The news of Jack and June's official relationship sent a ripple through the company—but most of all, through Aran himself.
He stood in his office, back to the door, staring out the window as if the Bangkok skyline could make sense of the storm inside his chest. He wasn't supposed to feel this relieved. It made no sense. Jack and June were his talents, both hard-working, dedicated, respectful. Them being together was harmless.
But it wasn't harmless.
Because for days, Aran had burned with something unnameable every time he saw Kanya smile at Jack. Every time her laugh rang through the halls and wasn't for him. Every time she walked past him, professional and poised, without sparing him a second glance.
It was infuriating.
And now? He was relieved she wasn't dating Jack? Why did that matter? Why did he confess to her being jealous? So many why?
He didn't have an answer.
Meanwhile, Kanya sat at her desk, tapping away at her laptop, her eyes flicking occasionally to her planner. Her to-do list was half-completed, meetings scheduled, media plans rolling. Her team admired her ability to stay so poised even under pressure. That was the thing about Kanya—when she worked, she was a force.
Sharp. Efficient. No-nonsense.
A queen in heels and fire in her voice.
And yet, the queen wasn't as calm as she looked.
Because Aran had gone cold again.
No teasing.
No arguments.
No late-night banter when they both worked late and found themselves in the pantry together, coffee mugs in hand.
He was back to being the distant, cold CEO. And it made Kanya feel like she was hallucinating everything—the jealousy, the confession, the vulnerability. Maybe she had imagined it. Maybe her brain wanted closure so badly it created scenes of him being human.
She sighed, pulled out her phone, and just as she was about to message Korn about the press kit delay, her screen lit up with a new message.
Unknown Number:"It's your aunt. Come home this weekend. We need to talk about your father's health. No excuses."
Kanya froze. The air thickened.
Her father. The man who once screamed at her for being a model. Who threw her photos in the trash. Who pretended she didn't exist when she left for New York. That man was now the subject of 'family concern.'
She clenched her jaw.
"I don't have time for this bullshit" she muttered.
Still, the message haunted her.
That night, Aran sat alone in the conference room, late again. The lights were dim, papers strewn across the table, a cold cup of coffee by his elbow. He heard her voice before he saw her.
Kanya was arguing with someone over the phone in the hallway.
"No, I don't care if he's sick. He didn't care when I cried every night. Don't guilt me now."
Pause.
"...I'll think about it. But don't expect me to forgive easily."
When she ended the call and stepped in to grab her laptop charger, she froze.
He was watching her.
"What?" she snapped, irritated.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, shocking her.
"I'm fine" she lied.
"You're lying."
"You're imagining things."
Silence. The tension pulled tight like a bowstring.
He stood.
"You're doing too much" he said. "Working overtime, running PR, keeping Jack and June sane—"
"And you're what? My therapist now?" she interrupted. "Don't pretend to care just because I hugged someone."
"I don't pretend."
"yeah you don't."
His lips parted. "I'm..... trying not to feel anything. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Her breath caught.
"No" she said, voice low. "I never wanted you to feel nothing. I wanted you to stop treating me like I was beneath you."
They stared at each other. The unsaid between them louder than ever.
Finally, Kanya turned away. "I've got work to do."
Aran didn't stop her. But his eyes stayed on her long after she left, filled with regret and longing.
Later that night, alone in her apartment, Kanya sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her aunt's message replaying in her mind. Her father. Her past. Her heartbreak. And now Aran, standing on the edge of being something more or nothing at all.
She didn't know what scared her more.
The ghosts of the past.
Or the possibility of the future.
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Kanya jolted awake, her breath shallow, her heart pounding in her chest. Cold sweat clung to her skin as the remnants of the dream lingered in the corners of her mind. The dream had been vivid, far too real. It was as if her mind had dragged her back to that time, to that house.
Her father's voice echoed in her ears, harsh and unforgiving.
"You're nothing but a disgrace! Don't you dare touch her, Kanya! Stay out of it!"
She had stood there, her hands trembling, holding her mother tightly as her father stormed around them. Kanya had always tried to protect her mother, to shield her from the rage her father so freely unleashed. But this time, his anger had turned on her. He had raised his hand, about to strike her, when her mother had cried out for him to stop.
It was a scene replayed far too many times in their house.
Her father's voice had seethed with contempt. "You think you can save her? Save yourself first, you selfish girl."
The sting of his words had pierced her heart, but the worst part was knowing he was right.....there was nothing she could do. Nothing that could break them free from this never-ending cycle of torment.
Kanya had always carried the guilt of it.....the guilt of not being able to protect her mother fully, of not being enough to make her father stop. And now, five years later, she realized that it wasn't just her mother who had suffered. It had been her, too. In more ways than one.
She wiped her tears away, sitting up in bed, her body trembling. The echoes of that memory clawed at her chest, but she was no longer that scared girl, trapped in a cycle of abuse and helplessness. No. She was stronger now.
Enough was enough.
Her gaze flickered to the nightstand, where her phone sat, untouched. She hadn't talked to her family in months. They had all assumed that she was just too busy with work, but in reality, she had been running away from the truth, the truth that they were the ones she had tried to escape for so long. But now, it was time to face them.
It was time to end this.
