Denied Love

05.A Dog That Guards Its Owner

As soon as Khemjira got home, she took the fever medicine from Kwanrin before hurrying straight to her bedroom. She collapsed onto her beloved bed, still in her work clothes, and fell into a deep sleep instantly.

Seeing this, Kwanrin went upstairs to check on her and helped change her into more comfortable sleepwear. It was clear that the young woman

wouldn’t be able to go back to work today. “What exactly is wrong with Khem?”

Praenarin stood with her arms crossed, looking at the peacefully sleeping woman on the bed with suspicion. She seemed sick, yet the moment she got home, she slept so soundly that Kwanrin had to put a cooling gel pad on her forehead later. Even then, she remained fast asleep.

“You might not know this, Miss Rin, but Khem has had a weak immune system since she was a child. If she doesn’t get enough rest, she ends up

like this—breaking out in rashes and vomiting. She already threw up once this morning before going to work, and I told her to take the day off, but she refused.”

“Oh? So does she need to go to the hospital?”

“She just needs proper rest, and she’ll recover on her own. No need to worry, Miss Rin.”

Praenarin frowned slightly, then turned to the young woman standing beside her and responded with a sharp tone.

“I’m not worried. Don’t think for a second that I care about your little lady.”

The younger woman lowered her head, unable to argue. Kwanrin might be a housekeeper like the others, but she was also Khemjira’s caretaker—not

someone who directly served Praenarin’s household. “Then why doesn’t your little lady get some sleep?” “Well, Khem has work to do.”

The caretaker couldn't outright say that her young lady ended up like this

because she had to work for Praenarin. So instead, she chose to phrase it in a way that would let the other woman figure it out on her own.

Hearing this, a tinge of guilt crept into Praenarin’s heart. She had only intended to push Khemjira to fall behind on her tasks and admit defeat. Who would have thought that Khemjira would stay up for two whole nights working? Did she think she was a vampire or something?

“Go take care of your other duties.”

Waving her hand dismissively, Praenarin waited for Kwanrin to leave

before sitting down beside the sleeping woman. She leaned in and smirked as she looked at the sickly face before her.

Back when Khemjira was in her senior year of high school, she had seemed so fragile and naive. How had she suddenly grown bold enough to

challenge her like this? Not only was she a trickster, but she was also stubborn enough to insist on marrying her.

Did she love her that much?

Thinking back to the past, when Khemjira used to pout with teary eyes, a small smile appeared on Praenarin’s lips. Back then, Khemjira had been so adorable—too much so to be bullied like this.

"If you don't want to be teased again, then stop chasing after me every morning. Call off the wedding. Got it?"

She murmured softly, careful not to wake the peacefully sleeping woman. However, she suddenly froze when she realized that, without thinking, she had been gently stroking Khemjira’s smooth cheek.

What was she doing? Was she feeling sorry for her?

She shook her head, pushing away the thought. Why would she feel sorry for someone as irritating as Khemjira? She deserved to be bullied. And if

she thought Praenarin would take pity on her and stop, she was dead wrong.

Once she recovered, Praenarin would continue assigning her endless work

—until Khemjira finally gave up on her own.

.

.

Khemjira had no idea how long she had been asleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes, still feeling a dull headache. She sat up, looking around her bedroom, only to find that it was already past three in the afternoon. The cooling gel on her forehead had been removed.

She glanced down at her clothes. It didn’t surprise her that someone had changed them—after all, Khwanrin was here. Khwanrin was the only one who ever took care of her like this.

What did surprise her, though, was seeing Praenarin leaning against the headboard, fast asleep beside her. A tablet rested on her lap, as if she had been working but had dozed off.

"Khun Rin, why are you sleeping here?"

Khemjira poked her on the shoulder a few times. Praenarin opened her eyes, immediately putting on a stern expression.

"I accidentally fell asleep. I had no intention of sleeping next to you in the first place."

"I didn't say anything about that,"

Khemjira replied, grinning. "But why are you in my room?"

"I just came to check on you. If you had died, I could have informed my father and called off the wedding."

Hearing that, Khemjira scratched her head and laughed. She crawled closer, staring at Praenarin's beautiful face with a triumphant look. She knew Praenarin cared about her.

How could someone who had once supported a child's dreams—enough for that child to achieve them—be truly heartless?

"If you’re watching over me this much, just admit you’re worried about your future wife,"

Khemjira teased.

Being this close, plus hearing Khemjira repeatedly call herself her "future wife," made Praenarin flustered. She quickly pushed Khemjira away and pretended not to be affected—though her reaction was suspiciously exaggerated.

