public transport tomorrow. The problem is, what if Puimek doesn't recover by tomorrow?
He can't afford to skip work, now that his boss is on medical leave. There are no other staff that can take over his job. Knowing Tutah, he probably doesn't even know how to grind coffee beans, for heaven's sake. The patisserie chef must be weeping inwardly right now, trying his hands at handling the shop front when he's usually baking and kneading doughs in the back.
