Chapter 13 Unpredictable

• Chapter 13 Unpredictable
• The office on the second floor was dominated by brown and black tones, giving it a somber atmosphere—one that oddly suited its owner. Ladapha entered and carefully placed the tray of refreshments on the desk. As she turned, her eyes caught sight of the bookshelf, and she couldn’t resist walking over to inspect it. The books were mostly collections of poetry, with a powerful presence of works by William Shakespeare.
• “The Tempest,” she murmured, excitement evident in her voice. It brought back memories of her school days when she had wanted to borrow the book from the library, only to find it unavailable. She had never bought it herself, worrying about the burden of moving with too many belongings during her frequent relocations.
• Her fingers hovered over the spines of the books, dabbing them but refraining from pulling any off the shelf.
• “Let it go, Chom,” Ladapha sighed to herself, attempting to shake off her longing. She turned to leave but startled with a soft gasp, “Oh!”
• Standing in the doorway was Yin Yue, silently watching her. His unreadable expression made her heart race.
• She forced a nervous smile, lowering her gaze, and shuffled sideways to make way. “I brought some refreshments,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
• Yin Yue remained silent, his demeanor calm yet impenetrable. Finally, he spoke as he moved to sit at his desk. “Phorngrampai will be leaving this evening. After Ayu has had dinner, see to it that he takes a bath. I have work to finish.”
• His tone was curt but not unkind. He didn’t spare her another glance, instead focusing on the documents he had begun to read.
• Ladapha nodded quickly and retreated without another word, descending to the ground floor where she found Ayu rubbing his eyes as he stumbled toward her, still half-asleep.
• “Papa…” Ayu murmured.
• Ladapha knelt down to meet him at eye level.
• “He’s upstairs in his office,” she whispered.
• The boy nodded and turned back toward the living room, content. Watching him, Ladapha couldn’t help but notice a certain coldness in Yin Yue’s demeanor. It didn’t seem natural—more like a deliberate effort to create distance from his son.
• What a relief I’m committed to staying single for life, she thought wryly.
• “Chom, dear, I need to head out now,” Phorngrampai called from the kitchen. “Make sure to reheat dinner when it’s time and set the table for Ayu.”
• “Yes, have a safe trip,” Ladapha replied with a polite smile, waving as Phorngrampai grabbed her bag and hurried out to catch her ride.
• Beep—Beep
• The sound of her alarm clock filled the room. But Ladapha didn’t want to get up. She hadn’t exerted herself this much in a long time. Who knew being a babysitter would be so physically demanding? She stretched as she sat up, then reluctantly climbed out of bed.
• After getting ready for the day, she made her way to Yin Yue’s house, arriving just before 6 a.m. The thought of having to prepare breakfast now added to her growing list of grievances. Why didn’t he just have her live in the house if the job was this demanding? Sure, the pay was good, but commuting was exhausting.
• Using the spare key, she let herself in and headed straight for the kitchen. She had 45 minutes to prepare breakfast before they both came downstairs.
• “All done,” Ladapha said, turning off the stove and letting out a sigh of relief. She moved to set the table, just as Yin Yue walked into the room. She looked around, expecting Ayu to follow behind him, but the little boy was nowhere in sight.
• “And Ayu...?” she asked, puzzled.
• “I have an early meeting today. You’ll need to take him to school. Here’s some money for the fare,” Yin Yue replied flatly, placing a small stack of bills on the table.
• What?!
• Ladapha was stunned. He was in such a rush that he couldn’t even take his son to school? If he was so busy, why didn’t he hire another driver? Someone as wealthy as him shouldn’t have this problem.
• “Uh... okay,” she muttered, her voice reluctant. She cleared the kitchen and headed upstairs, just as she heard the hum of a car engine disappearing out the gate.
• Reaching Ayu’s room, she knocked softly before opening the door. The little boy was still curled up under the covers.
• “Time to wake up, little one,” Ladapha called out gently, but Ayu didn’t stir. Concerned, she moved closer and dabbed his arm to nudge him awake. Her heart sank when she noticed his pale face, damp with sweat.
• “Oh no, you’re sick!” she exclaimed, alarmed.
