Filly sat in his car in the airport parking garage, the engine idling. He ignored the buzzing of his phone in the cupholder—likely Omar or Ivy asking where he'd disappeared to. He wasn't in the mood for their guilt-ridden post-gaming.
Then, a specific chime rang out. He grabbed the phone.
It was the photo of the clouds. He read her message twice, his chest tightening. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
He leaned his head back against the headrest, a jagged exhale escaping his lips. "I won't let them hurt you again," he whispered to the empty car.
He didn't see the calculation in the phrasing. He didn't see that she had just handed him a leash and made him believe it was a lifeline. He typed back a simple: "You'll never have to find out. Rest. I'm here."
He put the car in gear, his mind already spinning on how he could manage his business back here while making more frequent "trips" to Bangkok (I mean anyone would have thought of quitting their business and moving with the person they loved dearly). He had to be her anchor. He had to be.
After 12 long hours, the automatic doors of Suvarnabhumi Airport hissed open, and the heat hit them like a physical weight. It wasn't just the temperature; it was the humidity—thick, soup-like, and smelling faintly of jasmine, jet fuel, and charcoal smoke. They stood there for a moment, blinking against the midday glare, Jux's trench coat already feeling like a mistake.
To his left, a phalanx of taxi drivers in neon vests gestured toward their pink and yellow cars, their voices a melodic chorus of "Taxi, sir? Where you go?" Jux checked his watch—precisely on time. Theo on the other hand was clutched his tablet, stepped slightly ahead to scan the crowd of professional drivers and greeting parties.
"He should be right here," he said, his eyes darting between her phone and the sea of faces. "I coordinated with the producer's office. They promised their most reliable person for the Summit Week transition." "There," he pointed.
Standing near the exit was a man in a crisp black suit, holding a simple digital sign that read: MALAIKA JUX SLOANE
He wasn't just a driver. He had the disciplined posture of someone who handled high-value assets. As they approached, he offered a deep, respectful wai, his eyes remaining professionally neutral.
"Welcome to Bangkok, Mrs. Sloane," he said, his English accented but perfect. 'Excuse me,' she blurted a huge wide smile on her face. "My name is Somchai, he kept going not realizing his mistake. I am at your service for the duration of the Summit. The car is curbside, climate-controlled to your preference
"Thank you, Somchai," Jux said, his voice calm yet assertive. "It's a pleasure to finally be here." He was already sizing Somchai up, checking for leaks or weaknesses. "Oh You must be Mr Sloane, the husband,' he commented. Mmh Mmh he cleared his throat looking at Theo as if asking him if he passed the correct message across. Malaika didn't correct him, he just kept laughing.
'Somchai, they're not a couple. This is Malaika, the author and this is Jux Sloane the manager,' Theo made things right.
'Ooh woow I … I … I … sorry,' he stammered his head bowed down almost half way to the ground.
'It's okay,' she said still laughing. He didn't bother to raise his head, he must really have felt embarrassed. Malaika took a step closer to him, held his shoulder 'Mai bpen Rai,' she struggled. He slowly lifted himself up. 'You speak Thai?' he asked as he titled his head in shock.
'I had to google a few Thai basics,'
'You did your assignment. I can teach you though,' he said making her smile bigger and bigger. '…at a fee,' her smile instantly fedded away as another wave of her smile flashed back "Thank you, Somchai," her voice like honey. "I think we're going to get along just fine.He offered a smooth, practiced yet genuine smile that didn't overstep. He was exactly what she needed—a shadow who knew the city's secrets but kept his mouth shut.
Jux stepped forward, his presence a cold counterpoint to Malaika's warmth. "The bags are behind us. We need to be at the hotel, she needs to rest and prepare. I assume the route is secured?"
"The traffic is heavy, but I have a bypass through the Rama IV area," he replied, his tone professionally neutral as he ushered them into the leather-scented cool of the interior. "The Chairman has cleared the usual protocols. You are considered a guest of the highest priority."