The tension, the suffocating memories....it was time to confront her family, even if it meant walking into the lion's den.
With a deep breath, Kanya stood up, her resolve solidifying. She would leave this behind, no more running, no more hiding. She grabbed her bag and headed out of her apartment, determined.
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Meanwhile, across town, Aran sat at his desk, his fingers absently tracing the edge of a paper as he tried to focus on the work in front of him. Korn had just left his office after a brief discussion about Jack and June's photoshoot schedule for the upcoming week. As he closed the door, Aran's thoughts began to wander, and something about the whole situation nagged at him.
They had gone to the photoshoot, but why did Korn mention someone else had gone with them?
His eyebrows furrowed. Who?
He replayed the conversation in his mind.
"Kanya took an urgent leave to go to her family," Korn had said, her voice neutral as always.
Kanya…?
His thoughts sharpened. He hadn't seen her for the past few days, not since their last confrontation. But this felt different. His mind raced with uneasy thoughts, and the unsettled feeling in his gut refused to let go.
Without a second thought, he stood up abruptly, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. His instincts were kicking in, something didn't feel right.
So he did what he felt was right.....
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The living room was dimly lit, a faint smell of incense lingering in the air. The curtains hadn't changed, nor had the oppressive energy. Kanya stood in the center like a storm barely contained, arms folded, eyes cold.
Her mother sat silently, sipping tea she hadn't tasted, glancing up now and then at the large portrait of her son .... the only member of the family Kanya had truly loved. His absence weighed in the room like a ghost.
"I'll say it again" her mother whispered, "Please, sit down, baby."
Kanya's jaw clenched. "Not until he shows his face."
As if summoned, her father entered — tall, with a face aged not by wisdom but bitterness. His eyes landed on her, and the tension crackled instantly.
"Didn't expect to see you again" he said dryly.
"Well, I didn't expect to waste my time in a place that once called itself a home" Kanya shot back.
He scoffed. "Still running your mouth like a loose woman."
She took a threatening step forward. "And you're still choking on your fragile masculinity."
"Watch your tone, girl."
"Why?" she snapped. "Because I speak louder than your cowardice?"
"You ungrateful—"
"Ungrateful? For what? For the trauma you gave me, or the bruises you left on my mother? For shaming me every time I defended her? For calling my strength disobedience?"
Her father's fists clenched. "You're shameless."
"No" Kanya spat. "You are. You, who did nothing while your son...my brother.....fought tooth and nail to protect the dignity you trampled. You who couldn't even look me in the eye during his funeral. You didn't raise him. Aran did."
At the mention of that name, his jaw ticked. "Don't bring him into this."
"Why not? Feeling insecure again?" Kanya tilted her head, eyes sharp. "He did what you couldn't. He honored your son, protected your wife, and unlike you.....he didn't try to sell his best friend's sister for business alliances."
Her mother flinched. "Kanya, please, don't—"
"No, Ma." Kanya didn't tear her eyes from him. "They called and told me you were ill. But seeing you now, still yelling, still spewing garbage, I see it was a lie."
"You think being away made you better?" her father growled. "You think you're someone now?"
"I am someone. Someone you don't control. Someone who doesn't kneel when you say 'honor' like it's a damn curse."
"You'll do as I say" he barked. "You're getting married."
"To who? The son of that sleazy bastard you've been sucking up to?"
"You will marry, and you will behave, or I will—"
"Throw something again?" she interrupted coolly. "Break a table? Scream at Ma like you always do?"
His hand reached for the paperweight on the coffee table, fury boiling over.
But just as he raised it—before her mother could even gasp—someone else was already there.
Aran.
He shoved the door open, walked straight into the chaos like he belonged there—because once upon a time, he did.
Tall, sharp in a suit, but with eyes blazing, Aran didn't hesitate. He stepped in front of Kanya as the paperweight clattered to the floor.
Her father froze.
"Don't you dare" Aran said, voice low but lethal. "Touch her, and I swear to God—"
"What the hell are you doing here?" the older man snapped.
"What you never did!" Aran growled. "Kanya didn't come here to be abused. And you know exactly what she's endured."
"You think you can lecture me in my own house?" he spat. "You're the one who refused the marriage proposal years ago. You had a chance to make her respectable and you walked away."
Aran blinked. "Would you have sold her to me too?"
Kanya's father smirked. "Why not? You were family. And richer."
Kanya hissed. "You don't get to decide who I marry."
"You're still my daughter!"
"No" she said sharply, "I'm the daughter of the woman you beat into silence. I'm the sister of the son who made this house worth living in. You are just the sperm donor. And now, not even that."
Her father turned red with rage.
Her mother cried out, "Enough, both of you, please!"
But it was Aran who took Kanya's hand and stepped closer to her side, not letting go.
"She's not going to be your pawn anymore" he said, gaze locked with the man who once welcomed him into this house. "Try me."
Her father shook his head. "You don't belong here anymore."
They ignored his presence like he was spinach in front of fries.
Kanya looked at her mother. Her gaze softened for a moment. "I'll call you. But I'm not staying in this toxic pit anymore. I would have asked you to come with me but I know your answer."
Her mother only nodded through her tears, too used to her silence to argue.
She turned and walked out with Aran.
This time, she didn't look back.