"Report us for what? We didn't do anything. Got proof?"
Proof? Like I'd have any. The geckos in the classroom bolted in opposite directions—and I ran faster than any of them. Slippery little rascals. They never played nice with me.
If anyone ever found out I could grab a snake without blinking but ran from a gecko, Jao Pat, Jao Peem—or even their father—would never let me hear the end of it.
So stay calm, Tim. Stay calm.
"No, I don't. But I'm certain this was your doing."
"If you've got no proof, then don't accuse us. Or I'll report you to the police for defamation."
"That's enough, Patnarin. Has your dad never taught you basic manners? Especially when speaking to adults—teachers, no less. You don't talk back like this."
"Oh, come on, Teach. Why get all worked up? You're not even menopausal yet. Where's your stuff? We'll help carry it to the car."
What mood was this kid in now?
"No need. Because I'm absolutely not letting you ride home with me."
"Do you have to be so difficult? If we could get home by ourselves, we would've done it a long time ago." Jao Peem scowled at me.
"So what? You've got money, don't you? A taxi can't be that expensive. Or is your allowance not enough?"
"It's because the Minister doesn't want anyone to know we're his sons. You get it now, right… Mom—the wet nurse?" Jao Peem said it quietly, as if he didn't really want to say the words. Jao Pat's expression darkened beside him.
"Alright, alright. Go wait at the stone benches downstairs. I'll pack up my things and follow you."
The two brothers went down first. I was just about to gather my things and head after them when my phone rang—an unfamiliar number.
"Sawasdee ka?"
"It's me."
I recognized the voice instantly—just from that alone.
"Which 'me,' exactly?" I said sweetly. "I don't recall knowing anyone named 'me.'" Might as well get a little payback.
"It's me—your husband. Kawinthida's husband. Clear enough?"
Very clear. Though the way he said it felt condescending. Or was that his idea of respect—calling himself my husband just like that?
"Oh… then you must have the wrong number," I replied calmly. "I don't know anyone married to a woman named Kawinthida. By the way, what's your name?"
"I-Tim!" He sounded like he was about to lose his temper.
"I-Tim? That's such a cute name. I've never heard of a grown man with such an adorable name before. Now I'm curious—are you as cute as your name sounds?"
"Don't play word games with me. If you keep pretending not to understand, I swear you won't be sleeping peacefully tonight."
Well… fine. I give in.
You win, you perverted Minister.
"Then just say what you need, sir," I said flatly.
"When you speak to me, try being gentler. The way you talk makes me wonder how you were raised."
Wow. Every word hit hard—quiet, controlled, and straight to the gut. Where did he even dig those words up from?
"Yes, of course. How may I serve you, sir?"
"Don't call me 'sir.'"
"Well then, since you are—"
"Your husband!" Was that really necessary?
"Alright, alright. What do you need, my dear husband?" The words felt awkward on my tongue—what if someone overheard?
"From now on, you're in charge of dinner at the house. That means buying the ingredients yourself. I'll transfer the money after this call. As for the two boys, I'll talk to you about them privately this evening. Any questions?"
"What would you like to eat?"
"Don't ask a monk what he wants for alms."
"Well, you're not—ugh! Damn it, you're seriously getting on my nerves." The call cut off before I could finish.
Fine then. If asking isn't allowed, I'll just do whatever I see fit.