Guilty as Gorgeous | Chapter 6
The car pulled up at Wikrant's condominium less than half an hour later; the roads were fairly empty at this late hour. Phutphitchaya let out a sigh before stepping out, dreading a repeat of the same old scenes as she moved to join Wikrant and Watshon.
"Paan, you've driven all the way from upcountry and haven't eaten a thing. I'll whip up something simple while you two talk."
"You should just take me back to my condo instead," Watshon said, following them into the elevator with clear reluctance.
"Which condo? The one you let them seize when you sold your car?" Wikrant didn't mince words.
"I have a place to stay, alright?"
"You should just move your things in with me."
"You could stay at my house too," Phutphitchaya interjected quickly. Back when they were on good terms, Watshon used to drift in and out of her home as a regular guest.
"I don't like living off others."
"Wan and I have never seen you as a stray. But it's nearly 2 AM now..." The young woman pulled out her phone and held it out to the other, ignoring her cold expression. "Why don't you call Phi Lek about that job first?"
"I already told you my reasons for not taking it," Watshon said sharply.
"You already went for the casting. If you're going to refuse, you should tell Phi Lek directly, not just vanish like this."
"I probably wouldn't get the part anyway if a 'favorite' like you didn't pull some strings," Watshon voiced bitterly. It was common knowledge that Anima, or Phi Lek, favored this villain actress particularly, hiring her constantly and claiming to everyone that their destinies were intertwined.
"Phi Lek doesn't take referrals if she sees no potential," the listener explained calmly, ignoring the sarcasm. "You can't keep running forever, Fon. Rut wants to apologize to you, too."
"Apologize for tossing me aside on the day I needed him most?"
"He was new back then. Being threatened with the end of his career... it's only natural he was scared." Because anyone who dared challenge Manika had learned that lesson the hard way.
Combined with the erratic mood swings caused by Watshon's own psychological trauma—which she often took out on those around her—Sarut had suffered the brunt of it. Eventually, he walked away, unable to withstand the pressure coming from every direction.
'I know I shouldn't back out now, but it's been six months and Fon still hasn't moved on. The one looking after the patient can go mad too, Shanya. I'm so stressed I've been reprimanded by the elders countless times because I can't focus on work. If I stay like this, I'll be out of a job too. By then, we'd only hate each other. It's better to end it now.'
"He was right to choose his future, wasn't he? Now he's a superstar because he doesn't have me as a dead weight anymore."
"Others hurting your feelings isn't as bad as you sabotaging yourself," the other warned.
"I'm not lucky like you, Shanya—always having people to love and protect you. No one thinks I'm good anyway."
"You have people who love you too, but you choose to cut everyone off. What must I do for you to forgive me, Namfon?"
"Try experiencing what I went through. Try being a whore for Methas and those lecherous old moguls. Try being mobbed by insults and condemned until it feels like there's no place left on this earth to stand. Every time that pathetic psychiatrist teaches me how to start over, someone—anyone—always comes along to rip the wound back open until I have to drugged up just to forget how much it hurts. I'd love to see if the optimistic Shanya would still have the nerve to comfort herself the way she comforts others!"
The outburst was longer and more violent than ever, leaving Phutphitchaya pale.
"Namfon!" Wikrant protested in shock.
The speaker seemed to realize she had crossed a line, but she kept her chin up, refusing to offer an apology.
"You asked for it."
"It's alright. Maybe I deserve to be told off like that... instead of letting someone else suffer in my place. I just didn't think... you hated me this much." The young woman took a deep breath and turned to Wikrant. If she stayed, Watshon might refuse to stay. "I hope you can talk some sense into Namfon so she'll call Phi Lek. I'm heading home. See you Wednesday."
"I'll take Namfon to the room first, then I'll come down to see you to your car, Paan," Wikrant said as they exited the elevator, standing in the hallway of his suite.
"I can go by myself. I'm off."
Phutphitchaya forced a wan smile for her manager. With one last look at Watshon, the slender figure turned back to press the elevator button without looking at anyone else. Wikrant didn't dare hold her back, fearing Watshon would take offense and flee as well.
The small sports car parked in front of her house around 2:30 AM, met by a young girl who ran out with a beaming face to open the gate.
"I thought everyone was asleep. I could have opened it myself."
Phutphitchaya spoke as she rolled down the window, nodding to her younger sister who hopped into the car after closing the gate. She drove into the garage—a simple tile roof supported by six high pillars. The concrete floor showed its decades of age but was made pleasant by various climbing plants and flowers, much like the two-story white house itself. Its architecture was somewhat old-fashioned, featuring stairs connecting both floors and a breezy veranda at the front.
The house was surrounded by a fence on a plot of over two hundred square wah bordering the river. Large trees provided dense shade, with part of the land divided into a kitchen garden and her mother's nursery for dozens of auspicious plants.
The young woman looked up, inhaling the air of her small family world, which was more peaceful and cooling than anywhere else.
"Mai was up studying for exams. You're home so late, P'Paan. Mom thought you were staying with P'Wan." The speaker was a twenty-one-year-old girl, a final-year student at the Faculty of Commerce and Accountancy at a leading state university.
"Namfon is probably staying with Wan tonight."
"How is P'Fon? Is she still mad at you?" The younger sister asked with wide eyes, her brows furrowing when Phutphitchaya shook her head gloomily.
"It would probably be better if she at least accepted some help from us."
"You're not a villain or anything." The arched brows knotted; she had seen her older sister constantly trying to appease and compensate the other.
"She's unlucky because she tried to help me."
Suphanniga exhaled sharply. "But we're still not the ones in the wrong. P'Namfon should understand that."
"If it happened to us, it would be hard to understand, too. You're still young, don't talk too much."
"I'm not young. I'm about to be a graduate."
"Your last semester, isn't it? One more month and you're finished. Are you getting honors?" A white hand reached out to ruffle her sister's hair, changing the subject affectionately, even though she knew the girl was top of her class.
Dark eyes crinkled into a wide smile, her mood shifting instantly. "At my level? Of course I am."
"Boastful, aren't we?"
"A company has already reserved me, you know. Not joking."
"Which company?"
"A joint venture... a friend of Uncle Bancha, so he said." Suphanniga named a major multinational finance and investment firm as she hopped out of the car energetically, missing her sister's troubled expression.
"We shouldn't trouble him too much."
"I didn't trouble him. I just asked which companies had good performance and financial stability, and he told me..." The younger sister snatched the handbag to carry it herself, wrapping an arm around her elder sister as they walked into the house. "I hadn't even sent out my resume yet. Suddenly, the professor said that company asked to see the qualifications of graduating students and wanted to reserve me."
"And are you going to work for them?"
"Hoo! To work for a company with that kind of reputation? I'd be a fool not to!"
Phutphitchaya laughed, pulling the young girl into a firm embrace and kissing her forehead playfully.
Having lost their father in their teens, leaving only the four of them—mother and daughters—the three Sukonthi girls, each named after a flower like their mother Prayong, shared a bond of love and devotion rarely seen in any other family.