Dask Till Down

Dask Till Dawn (Chapter 4)

Arisa Smith.

Thirty-two years old.

Licensed medical doctor.

University lecturer.

The youngest daughter of Alexander Smith.

And the little girl who had once chosen Nalin without hesitation.

Risa was looking at her phone as she walked into the living room.

"Papa, I left the documents you asked for on your desk. Also, the university moved my lecture schedule to Friday, so—"

She stopped.

Her eyes lifted.

And landed on Nalin.

For one brief second, something flickered across her face.

Surprise.

Pain.

Perhaps even relief.

Nalin couldn't tell.

She had spent years learning to read criminals, politicians, and dangerous men who lied for a living.

But somehow, reading the woman standing in front of her had become impossible.

"Risa," Nalin greeted softly.

The younger woman stared at her for another second.

Then she looked away.

"Papa, did you already eat?"

Alexander's eyebrows rose.

"Risa."

"Hmm?"

"Your sister is home."

"I can see that."

Her voice was calm.

Too calm.

Nalin's fingers tightened around the glass of water she was holding.

Alexander glanced between them.

"Don't you have anything to say to her?"

Risa finally looked at Nalin again.

"Welcome home."

Two words.

Polite.

Distant.

Completely devoid of the excitement Nalin remembered.

Then she turned toward the staircase.

"Risa."

Alexander's voice had become firmer.

She stopped.

"What?"

"Come here for a moment."

Risa sighed quietly before returning to the living room.

She stood several feet away from Nalin, maintaining a distance that felt absurd between two people who had once shared a bed, a bedroom, and nearly every secret they had.

Alexander frowned.

"Your sister has been gone for five years. The least you can do is sit down and talk to her."

Risa glanced at Nalin's bandaged side.

"Is she all right?"

Nalin opened her mouth.

But before she could answer, Risa continued.

"She should follow the doctor's instructions and avoid unnecessary movement. If the wound becomes swollen, red, or painful, she needs to be examined immediately."

Nalin stared at her.

That was it?

A medical assessment?

Not I missed you.

Not Why didn't you call me?

Not even Are you really home?

Just professional advice.

As if Nalin were a stranger who had happened to get injured.

Alexander looked exasperated.

"Risa, sweetheart—"

"I have work to finish, Papa."

She turned toward the stairs again.

Something in Nalin finally snapped.

"Wow."

Risa stopped.

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

"What?"

Nalin gave her a small, humorless smile.

"Nothing. I just forgot how warm your welcome could be."

The air in the room changed.

Alexander closed his eyes briefly.

Oh, God. Not tonight.

Risa's jaw tightened.

"And I forgot how easily you mistake everything for a joke."

Nalin's smile disappeared.

There it was.

The first real sign of emotion.

Anger.

Not indifference.

Anger was something she could understand.

At least it meant Risa still cared enough to feel something.

"Risa," Alexander warned.

But the younger woman was already looking at Nalin.

"You're home now. Congratulations."

She paused.

"Try not to disappear again."

Then she walked away.

Her heels clicked against the stairs until the sound faded into the upper floor.

Silence settled over the living room.

Nalin stared at the staircase.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

Then she lowered her gaze to her glass.

"Well," she murmured. "That went beautifully."

Alexander sat beside her.

"Anak..."

"It's fine, Papa."

"No, it isn't."

Nalin swallowed.

"She's angry. She has every right to be."

"She's been waiting for you."

The words caught Nalin off guard.

She looked at him.

"What?"

Alexander sighed.

"Do you think I didn't notice? Every time your name appeared on the news, she watched. Every time there was a report about an international operation, she checked whether your unit had been mentioned."

Nalin's expression changed.

"Papa..."

"She used to call me whenever you didn't answer your phone. She'd ask whether I had heard from you. Whether you were safe. Whether you were coming home."

He paused.

"And every time I told her you were busy, she'd say she understood."

Nalin looked down.

Alexander continued quietly.

"But understanding why someone leaves doesn't mean it stops hurting when they don't come back."

The words settled heavily between them.

Nalin remembered the promises.

I'll come home next month, Risa.

After this assignment.

When things settle down.

Soon, little princess.

She had said those words so many times that they had eventually become meaningless.

And Risa had waited.

Until waiting became humiliating.

Until hope became anger.

Until the little girl who once held her hand had learned how to live without reaching for it.

Nalin closed her eyes.

"I thought she would understand."

"She probably does."

"Then why—"

"Because she's your sister, Nalin. Not your commanding officer. She doesn't want another explanation for why you had to leave."

Alexander's voice softened.

"She wanted you to stay."

Nalin felt something twist painfully in her chest.

She had survived gunfire, explosions, and missions where one wrong decision could cost dozens of lives.

But sitting in her childhood home, listening to her father explain the pain she had caused someone she loved, she found herself completely defenseless.

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"I know."

"I never stopped thinking about her."

"I know that too."

Nalin looked toward the staircase.

"Does she hate me?"

Alexander was quiet for a moment.

Then he shook his head.

"No, anak."

He placed a hand over hers.