"You're so talkative. Are you feeling better already, or do you just like arguing with me?"

"I'm feeling much better now."

"Next time, don't overwork yourself. You’ll only cause trouble for others."

"Then stop overloading me with work. If I die because of you, Uncle might not give you your inheritance,"

Khemjira quipped playfully. "You—!"

Praenarin raised her voice, frustrated by Khemjira’s sharp tongue. But the other woman only grinned mischievously, completely unfazed.

"Khem's going downstairs to get something to eat. If you want to stay, Khun Rin, go ahead. I don’t mind sharing my bedroom."

Khemjira got up from the bed, but the moment she stood, dizziness hit her. Her vision blurred, and she wobbled before collapsing back onto the mattress. She hated this feeling. If she kept getting pushed to the limit like this, she would have to do something about it.

"Are you dizzy again?"

Praenarin asked, standing up with her belongings in hand. She looked at Khemjira, but her expression showed nothing more than mild curiosity.

"Why? You’re acting like a wildcat that claws its prey, only to feel sorry afterward. That doesn’t suit you at all. Or is it because this prey is just too adorable?"

"Can you stop talking like that? It’s annoying." Praenarin frowned in irritation.

"I'm going downstairs. If I see Khwanrin, I'll tell her to come take care of you."

With that, she turned to leave, but before she could take a step, her phone buzzed with a new message. She froze mid-step, staring at the screen. Her expression shifted so noticeably that Khemjira, who had been watching her, became curious.

"Is something wrong?" "No."

Praenarin denied it, but her face was tense. Khemjira took it upon herself to lean in and peek at the phone screen—only to see a message from Phrapai, Praenarin’s ex-girlfriend. She had accepted the invitation to their wedding.

"You invited your ex to our wedding?"

Khemjira asked, not upset, just concerned. She wasn’t afraid of that woman attending, but she worried about Praenarin's feelings. Why invite someone who had hurt her? Did she secretly hope Phrapai would come back before

the wedding?

"It's none of your business."

"It is my business. Khun Rin, your problems are my problems. If you’re hurting, then I’m hurting too."

Without hesitation, Khemjira pulled Praenarin into a hug, hoping to ease some of the pain buried in her heart. Even if her embrace was unwanted, she wished she could take away at least a fraction of that sorrow.

"Get hurt as much as you need to,"

She whispered.

"But after that, marry me. I promise I’ll heal every wound you have. I swear it with all my heart."

Her warm hands gently stroked Praenarin’s silky black hair, offering silent comfort.

Praenarin leaned her forehead against Khemjira’s shoulder, letting the other woman hold her. She didn’t push her away. She couldn’t.

She couldn’t hold back her tears either.

She knew inviting Phrapai was like reopening an old wound—like an addict craving pain. She wanted Phrapai to come and make it hurt even more, hoping that if the pain was strong enough, it would finally numb her heart.

.

.

Ever since arriving at the office, Khemjira had been distracted. A single

sentence had been stuck in her mind since she left home, lingering even as she reached work. While everyone on her team was busy, she secretly lifted her phone to glance at the rushed pre-wedding photos they had taken at a

simple photography studio.

Praenarin hadn't looked particularly happy—nothing like a typical bride-to- be. But the fact that she hadn't outright refused to marry her... that meant this wedding wasn’t completely forced.

“P’Jay, P’Balloon, I’m taking leave this Friday,”

Khemjira announced, finally setting her phone down and gathering the courage to break the news to her colleagues.

Her two teammates, who had been focused on their work, looked up in surprise.

“Huh? You’re already taking leave? You haven’t even worked here for a full month.”

“I actually informed HR about this before I started,” Khemjira explained.

“Oh, so you had something planned. Well, it’s good you gave them a heads- up,”

Balloon replied, seemingly unfazed. Both he and Jay simply nodded and returned to their tasks.

But Khemjira’s hands trembled with excitement. She had a very important reason for taking leave.

"Actually…"

She started, then hesitated, unable to stop smiling shyly. Jay raised an eyebrow.

“What is it? You look like you’ve got something big to tell us.” “I’m taking leave… for my wedding.”

The words tumbled out, leaving Khemjira’s face burning red with a mix of embarrassment and joy. She hadn’t invited anyone at work—she didn’t want the whole company to know. But at the same time, she couldn’t keep it to herself.

“What? Say that again!”

“I’m taking leave to get married.”

This time, they practically gasped in unison, hands flying to their mouths in shock.

“Seriously, Nong Khem? That’s amazing! Can we tell everyone?”

