The dining room was heavy with tension. The chandelier's golden glow highlighted every expression, every subtle shift in posture. Anamarija sat quietly, dignified yet alert, while the rest of the family tried to process the revelation that she was Somsak Phanprasit's daughter.
Malai's voice finally broke the silence, soft but curious:
"Half-sister?"
Chai's gaze was cold and sharp.
"Why didn't we know sooner?"
Chak's face remained calm, but there was a rare tenderness in his voice as he replied:
"Because I wanted to protect her first. I wanted her to feel comfortable before meeting all of you."
Malai softened slightly.
"You did the right thing, Chak."
Chak's mother froze. Her eyes widened.
"My husband... had a child with another woman?"
For a moment, I felt sorry for Chak's mother, trying to imagine how she must have been feeling in that moment.
She looked at Anamarija, searching for deceit, but slowly shook her head.
"Impossible."
Chak met her eyes firmly.
"On the outside, maybe. But inside... she is caring, understanding, and strong-willed. She has our family's traits."
The family fell silent. Chak's mother finally whispered, almost to herself,
"My husband once told me he met a girl who reminded him of his children..."
A guard, who had been standing nearby, approached at her command.
"Is this the girl he spoke of?" she asked.
"Yes, Madam. Only back then, she had longer hair," the guard replied. "I remember seeing her the first time in a lecture hall. Her gaze reminded me of Master Chak—the same sharp expression. When she tapped a classmate with papers, it reminded me of Master Chai. Her smile reminded me of Lady Malai. And when she shook hands with your husband, he said: 'She is like my children.'"
He looked at Anamarija and said to her:
"Miss, I've carried this truth for almost seven years. I think it's time you heard the whole truth."
"What truth?" Anamarija asked with a calm voice, but I felt that what he was about to say would change this family forever.
"When your father learned from the headmaster who you were, we went to your house the next day," he said.
Anamarija's eyes widened. She straightened in her chair, her calm voice cutting through the air.
"Excuse me... my father knew about me?"
The guard inclined his head, as though the answer was obvious.
"Of course he knew about you. He knew everything about you. And he told me I needed to protect you."
Gasps escaped from Malai and Chai, but it was their mother whose face turned to stone. She shook her head slowly, her voice trembling with outrage.
"This is impossible."
Anamarija's hands rested neatly in her lap, her posture steady. Her voice was calm, measured, yet it carried a sharp edge that cut through the silence.
"Who knew who I was?" she asked.
The guard didn't waver. His eyes held hers with quiet certainty.
"Only your parents, myself... and your headmaster."
A wave of shock moved through the table. Malai gasped softly, covering her mouth with trembling fingers. Chai's brows knit together, suspicion and confusion battling in his gaze.
Their mother's face grew paler by the second, as though the truth itself pressed the breath out of her chest.
Chak leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, though his eyes flickered briefly toward Anamarija, studying her calmness—so unlike the storm unraveling in everyone else.
The guard leaned forward, his voice steady but heavy with memory.
"Your mother opened the door. As soon as we stepped inside, she said, 'I knew you'd come. She told me what she felt when you shook her hand.'
Your father replied, 'I knew it.'
He asked her why she hadn't told him earlier. Your mother said that she wanted to protect both you from the truth of who you really are, and him from scandal. The Master said that you were his daughter, too. If he hadn't come to your school that day, he would never have known about you.
We sat down at the table. Your mother brought out pictures of you as a child. The Master studied every photo, unable to stop staring at how much you looked like him when you were a kid. Then he went to your room. On the bed was a diary. When he opened it and read the last entry, I saw tears in his eyes. He handed it to me, and when I read it, my throat tightened."
"What did it say?" Malai asked softly.
The guard looked at Anamarija with quiet respect.
Anamarija quietly replied:
"I write a diary to my father every day. I tell him everything that happened to me; every page was meant for him. That day, I wrote that when he held my hand, I felt something I couldn't explain. That I missed him and I loved him."
"Exactly," the guard continued. "He saw you had opened a bar of dark chocolate from him, and he smiled. Then your mother entered and told him, 'She loves you, even if she never met you until yesterday.'
Your father said he wanted to be a part of your life, even from the shadows. 'I want to be there,' he said.
So the three of us sat again, and your parents decided you would stay with your mother until you finished your studies. Only when the time was right would the truth come out. You would live half a year in Thailand, and half a year in Slovenia. He knew he had already lost almost seventeen years of your life, but he didn't want you to feel alone any longer."
"Before we went back to Bangkok, we wanted to see you one last time. Your classmates walked downstairs, but they were a little loud. When you came, you gave them a cold glare, and everyone quieted immediately. The Master said: 'Chak has a competitor.'"
The guard's voice softened.
"Your mother sent me pictures, recordings, even your writings every week. I gave them to him. He knew everything about your life—what you liked, what you hated."
Chai blinked, visibly shaken, but said nothing.
The guard went on.
