Dara was on his way, riding a Tuk Tuk tricycle toward the SRS shop. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together everything that had happened.
As the Tuk Tuk pulled up to the shop, Dara caught sight of Sethya's white car leaving the parking lot. Panic set in as he quickly pulled out his phone, dialing Sethya's number. The line rang, but there was no answer.
He let out a frustrated sigh, realizing he had just missed him. Now, even at his shop, Sethya was nowhere to be found.
Dara felt a wave of frustration and anguish wash over him, but he forced himself to enter the shop. He approached one of the staff members, his voice tense.
"Where did Seth go?" he asked.
The staff hesitated before answering, "His mother called and told him to come home immediately."
Dara nodded to himself, the pieces falling into place. It must be like that, he thought. Without another word, he turned and decided to leave, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him even more.
As Dara stepped out through the mirrored door, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and saw his mother's name, Mrs. Saroath.
A heavy sigh escaped him as he stared at the phone, his heart sinking. He already felt a wave of sadness before he even answered. With a trembling hand, he swiped to pick up the call.
"Hello, Mom," he said softly, bracing himself for whatever was to come.
"Where are you?" His mother's voice came through the line, soft but filled with concern.
"Mom, I am…" Dara hesitated, his voice low.
"Where are you right now?" she pressed gently.
"I'm on the way!" he replied quickly.
"Okay. Come home," she said, her tone steady but caring.
"Yes, yes, Mom," Dara answered, his heart heavy.
"Be careful!" she added, a touch of worry in her words.
"I will," he said before the call ended, leaving him to his thoughts as he made his way home.
***
In a villa nestled within the city, Sethya sat before his parents, their faces dark with fury. His father, his black-and-white hair neatly combed back, glared at him with cold finality.
"Never show your face to me again if you can't resolve this case and end that foolish relationship," he spat, his voice sharp with disappointment.
Seth's chest tightened. He turned to his mother, searching for mercy in her gaze, but the elegant old lady, her classic gray bob framing an expression of quiet resolve, merely looked away.
A hollow ache settled in his heart. In that moment, he knew—he had lost all hope of saving his love.
***
In a modest flat on the southwest edge of the city, Dara sat across from his mother on their worn sofa. Her face was a mask of sorrow as she leaned forward, her voice trembling. "Why, Dara? Why did you do it? And hide it from me? How long has this been going on?"
Dara lowered his gaze, unable to find the words to respond. His silence hung heavy in the room. His mother pressed on, her voice breaking under the weight of her frustration.
"I've tried so hard to protect you," she said, her tone both pleading and accusatory.
"I fought for you to be recognized by your father, to have him accept you as his rightful son. I wanted you to have a place in his family, to secure your share of what's rightfully yours. But now..." Her voice faltered, the unspoken despair filling the space between them.
"I am just his mistress, Dara. You've always known that," she said, her voice trembling.
"Your father's family is respected, prominent in society. He has two daughters, but you—his only son—were his chance to secure his legacy. He's been working to make you his rightful heir, to bring you into the family properly. But now…"
She paused, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What can we do now? Tell me, why? Why did you choose to be with a man? You've made everything so much harder, Dara. You're ruining your life…"
Dara couldn't find the words to respond to his mother. Silent tears streamed down his face, unstoppable. Her voice trembled with insistence.
"You must beg your father's forgiveness, Dara, and sever ties with anyone—you have to."
Dara stunned, disbelief etched on his face. He shook his head slightly, his voice trembling with defiance.
"Why, Mom? Do I really have to beg him? His family has never respected you. We agreed to cut ties with him, didn't we? We've survived together this far... and we can keep going without him."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken pain of a fractured family.
"You're so naive, Dara!" his mother snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.
"Without his support, do you really think your life will be fine? And now, after that shameless mistake—after the footage has spread everywhere—what do you plan to do with your life if you don't seek his mercy? Tell me!" Her words hit like a storm, each one a blow to his fragile resolve.
Dara's expression hardened, his voice steady but resolute.
"I love him. We love each other. We'll face this together. The one who invaded our privacy, who spread that video, is the one to blame—not me. What's so wrong about love?"
His mother stood frozen, words failing her. The weight of his defiance deepened the ache in her chest, leaving her more tormented than before.
"You still haven't learned!" his mother cried out, exasperation spilling into her tone. "Oh my God, let's see how far you can go with this!"
Dara's heart sank at her disbelief, a quiet sadness clouding his gaze. He reached out, gently taking her hand.
"Mom," he said softly, his voice a tender plea, "please trust me. Don't let this upset you. I'm sorry for my carelessness, but I'll fix this—on my own. This is my problem."
He hesitated, his tone dropping to a murmur. "If it comes to it, I'll talk to Dad. But I don't want him dragged into this. It's a mess I have to clean up, not him."
Saroath's tense shoulders softened slightly as she heard her son agree to meet his father. A faint glimmer of relief flickered in her eyes.
"So, you will see your father, right?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes, Mom," Dara replied firmly.
"Okay," she nodded, her voice steadying. But then, almost pleading, she added,
"And... Please, if possible, end your relationship with him. I beg you, my son."
Dara's heart clenched at her words, but he stayed silent, the weight of her plea pressing down on him.
"I'll think about it, Mom," Dara said, his words a mere comfort to ease her mind. "And please, stay home for a few days. There's no need to go to the currency exchange shop."
"I know," she replied, her voice tinged with concern.
"I've also asked permission from work to sort this out," Dara added quickly.
"Okay, son. But tell me, who is he?" she asked, her gaze searching.
Dara hesitated for a moment before responding softly, "His name is Sethya. He's a clothes shop owner. I need to meet him soon."
***
In his bedroom, Dara sat on the chair beside his bed, anxiously dialing and sending messages to Seth. Yet, there was no response.
Hours slipped by, the silence thickening with each passing minute.
As dawn approached, still no word from Seth. The wait was becoming unbearable.