Chapter 5 Marry you

Chapter 5 Marry you

“What is it?” Tharatchanan said sharply as soon as she answered the call.

[Are you not coming home tonight? It’s almost 10 p.m. Where are you? And what’s that annoying noise in the area?]

“I’m at a pub,” she replied flatly. “Feeling a bit stressed today. You lock up; don’t wait for me.”

Without waiting for a response, she hung up and turned her gaze to the vibrant lights and swaying crowd before her. The music pounded as people moved their hips and danced without care in the world. But not her. She simply sat there, sipping drink after drink, trying to drown the pain she knew alcohol couldn’t erase. Being alone only seemed to amplify her misery, pushing her closer to madness.

“Are you here alone?”

The deep voice of a man interrupted her thoughts, making Tharatchanan glance at him. She forced a faint, reluctant smile before replying curtly, “Yes.”

She immediately turned away, uninterested in further conversation, and continued sipping her drink. However, the man didn’t take the hint, sliding closer to her. She shot him a sideways glance and let out a tired sigh.

“I’m not in the mood today,” she said coldly. “Do yourself a favor and get lost before I lose my patience.”

The man frowned, clearly displeased by her rejection. Muttering under his breath, he got up and stalked off, leaving her alone once more. Tharatchanan sighed again, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down even harder.

Tharatchanan glanced briefly at the man before turning back to her drink, uninterested. Moments later, another man approached and took the seat beside her, ordering a drink.  

“Can I treat you to one?” he asked, turning to look at her.  

She turned to face him, studying his features for a moment. His soft smile complemented his heart-shaped face, dark brown hair, and striking black eyes. He had a tall frame, full lips, and a gentle demeanor.  

“No, thank you,” she replied curtly.  

“A tequila for her as well,” Sarunphat said to the bartender, flashing her a polite smile.  

“I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone,” Tharatchanan said, her tone sharp.  

“I know,” he replied quietly, his gaze lowering to the glass in his hand. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, and it was clear he wasn’t there for lighthearted fun, either. “I’m not, either. I just thought you seemed like you’ve had a rough day, too.”  

She raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing, sipping her whiskey.  

“When you care about someone and end up disappointed,” he continued, his voice soft and pained, “it hurts. Hurts so much you don’t think you’ll ever want to love anyone again.”  

Her eyes flicked back to him, his words striking a chord deep within her. Without a word, she raised her glass and drank.  

“Love is complicated, isn’t it?” he said after a moment, his tone calm but introspective.  

“Is that so?” Tharatchanan replied, glancing at him again. His features, soft yet striking, and his respectful demeanor stood in stark contrast to the more brash approaches she’d fended off earlier. Something about him made her feel a flicker of ease.  

“Well,” she said after a brief pause, “I suppose I won’t refuse your offer of friendship.”  

With that, she picked up the tequila he had ordered for her and downed it in one go, feeling a slight buzz settle in. She steadied herself, reminding herself not to overdo it.  

As they sat together, sipping their drinks, Sarunphat took the lead in keeping the conversation flowing. His calm and thoughtful words slowly drew her attention, and, for the first time in what felt like forever, her mind stopped looping back to Arthit.  

Perhaps being single again wasn’t so bad after all.  

Tharatchanan stirred, feeling the weight of an arm draped over her, and blinked repeatedly to clear her vision.

She quickly sat up, scanning the unfamiliar room, her hands flying to her head as if trying to piece together the fragments of what had happened. Pulling the blanket aside, she froze—her body was completely bare.

Her wide eyes darted to the man lying next to her, someone whose name she didn’t even know.

Sarunphat stirred at the movement, slowly opening his eyes. But when he saw the woman sitting next to him wrapped only in the blanket, his reaction was immediate.

“Wha—AHHH!” he screamed, his voice filled with shock.

Wait… shouldn’t she be the one screaming? Why was he shouting like that?

Tharatchanan turned to look at him, startled by his loud outburst. She was too stunned to react and could only let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Meanwhile, Sarunphat scrambled for something to cover himself, sliding out of the bed in a panic.

“You… what are you doing here?!” he asked, his voice trembling.

Tharatchanan sighed heavily, her hand still clutching her head. “I should be the one asking you! How did I end up here?”

Her memories of the night before were hazy. She remembered talking to him and feeling a connection, but how had things escalated to this? She couldn’t even recall leaving the pub.

This was madness. Had she lost her first time to this man—a stranger?