"One day, he was in a meeting when the headmaster from Master Chai's school called him about a disciplinary warning. I was in the car with Master Chai when your headmaster called me to say you had also received a warning."
"I remember that," Chai said with pride. "Someone HMA called you. But when I asked you who, you said it was your friend, a teacher."
"You're right," the guard said. "And I was stunned. You and Mr. Chai received warnings on the very same day."
"I told your father immediately. We went to your school together."
Anamarija and Chai exchanged a surprised look.
"When we arrived at your school, you had just left the headmaster's office. You turned to him and said something we didn't understand. Later, the headmaster told us your words: 'Good luck finding my father. If you find him, tell him I want to talk to him.'"
I saw that Anamarija blushed faintly.
"When your father heard that, he whispered, 'I want to hug her.' He went after you, sat close behind you, and stayed there until you left. He wanted you to feel his presence even if you didn't recognize him.
Later, your mother joined us, and the headmaster explained everything. They both wanted to protect you. The headmaster knew who you truly were, where you belonged. And your father asked me to watch over you from the shadows."
"It was lucky I was there. Sometimes danger followed you. Once, on a school trip, you were standing on a pier with your friends. A boy came to you, said something, but you ignored him. You turned your back. He pushed you. You lost balance, your foot tangled in a net—you almost fell into the sea. I caught you at the last second. You fainted in my arms. I was scared for you. Your friends were shocked. I told them not to say who saved you, and they agreed."
"When you woke up, I watched you to make sure you were okay. I called the Master. When I told him, he was distraught. He wanted to fly to you immediately just to see if you were really safe."
The guard's eyes softened further.
"Sometimes, at night, when you were sleeping, he would sneak into your room. He'd watch you sleep in silence. Once, he stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head before leaving. In your sleep, you whispered, in your language, 'Dad.'
Your mother told him you had said 'Dad.' He had tears in his eyes. He held your hand and whispered, 'I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.'
He knew you loved dark chocolate like him. That's why, every time I returned to you, he gave me a box of chocolates for you. Your mother placed them in your room.
He knew everything about you, every small detail—just like I did. I followed you every day. And when I wasn't there, I still watched you. That bracelet on your wrist..."
Anamarija froze, her voice a whisper.
"Please... don't tell me..."
The guard nodded.
"It's not just a bracelet. It has a GPS inside. If anything ever happened to you, we would know. Every day, we knew when your school started, when it ended, when you took the bus. We knew everything. He was always there, even when you thought you were alone."
Malai finally broke down. Her voice trembled.
"Why? Why did she live a normal life—without guards, without the media—while we didn't?"
The guard sighed.
"Because when you were born, everyone knew. The media followed you everywhere. Guards were assigned to you from birth. But her... no one knew. She was hidden, free. At least for a while."
Chai flushed slightly; Malai crossed her arms, trying to stay composed.
The conversation shifted. Anamarija asked quietly, "So he knew about me all this time... why didn't anyone tell me?"
The guard's tone was respectful, almost careful.
"From the moment he learned you were his daughter, your father wanted you to have what all his children had: a driver, a personal bodyguard twenty-four hours a day, everything what you wanted. But your mother said no. She knew you would hate it. So he ordered me to protect you... from the shadows, so you would never know. They wanted you to finish your studies first before revealing the truth together."
Chai added quietly, almost reluctantly,
"It's true. Everyone knows us, everyone watches us. Except her."
"She wasn't living freely. She was protected, but secretly. She didn't know until now. Her country is different from Thailand."
Chak leaned forward. His voice was calm but unyielding:
"Tomorrow we have a press conference to reveal you. Starting tomorrow, that freedom ends. You will need to get used to this life."
Anamarija just nodded and looked at me with a little fear in her eyes.
The guard interjected, breaking the tension slightly: "She walks very fast. I think she and her best friend set a new record for walks—from her school to the bus station."
Chak's eyes twinkled.
"I noticed, when she challenged Samchai."
Anamarija looked up, a small, mischievous smile forming.
"I wanted to see if he would follow me. I started slow... then quick. And he did."
Malai raised an eyebrow.
"You tested him?"
Anamarija nodded.
"Yes. I wanted to know how far he would go."
Chak's expression softened slightly.
"I noticed. You weren't just walking—you were testing him. Like our father. He tested people's patience and loyalty; you did the same, perhaps without realizing it."
Anamarija smiled faintly, her eyes daring.
"Maybe I have some of his blood."
Chak's gaze shifted to Chai.
"And I also saw Chai in you. When you challenged him, you were fearless, unyielding—just like him."
Chai blinked in surprise.
"Really?"
Chak nodded, proud.
"Yes."
Malai sighed softly.
"Apparently, you really are part of this family."
Chai then asked, curious, "Did your teachers ever go easy on you because you're a Phanprasit?"
"Never," Anamarija replied calmly.
"Never gave you a better grade just because of your name?" Chai pressed.
"No. Never," she confirmed.