As the door clicked shut, sealing them in a world of silent, refrigerated luxury, Malaika leaned back into the plush seat. She watched the sprawling neon labyrinth of Bangkok begin to rush past the tinted windows.
"The Imperial," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the city. "It sounds... substantial."
"It's more than substantial," Jux noted, already opening his laptop. "It's a fortress. And as of this moment, you're its most valuable asset," he made sure to remind her how big the deal they had landed was.
In the quiet of her new Bangkok study, she sat by the window, the city lights reflecting in her dark eyes. She looked like a portrait of soft melancholy. She dialed Ivy. It was 10:00 PM in Bangkok, which meant her friends would be into their second bottle of alcohol, drowning in guilt.
"Mishy,' she picked up on the first ring and put it on loud speaker. The six of them were relaxed watching a movie drinking wine. "Oh my god, you landed! Are you okay? Is the apartment cold? I've been worrying all day."
"It's a little lonely," she said, her voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable register. "Thank you for coming. It meant everything."
"We're so sorry. We really are," Anna sobbed.
"You don't have to be, I just overreacted" Malaika whispered, her face completely expressionless as she stared at her own reflection. "I just need some time to heal here. But I'll call you every week? I don't want to lose you again."
"Never. We are here," Belinda promised.
Malaika hung up, the "sad" smile vanishing instantly.
Filly was sitting in his darkened pub, the glow of his laptop the only light. He had spent the last hour looking at photos of Bangkok—the bustling markets, the crowded rivers. It felt so far away. So dangerous for someone as "gentle" as Malaika.
He'd seen the flashes of coldness in her the last time they were at her pub. The moments where her sweetness earlier at the airport felt like a practiced script. But as he looked at the "hero" text he'd sent her, he felt a wave of protective guilt.
"She's alone in a city that eats people alive," he thought.
He decided to let his suspicions slide. He wouldn't dig into the files she'd left behind. He wouldn't ask why she'd suddenly moved halfway across the world instead of a few states over. If she was playing a game, he'd rather be her pawn than her enemy. He wanted her to have her dream life, even if it was built on a foundation he didn't fully trust.
"Stay safe," he whispered, closing his laptop.
The next morning, she spent it on the balcony of her Sukhumvit penthouse, watching the sun rise over the Chao Phraya River, the gold leaf of distant temples catching the light. The golden Thai sun dipped below the horizon, painting the penthouse in shades of bruised purple and honey. She adjusted the camera angle, ensuring the background showed only the serene, minimalist decor of her new sanctuary.
"Mom?" her voice was a soft chime, the sound of a woman who had finally found her peace.
On the screen, her mother appeared, but she wasn't alone. A small, dark-haired child was perched on her lap, focused intently on a wooden puzzle. The girl didn't look up, her brow furrowed in a concentration that mirrored Malaika's own.
"Look who wanted to say hi," her mother whispered, smoothing the child's hair. Her expression didn't just soften; it transformed. The practiced "sweetness" she used for the world—for Ivy, Omar, and even Filly—melted into something terrifyingly genuine. A raw, protective light flickered in her eyes.
"Hi, sweet girl," she cooed, her voice trembling with a depth of emotion she had never shown anyone back home. "Are you helping Grandma with the big puzzles?"
The child let out a small, melodic hum of agreement but kept her eyes on the wooden pieces.
"She misses the 'Thailand lady' already."
She leaned closer to the screen, her gaze lingering on the child with a hungry, desperate sort of love. "Everything I'm doing—every move I make here—it's for you guys. Tell her that. Tell her Thailand land is building a castle."
"She's a happy child. Don't worry so much," her mother reassured her. "Just... stay safe in that big city."
"I am safe," She said, her voice dropping into a cool, steady tone. They talked for a few more minutes about mundane things—the weather in Bangkok, thechild's favorite new book—before the call ended.