Still beaming, Khemjira gave a small nod, unable to contain her excitement. That was all Balloon needed. He jumped up from his chair and shouted across the office—

“Everyone, listen up! Our little Khem is taking leave this Friday for her wedding!”

The entire team turned in surprise before breaking into cheers. Some were shocked—she was only 23 and had just started working. But in the end,

everyone congratulated her, offering well wishes in advance. Everyone except two people.

Ji, the team leader, and another female colleague, who had never liked Khemjira, made their distaste clear. Instead of joining in, they marched right up to her desk.

“You’re taking leave to get married when you haven’t even worked here for a month?”

Ji scoffed, folding her arms.

“Let me guess—you must be someone’s spoiled little princess from the upper management. Must be nice having special privileges.”

"I'm not related to anyone here," Khemjira replied calmly.

"I informed HR about my wedding plans before I even got the job. I didn’t receive any special privileges."

She was telling the truth. She had no connections in the company—she was alone now, apart from some distant relatives she barely knew.

Ji scoffed.

"I wouldn't know about that. People who take someone else's spot always have a way of making themselves look good. But whatever, you don’t need to explain—it still doesn’t make sense."

With that, Ji and her sidekick turned and marched out of the room, leaving behind an awkward silence.

Khemjira frowned, confused. "Taking someone else's spot?"

What was that supposed to mean? Did they think she forced someone to resign just so she could take their job? That was ridiculous.

"Don't mind them, Nong Khem,"

Jay said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Ji’s always like that. Just stay relaxed—you’ll want to look your best on your wedding day."

Khemjira nodded, letting it go. "Wait a second,"

Balloon suddenly spoke up.

"I heard from the department head that Boss Rin is also getting married this Friday. That’s why we had to move our meeting up a day. What a coincidence!"

Her teammates continued chatting, but Khemjira pressed her lips together, staying silent.

She wasn’t allowed to say anything about their wedding. That was the deal. Until Praenarin acknowledged her, she couldn't say a word.

"My old friend is getting married that day too," Jay added.

"Must be a super lucky date! But anyway—congratulations, Khem! Your groom must be really lucky to have such a beautiful bride!"

Her two coworkers beamed, offering their congratulations with exaggerated enthusiasm, completely abandoning their work.

Khemjira’s face burned red—she was already struggling to hold back her embarrassment. But then she corrected them softly—

"Not a groom. A bride." Jay gasped dramatically.

"Oh no! I’m too late! If I had met you a year or two earlier, I would’ve been your biggest shipper! Right, Balloon?"

"Absolutely," Balloon confirmed. "This fabulous gay man approves!"

Khemjira chuckled, shaking her head before quickly returning to work.

She couldn’t help but wonder—what would these two do when they found out who she was actually marrying?

They gossiped about Praenarin all the time without knowing she was

Khemjira’s fiancée. Would they still be able to look her in the eye after that?

When lunchtime arrived, Khemjira headed to the company cafeteria with Jay and Balloon. The place was surprisingly fancy—almost like a hotel dining hall. The food looked great, and the seating was sleek and stylish— just what you'd expect from a furniture design company.

"We're going to grab some Vietnamese food today. If you finish first, just find us a table, okay?"

"Okay."

Khemjira picked up a plastic tray and carefully selected both savory and sweet dishes. As she scanned the room for a seat, she spotted a familiar figure—Praenarin, the CEO everyone called ‘Queen Elsa.’

And she was eating alone.

"Even in a cafeteria full of hundreds of employees, her CEO aura is still blinding,"

Khemjira muttered to herself, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. Someone should keep an eye on her.

Balloon and Jay had mentioned before that their CEO often attracted admirers at lunch. Well, today, she had a personal bodyguard.

Without hesitation, Khemjira walked straight to Praenarin's table. "Can I sit here?"

Praenarin looked up from her tray, rolled her eyes, and sighed. "You. "

Khemjira took that as permission and sat down before Praenarin could protest.

"What a coincidence! What are you doing here?" Praenarin narrowed her eyes.

"Seriously? What do people usually do in a cafeteria? Plant trees?"

Khemjira blinked. Wow. Her fiancée’s sharp tongue never failed to impress. But did she look discouraged? Not at all.

"You can't plant trees here," Khemjira said, grinning. "But we can plant love."

She winked playfully. Praenarin groaned.

"Will you stop messing around? If you’re going to act like this, go sit somewhere else. You’re annoying."

Khemjira noticed Praenarin glancing around, checking if anyone was watching. Employees were passing by, some stealing glances in their direction.

She decided to play along, straightening up as if she were just another respectful employee.