The guard spoke again, quietly, but with authority:
"In her school, only the headmaster knew who she really was. No one else. She never experienced anyone giving her a better grade just because she's a Phanprasit. But I think she wants a better grade in physics."
Anamarija smiled a little. "I never understood physics and mathematics."
The food began arriving on white porcelain plates with delicate golden patterns.
"What will you be drinking?" the waitress asked in Thai.
"White wine," Chak's mother answered.
"Rosé and sweet white wine," said Malai and her partner.
"Fruit cocktails, no alcohol," Chai and Tarn replied together.
"Lemon iced tea," Chak said evenly.
"I'll have coconut water with lime," I added.
Anamarija remained silent. I leaned closer to her.
"Tell her what you'd like to drink," I whispered.
"Water, please. But not too cold," she said softly, in English.
Chak gave a small nod toward the servants.
"For Anamarija, nothing spicy. And no seafood," he instructed.
The waitresses exchanged quick looks, then bowed in acknowledgment.
The waitresses gave polite bows and left.
Anamarija glanced at me nervously, then lowered her eyes to the dish in front of her. She leaned in again, her voice barely audible.
"What is this?"
"That's Miang Kham," I explained. "A small bite wrapped in a leaf—peanuts, roasted coconut, ginger, lime, and sweet tamarind sauce."
"Thank you," she whispered politely.
"Niran, how is it being Chak's secretary?" Malai asked suddenly, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
I knew what she really meant—our relationship.
"A little tiring," I replied smoothly. "I have to be available 24/7. Just the other night, he called me at 2 a.m. for some documents."
It was a lie. If I had spoken the truth, I would have told her that I was happy just to be with him.
Chak's mother now turned her gaze toward Anamarija.
"And how do you like Chak's condo?" she asked.
Anamarija froze for a split second, her eyes flickering toward me and then Chak. I could see it clearly—she had no idea which condo his mother was talking about. Neither did I.
Still, she didn't falter. Her voice was steady, calm.
"It's nice. I like its spaciousness... and it has a beautiful view of the city."
"Interesting," Chak's mother murmured. She sipped her wine, eyes narrowing slightly. "My son has quite a taste for art. I don't know if you noticed some of the pieces he has."
"I did notice," Anamarija replied carefully. "I especially like the one hanging above the fireplace."
"And what is painted on it?" his mother pressed.
"Mhm..." Anamarija paused, then said with quiet confidence:
"Flying birds. It's something unique."
Chak's mother tilted her head, scrutinizing her.
"Chak, I didn't know you had a new painting," she remarked, raising her glass and looking at him.
"I've had it for some time," Chak replied calmly, his expression unreadable.
"Niran," Chak's mother turned her attention back to me, "how much do you know about art?"
"I'd say I know quite a bit," I answered with a smile.
I lifted my glass of coconut water and took a sip. Inside, my thoughts were racing.
Chak never told me he had a condo.
The waitresses returned, this time carrying bowls of steaming Tom Kha Gai. The creamy aroma of coconut milk and lemongrass filled the air as they carefully set each bowl down.
I stirred my soup slowly, but Chak's voice cut through the soft clinking of spoons.
"Malai," he said suddenly, his tone sharp but casual, "how is Ton?"
Malai blinked, clearly caught off guard. She placed her spoon back down.
"He's fine," she replied, carefully neutral. "He can't wait for next weekend; he'll go to Chai and Tarn's."
"He's so cute when he wants something," said Tarn.
Malai looked at Anamarija and asked her, "What's your favorite dish?"
Anamarija looked at her and replied with a smile: "I like mashed potatoes and potica. Potica is made from dough and filled usually with walnuts. But we know more than 200 different fillings."
Her calmness unsettled me in a way. She wasn't defensive, wasn't nervous—just steady, as though every word she chose was measured and deliberate.
"Interesting," said Malai.
Chai leaned back, grinning.
"Well, you're definitely not Thai then, if you don't like spicy food. " he teased lightly, earning a small laugh from Tarn beside him.
But Anamarija only smiled faintly and returned to her soup, unbothered.
After the main course was finished, the servers returned with dessert—mango sticky rice, warm and fragrant, the sweet coconut cream glistening on top. I took a spoonful, letting the familiar taste melt on my tongue, but before I could fully enjoy it, Chak's mother's voice cut through the calm atmosphere.
"So, Niran," she asked, her eyes resting on me with curiosity, "do you know if Chak has a girlfriend?"
Her question made my chest tighten. For a second, I froze, my spoon hovering above the plate. I lowered it slowly and forced myself to answer.
"I... I don't know, Madam," I said quietly.
Inside, my heart whispered the truth I couldn't say aloud: I'm his boyfriend. I'm the one Chak kisses every day.
I dared not meet her eyes for long, but I felt the shift in the air as she turned her gaze to Chak.
"Chak, I have a surprise for you," she said, smiling.
"You'll get married, in one week," she told him firmly, as if announcing a decision rather than suggesting one.
I gripped my spoon tighter, keeping my face calm, though inside I burned with unspoken words.