"If she hated you, she wouldn't be this angry."

Nalin let out a shaky breath.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not particularly."

She laughed weakly.

Alexander squeezed her hand.

"Give her time. And this time, Nalintra, don't just tell her you're staying."

He looked directly into her eyes.

"Show her."

Upstairs — Arisa's Bedroom

Risa closed her bedroom door.

She stood with her back against it, staring at the floor.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

Then she threw her handbag onto the bed.

"Unbelievable."

Her voice trembled.

She hated that.

Hated that five years later, Nalin could still make her feel like a little girl waiting by the window.

Hated that the moment she saw her sister sitting on the sofa, all the anger she'd carefully built over the years had nearly collapsed.

And most of all, she hated herself for the first thought that had crossed her mind.

She's home.

Nalin was home.

The woman she'd spent five years pretending she no longer missed.

The woman whose messages she had stopped answering because every reply made her hope for something that never came.

The woman who had once promised to attend her university graduation.

Who had promised to be there when she received her medical license.

Who had promised to come home for her birthday.

Who had promised so many things that Risa eventually learned to stop celebrating until she knew whether her sister would actually appear.

She walked toward her dresser.

A small wooden box sat beside the mirror.

Risa stared at it.

Then, reluctantly, she opened it.

Inside were photographs, old letters, and a faded friendship bracelet she'd made when she was eight.

She picked up one photograph.

Nalin was seventeen.

Risa was fourteen.

They were sitting in the garden, their shoulders pressed together, laughing at something outside the frame.

Risa remembered that day vividly.

Nalin had just received news that she had been accepted into a prestigious international training program.

She had been excited.

Terrified, too.

Risa had cried when she found out Nalin would be leaving the country.

And Nalin had knelt in front of her, holding both her hands.

I'll come back, Risa.

Promise?

Promise.

Risa stared at the photograph.

Her eyes burned.

"You're such a liar, Ate."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She wiped it away immediately.

"No."

Her voice hardened.

"Not anymore."

She placed the photograph back into the box and closed the lid.

Then she walked into the bathroom, washed her face, and stared at herself in the mirror.

The woman looking back at her was composed, successful, and independent.

She had built a life that didn't depend on anyone else.

She had earned her degrees.

She had obtained her medical license.

She had become a lecturer at one of Bangkok's respected universities.

She had learned to manage her responsibilities without waiting for Nalin to return.

So why did a single glimpse of that woman downstairs make her feel as though five years of progress had suddenly become meaningless?

Risa gripped the edge of the sink.

"Get over it, Arisa."

She took a deep breath.

"She's home. So what?"

But when she turned off the bathroom light, her gaze drifted toward the bedroom door.

For one foolish moment, she imagined Nalin standing on the other side.

Knocking softly.

Calling her name.

Asking whether she had missed her.

And Risa hated that she already knew what she would do.

She would open the door.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she wanted to punish Nalin for leaving, some part of her would always remember the girl who had held her hand on her first day of school.

The girl who had taught her how to ride a bicycle.

The girl who had stayed beside her during thunderstorms.

The girl who had once promised that no matter what happened, Risa would never have to face the world alone.

Risa pressed her lips together.

"Not this time."

She turned away from the door.

"This time, she can be the one who waits."

Back in the Living Room

Nalin sat quietly while the doctor reviewed her medication instructions.

She listened carefully, asked a few questions, and promised to return for a follow-up appointment.

Professionally, she was an excellent patient.

Personally, she was miserable.

Because every few minutes, her eyes drifted toward the staircase.

And every time she heard footsteps upstairs, her heart foolishly expected Risa to come down.

She didn't.

Eventually, the doctor left.

Alexander accompanied him to the entrance, leaving Nalin alone with her thoughts.

She leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

"Five years," she whispered.

Five years of telling herself that she was doing everything for her family.

Five years of believing that sending money, making occasional calls, and promising to return were enough.

She had been wrong.

Her phone vibrated.

A message from her commanding officer appeared.

CHIEF THOMAS: Medical leave starts immediately. No operational involvement until your clearance. Enjoy your time off, Raven.

Nalin stared at the message before locking her phone.

For once, she had no mission.

No assignment.

No excuse to leave.

She was going to stay in Bangkok.

And she had no idea how to repair the damage she'd done.

Her gaze moved toward the staircase one final time.

"Okay, little princess," she whispered, remembering the four-year-old who had once reached for her hand.

"You want me to wait?"

A faint smile touched her lips, though sadness remained in her eyes.

"Then I'll wait."

She had spent twenty-eight years chasing answers to the darkest night of her childhood.

She had crossed borders, dismantled criminal networks, and risked her life in pursuit of justice.

But perhaps the most difficult mission of her life wouldn't involve guns, enemies, or international conspiracies.

Perhaps it would begin right here.

In the house that had saved her.

With the woman who no longer wanted to speak to her.

And with a promise she would have to earn all over again.

Because this time, Nalintra Sutham wasn't going anywhere.

Not until the little girl who once chose her could look at her again and believe that she had finally come home.

To be continued...