Dask Till Down

Dask Till Dawn (Chapter 3)

The Doctor's Verdict

Six hours later.

Nalin sat on the edge of a hospital bed, wearing a clean medical gown with a bandage wrapped around her torso.

Her expression suggested that she would rather be interrogating an international crime lord than listening to the doctor standing in front of her.

"You're fortunate the injury wasn't deeper," the doctor said.

Nalin glanced at the bandage.

"Can I return to duty?"

The doctor stared at her.

"Absolutely not."

"Doctor—"

"No."

"I have a mission scheduled next week."

"Then cancel it."

"I can't just cancel an assignment."

"You can when you're medically unfit to perform it."

Nalin sighed.

The doctor continued.

"You have a significant wound that requires proper healing. You also have bruising, exhaustion, and signs that you've been pushing your body beyond its limits."

"I'm accustomed to the job."

"That doesn't make you bulletproof, Agent Sutham."

Nalin said nothing.

"At least two weeks of rest. Possibly longer, depending on your recovery."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous."

"Would you prefer two months?"

She gave him a cold look.

The doctor folded his arms.

"You're an excellent agent. I'm sure you can understand the importance of following medical instructions."

Nalin leaned back against the pillow.

"I understand. I simply disagree."

"Your disagreement has been noted."

He walked toward the door before turning back.

"And before you ask, I've already submitted my recommendation to your commanding officer."

Nalin's eyes narrowed.

"You did what?"

"Rest well, Agent Raven."

The door closed.

She stared at it.

"Traitor."

Her phone vibrated on the bedside table.

A message from her chief appeared on the screen.

CHIEF THOMAS:

Medical leave approved. You're off critical assignments until you're cleared by the medical team.

Another message followed.

Go home, Nalin. That's an order.

Nalin stared at the screen for several seconds.

Then she exhaled.

Home.

She hadn't heard that word directed at her in years without immediately thinking about the Smith estate.

Bangkok.

Alexander Smith.

And the little girl who had once held her father's hand and pointed at a lonely seven-year-old.

Risa.

Nalin leaned back against the pillow.

Five years.

It had been five years since she'd last seen her adoptive father in person.

Five years of international assignments, classified operations, and countries whose names she sometimes struggled to remember after leaving them.

Five years of sending short messages, making occasional calls, and promising that she'd come home when things finally settled down.

But things never settled down.

There was always another mission.

Another criminal to apprehend.

Another government requesting her services.

And somewhere along the way, she had become so accustomed to leaving that she had forgotten how to return.

Her gaze drifted toward the hospital window.

Perhaps it was time.

Perhaps, for once, she could allow herself to be someone's daughter again.

She reached for her phone and opened her messages.

NALIN: Papa, I'm coming home.

The reply arrived almost immediately.

ALEXANDER: What?

Nalin smiled faintly.

NALIN: I'm on medical leave. I'll be in Bangkok tomorrow.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Then—

ALEXANDER: You're coming home?

NALIN: Yes, Papa.

The next message came with a voice call.

Nalin answered.

"Nalintra!"

She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear.

"Hello to you too, Papa."

"Are you all right? What happened? Why are you on medical leave? Are you injured?"

"One question at a time."

"Don't joke with me!"

"I'm fine."

"Your definition of fine is not the same as everyone else's!"

Nalin laughed quietly.

"I missed you too, Papa."

The other end fell silent.

When Alexander spoke again, his voice had softened.

"I missed you, anak."

For a moment, Nalin couldn't find the right words.

Then she whispered, "I'm coming home."

"I'll have the driver pick you up from the airport. And don't argue with me. I'll also arrange for a doctor to examine you the moment you arrive."

"Papa, I'm already being treated."

"I don't care. I'll get you the best doctor in Bangkok."

"That's unnecessary."

"You're my daughter. Nothing concerning your health is unnecessary."

Nalin closed her eyes.

There were very few people in the world who could make her feel seven years old again.

Alexander Smith was one of them.

"Okay, Papa."

"Good. And Nalin?"

"Yes?"

"Welcome home, anak."

For the first time that night, her smile reached her eyes.

"Thank you, Papa."

BANGKOK, THAILAND

Smith Estate — The Following Evening

The black luxury car rolled through the gates of the Smith estate.

Nalin watched the familiar property pass by the window.

The perfectly maintained gardens.

The enormous fountain.

The long driveway lined with trees.

The house that had once felt like an impossible dream.

Nothing seemed to have changed.

And yet, somehow, everything felt different.

She had left as a young woman eager to prove that she could survive without anyone's protection.

She was returning as an internationally wanted asset, a highly trained agent, and a woman who had learned that survival often came at a cost.

She glanced down at her bandaged side.

"Welcome home, Raven," she muttered sarcastically to herself.

The car stopped in front of the mansion.

Before the driver could open the door, the main entrance swung open.

Alexander Smith came rushing out.