• Trying to stay calm, she grabbed a cloth and dampened it to wipe Ayu’s face, but his condition prompted her to take him to the hospital immediately. She wasn’t confident in managing his care alone, especially if his condition worsened.
• At the hospital, as Ladapha sat anxiously in the waiting area, it dawned on her that she had no way to contact Yin Yue. Luckily, Phorngrampai called just then.
• The moment Ladapha picked up, she launched into a frantic explanation. “Phorngrampai, Ayu is sick! I brought him to the hospital, but I don’t have Mr. Peng’s phone number to inform him.”
• [Calm down, dear. I’ll call him for you. Just take care of Ayu in the meantime, okay?]
• “Thank you so much,” Ladapha said with relief.
• She hung up and returned to Ayu’s side, watching the small boy lying quietly on the hospital bed. Her heart ached at the sight.
• “Poor kid,” she murmured, brushing back his damp hair. She couldn’t help but think about how little attention his father seemed to give him.
• How could anyone overlook a sweet, affectionate child like this?
• “Ayu, how is he doing?”
• The moment Yin Yue stepped into the hospital room, his voice carried a tone of concern. He immediately approached his son, gently stroking the boy’s head. Guilt gnawed at him—he hadn’t been there last night to put Ayu to bed, and this morning, he’d been in such a rush that he hadn’t even checked on him. By the time he’d learned about Ayu’s condition from Phorngrampai after his meeting, hours had already passed.
• “His fever has gone down,” Ladapha replied softly.
• Yin Yue nodded, taking a seat beside Ayu’s bed. The weight of guilt pressed on him—work had consumed so much of his attention that he’d neglected his son.
• Ladapha observed his weary face and the unmistakable worry in his eyes, and her own concern began to ease. Initially, she’d assumed he didn’t care for his son, but that wasn’t true. It seemed his overwhelming workload left little room for anything else. Quietly, she excused herself from the room.
• Downstairs, Ladapha found a convenience store and a small food court in the hospital lobby. She bought two meals: one for herself, having skipped breakfast, and another for Yin Yue’s lunch. When she returned to the room, she found him fast asleep on the couch.
• Not wanting to disturb him, she quietly set the food down. Watching him sleep, she noticed how exhausted he looked—perhaps he hadn’t had a proper meal all day. Torn between leaving him be and waking him, Ladapha lingered, her eyes drawn to his serene face.
• Caught in her thoughts, she didn’t realize she was staring until Yin Yue stirred. She quickly averted her gaze, flustered, and when he opened his eyes, she hastily grabbed the lunchbox and approached him.
• “I thought you might not have eaten lunch yet, so I got this for you,” she said, extending the box toward him.
• Yin Yue glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
• “It’s fine. I’ll wait and eat dinner,” he replied flatly.
• “What? Are you crazy? You’ll end up fainting, and I can’t carry you to the hospital too!” Ladapha blurted out, immediately regretting her casual tone. She bit her lip, realizing she’d overstepped.
• “I’ll just leave it here. You can eat it whenever you’re hungry,” she said, placing the lunchbox down and grabbing her own.
• “Uh... would it be okay if I ate here?” she asked hesitantly. Ladapha knew it wasn’t ideal to ask, but she didn’t want to leave the room unattended in case Ayu woke up. Despite her experience dealing with clients, this was a completely different scenario, and she felt out of her depth.
• When she received no response, Ladapha assumed he wouldn’t answer. She picked up her lunchbox, ready to leave, but as she turned, she nearly dropped it in surprise. Yin Yue was suddenly standing right in front of her.
• Her wide eyes took in his features up close for the first time—his dark brown-black hair, sharp black eyes, defined lips, and oval-shaped face. Her heart skipped a beat, throwing her off balance.
• “Uh... do you want your lunch now?” she stammered, extending the box toward him.
• Yin Yue reached out and took the lunchbox, his movements deliberate.
• “Eat here. Join me,” he said calmly before walking back to the couch.
• Ladapha stood frozen, trying to process what had just happened. Watching him sit and quietly open his lunch, she felt an inexplicable warmth creeping into her chest.
• She lowered her gaze, unsure of this unfamiliar sensation. Something about him—his silence, his demeanor—was impossible to read, yet oddly familiar, as if she had known him for a long time.