"Don't worry. I'll be as discreet as possible so no one finds out about...us." Praenarin scoffed.

"There is no ‘us.’"

But the glare she gave only made Khemjira smirk. She glanced around—no one was looking now—so she leaned in slightly and smiled sweetly.

"Fine, fine. There's no ‘us’..."

Khemjira said, her voice light and teasing.

"...but after this Friday, there will be."

Jay had just finished filling his tray when he glanced across the cafeteria— only to spot their junior sitting face-to-face with Boss Rin.

The same Boss Rin that no one in the company dared to eat with. "Balloon, what the hell is Khem doing?"

Jay nudged his friend, prompting them to look.

Balloon followed Jay's gaze and immediately freaked out.

"Oh my god! This is a disaster! How could you let this happen, Jay? Why didn't you stop her?!"

Balloon stomped in place, anxiously waving their hands.

"How was I supposed to know? We were getting food together! Or do you want to go sit with them?"

Balloon shuddered.

"Are you insane? Who would dare?"

"Then let’s just find another table and ask Khem later. She’s new—Boss probably won’t freeze her to death... right?"

"Ugh, fine. Hurry up."

Balloon dramatically swayed their hips as they walked away, leaving Jay to trail behind.

No one in this company dared to approach Boss Rin.

With her icy demeanor and reputation as the ‘Queen Elsa’ of the office, even sitting near her felt like stepping into a freezer. Would Khemjira even

be able to eat in peace?

Meanwhile, at Praenarin's table, Khemjira took a bite of her food and casually asked,

"Why are you eating here today?" Praenarin barely lifted her eyes.

"Why? Do I need your permission? Are you my mother?"

Her voice was as cold as ever, her gaze sharp and unimpressed—like she was looking at a pigeon trying to steal food from her plate.

Khemjira swallowed her bite, determined not to be intimidated. "It’s just... you usually eat out."

Praenarin raised an eyebrow.

"So, you've been stalking me every day?" Khemjira gasped.

"No! I just visit your office sometimes and notice you're not there." "That’s called stalking."

She was obviously enjoying teasing Khemjira, who pouted in protest. Just then, someone unwelcome approached the table.

A man stopped at the head of the table, smiling directly at Khemjira. "Miss Rin," he greeted.

Praenarin looked up, immediately putting on a polite, professional smile. "Oh, Mr. Kiri. Right on time,"

She said smoothly, standing up.

"Sorry, I started eating early—I hadn't had lunch yet."

Khemjira had never received that kind of smile from Praenarin before.

Her eyes widened, and her face grew hot as she glanced between the two of them.

The nearby employees were whispering among themselves, sneaking glances at Praenarin and the man. Judging by their expressions, they were probably shipping them together.

At that moment, the man spoke up, his voice smooth and confident.

"I thought you would schedule our meeting at a restaurant outside. I didn’t expect you to choose the company cafeteria,"

He remarked. Then he glanced around, nodding in approval.

"But I have to say, this place looks amazing—almost like a hotel dining hall."

Khemjira finally snapped out of her daze. She stood up and turned to Praenarin, curiosity burning inside her.

"Who is he?" she blurted out.

Before Praenarin could answer, the man frowned slightly and spoke instead, his tone polite yet firm.

"Actually, I should be the one asking—who are you? And why are you sitting here?"

Khemjira felt a sting of annoyance.

Before she could reply, Praenarin beat her to it. "She’s an employee here,"

Praenarin said smoothly, her tone casual and distant.

"She probably saw me sitting alone and thought she'd be nice enough to keep me company."

Khemjira froze.

Her mouth parted slightly in shock.

Was this woman serious?!

She had spent the whole lunch trying to keep Praenarin from being flirted with, and this was the thanks she got?!

The man nodded, clearly not that interested in her. Instead, he turned back to Praenarin.

"But we have business to discuss. Would you mind moving to another table?"

He asked Khemjira politely.

Praenarin smirked faintly, watching Khemjira’s reaction with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

She didn't say a word. She didn’t ask Khemjira to stay.

She just sat back down, her gaze steady, as if silently challenging her to leave.

Khemjira felt her face heat up even more.

She suddenly felt like a dog whose owner had completely ignored her after all her effort to chase away other suitors.

She clenched her jaw slightly but forced a smile. "Fine," she said coolly.

She picked up her tray, shooting Praenarin a small glare before walking away, her heart pounding with frustration.

She didn’t trust Praenarin to sit alone with that guy.

She knew Rin still clung to her past love, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see her with someone else.

Why was she acting like a possessive dog over her owner?

…Ugh. She hated this feeling.