"Nalin!"

She barely had time to stand before he pulled her into a careful but firm embrace.

"Papa—careful. I'm injured."

Alexander immediately released her.

"Oh, God. I'm sorry! Does it hurt? Should I call the doctor?"

Nalin chuckled.

"I'm okay."

He looked her over from head to toe.

Her face.

Her shoulders.

The slight stiffness in the way she stood.

The bandage hidden beneath her loose black shirt.

His expression darkened.

"You look thinner."

"Nice to see you too."

"I'm serious, anak."

"So am I."

Alexander shook his head before pulling her into another hug, this time more carefully.

"I can't believe you're finally home."

Nalin wrapped her arms around him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

She had missed this.

The familiar scent of his cologne.

The warmth of his embrace.

The feeling of being somewhere she didn't have to look over her shoulder every few seconds.

"Five years," Alexander murmured.

Nalin swallowed.

"I'm sorry, Papa."

He pulled back.

"For what?"

"For not coming home sooner."

Alexander studied her face.

"Do you know what I told myself every time you promised to come home and couldn't?"

Nalin shook her head.

"I told myself that my daughter was out there helping people who needed her. And that someday, when she was ready, she'd come back to the place where she was loved."

Her eyes lowered.

"Papa..."

"Don't apologize for doing what you believe is right. But don't forget that you have a family waiting for you, either."

Nalin nodded.

"I won't."

Alexander smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"Now, come inside. The doctor is waiting."

She groaned.

"Seriously?"

"Very seriously."

"Papa, I already saw a doctor in Europe."

"And now you'll see one here."

"You're impossible."

"And you're injured. So I win."

Nalin laughed.

For the first time in years, the sound came easily.

Alexander placed an arm around her shoulders and guided her inside.

He didn't notice the way she glanced toward the staircase.

Perhaps she was looking for someone.

Perhaps she was hoping someone would come running down the stairs, calling her name, just as she had done countless times during their childhood.

But the staircase remained empty.

And the house was strangely quiet.

Nalin frowned.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"Where's Risa?"

Alexander's smile faded slightly.

"She's at the university. She had classes today."

"Oh."

Nalin tried to make the word sound casual.

It didn't quite work.

"She knows I'm coming home, right?"

Alexander looked at her.

"Of course she knows."

"Did she say anything?"

He hesitated.

"She's been busy lately."

Nalin nodded slowly.

Right.

Busy.

She had expected that.

Risa was no longer the little girl who followed her around the house, tugged at her clothes, and demanded that they sleep in the same room whenever there was a thunderstorm.

She was thirty-two now.

An adult.

A university lecturer with a medical license, responsibilities, and a life of her own.

Of course she had changed.

Nalin understood that.

She really did.

Still, a small part of her had hoped that Risa might at least be waiting at the door.

Just once.

"Come on," Alexander said, interrupting her thoughts. "Let's get you checked before you start overthinking."

"I'm not overthinking."

"You're my daughter. I've known you for twenty-eight years."

"Unfortunately."

He laughed.

"There she is. My troublesome girl."

Nalin smiled.

But the moment she stepped farther into the house, she noticed a framed photograph on the console table.

It was old.

The picture showed two little girls sitting on the garden steps.

One had long black hair and a serious expression.

The other was grinning so widely that her eyes had almost disappeared.

Risa was leaning against Nalin's shoulder, holding up a peace sign.

Nalin stared at it.

She remembered that day.

Risa had been furious because Nalin was leaving for a school competition and couldn't take her along.

The four-year-old had cried for nearly an hour.

Then she'd demanded a photograph together.

So you'll remember me when you're gone, Ate!

Nalin had laughed.

I'm only going away for three days, Risa.

Still!

The memory made her chest ache.

She reached out and straightened the frame.

"You're still here," she whispered.

"Nalin?"

She turned.

Alexander was watching her.

She quickly withdrew her hand.

"Nothing, Papa."

He didn't press her.

But he knew his daughter well enough to recognize the sadness she was trying to hide.

And he knew that the next conversation she had with Risa might hurt more than any injury she'd sustained on the battlefield.

Because unlike the wounds on her body, the ones caused by the people she loved were much harder to treat.

The Little Girl Who No Longer Ran to Her

7:42 PM — Smith Estate

The front door opened.

"I'm home!"

A familiar voice echoed through the entrance.

Nalin, who had been sitting on the living room sofa while the doctor finished examining her, immediately lifted her head.

Her heart did something embarrassingly childish.

Risa.

She heard footsteps approaching.

Then a woman appeared in the doorway.

Tall.

Beautiful.

Long dark hair falling neatly over her shoulders.

She wore a cream-colored blouse tucked into tailored black trousers, with a designer handbag hanging from one arm.

Her makeup was understated, her earrings elegant, and her posture perfectly composed.

She looked like the kind of woman who could walk into a room without trying and still become the center of attention.

Arisa Smith.