“My son, you haven’t come home in days—”

A middle-aged woman’s voice suddenly rang out as the door to the room opened. Both Tharatchanan and Sarunphat turned in unison, their expressions frozen in shock.

“Oh, my heavens!” the woman shrieked, clasping her hands in disbelief. “What in the world is going on here?!”

“Mom...” Sarunphat voice was barely audible, his embarrassment mounting as his mother stood in the doorway, taking in the scene she should never have witnessed. He avoided her gaze, turning his face away, while Tharatchanan pulled the blanket over her head in sheer humiliation. 

This is a nightmare! Did I seriously drink so much that I ended up like this?!

“It’s a misunderstanding...” Sarunphat mumbled, glancing briefly at his mother before quickly lowering his eyes again. 

“Get dressed and meet me in the living room,” she said, her tone sharp. Without waiting for a response, she closed the door behind her. 

Sarunphat sighed, shot Tharatchanan a glare, grabbed his clothes,

and vanished into the bathroom.

Left alone, Tharatchanan quickly collected her scattered clothes, got dressed, and tried to compose herself. She smoothed her hair, grabbed her bag, and cautiously cracked the door open. Peeking out, she saw the middle-aged woman sitting on a sofa nearby, her back turned. 

Hoping to avoid further confrontation, Tharatchanan tiptoed toward the door as quietly as possible. 

“You’re not leaving just yet,” the woman’s voice rang out, freezing her in place. 

Tharatchanan winced, turning slowly to face Sarunphat’s mother, who was now looking at her with a piercing, unreadable gaze. Swallowing hard, she offered a nervous smile and shuffled to sit on the farthest sofa. 

“What’s your name?” the woman asked, her eyes scanning Tharatchanan with scrutiny. 

“Tharatchanan… but you can call me Rak,” she answered hesitantly, her voice barely audible. “I swear, this was all a mistake. We were both drunk—it wasn’t intentional!” 

She raised her head slightly, trying to explain, fearing the older woman might think something of her. 

“How old are you?” 

“Thirty-two,” Tharatchanan replied, confused and uneasy. Before she could say more, Sarunphat emerged from the bathroom and sat on the opposite sofa. 

“Mom, seriously, this is just a misunderstanding—” he began, only to be cut off by a sharp smack on his arm. 

“A *misunderstanding*?!” she exclaimed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Turning her attention back to Tharatchanan, she asked, “You said your name is Rak, right?” 

Tharatchanan nodded silently. 

“Then marry my son.” 

“W-what?!” 

“Mom, what are you talking about?! Why would I marry her?” Sarunphat shot to his feet, glaring at Tharatchanan in frustration. Tharatchanan, equally stunned, stared at his mother, struggling to form a coherent response. 

“There’s no need for that!” Tharatchanan finally managed, her voice rising slightly. “I’m not taking this seriously, and besides—” 

“I *am* taking this seriously,” the woman interrupted, her voice firm. “People will gossip if they find out a woman stayed with a man in such a state. What do you think that’ll do to her reputation?” 

No one even knows about this! Can’t she just let me leave quietly?

“Mom, this is ridiculous!” Sarunphat protested. 

His mother stood abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “Fine. Don’t marry her. But if that’s your choice, don’t bother showing your face to me again.” 

It was a dictation that Sarunphat stunned, utterly at a loss for words. He knew all too well that if his mother issued such a firm declaration, she must already have a plan in mind. And if he dared to resist, it might not end well for him. 

“As for you, follow me,” Lapasrada commanded in a firm tone as she turned on her heel and walked out. A triumphant smile crept across her face. Initially, she had intended to take her son to meet a prospective bride again, but it seemed unnecessary now. 

For the longest time, she'd resigned herself to the thought that her precious son might never marry. She knew him better than anyone—he was neither fully masculine nor feminine, indifferent to women, and had never shown any interest in dating. His interactions were limited to close friends, and that wasn’t what she wanted for him! Her greatest fear was that her only heir might one day decide to change his preferences—either to become a woman or to fall for someone of the same sex. 

But now, this was an excellent opportunity! Moreover, this young woman seemed respectable; her manners and speech struck a chord with Lapasrada, even though her appearance was plain and unremarkable. Still, Lapasrada trusted her judgments, she could sense that this was the right person to become the daughter-in-law of the *Thanachayocha* family. 

Meanwhile, Tharatchanan could only rise to her feet and follow Lapasrada out. She pressed her hand against her forehead as if her head might explode. Marriage was something she'd always dreamed of, but to marry a man whose name she didn’t even know. 

What kind of madness is this!?