CHAPTER TWELVE — SATURDAY COMPLICATIONS
1273 Words
Yoko Tran-Siripong had planned a perfectly sensible weekend.
Sleep late.
Eat too much.
Avoid thinking about Faye Malhotra.
The plan collapsed at 9:12 a.m. on Saturday.
Because apparently her brain had other ideas.
She woke up reaching for her phone out of pure habit—and immediately saw the text message again.
“Try to relax.” – F.
Three simple words.
Yet somehow they had the emotional weight of a full confession.
Yoko groaned and buried her face in the pillow.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “It’s just a message. From your boss. Who is definitely not thinking about you right now.”
Her phone buzzed.
She nearly fell off the bed.
Another message.
From the same number.
“Are you awake?”
Yoko stared at the screen in horror.
“Oh no.”
She considered her options carefully.
Option A: Ignore it and pretend she was still asleep.
Option B: Respond like a normal professional adult.
Option C: Throw the phone out the window and change her identity.
Unfortunately, Option B was the only sane choice.
She typed back:
“Yes. Why?”
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
“Good. I need a favor.”
Yoko’s stomach tightened.
A favor. On a Saturday.
Of course.
She sighed and replied:
“What kind of favor?”
Thirty minutes later, she was standing in front of a small art gallery near Chao Phraya River wondering how her life had taken such a strange turn.
Faye Malhotra stepped out of a black car looking effortlessly elegant in casual clothes — dark jeans, simple blouse, no makeup.
Yoko blinked.
This version of her boss was somehow even more dangerous.
“Thank you for coming,” Faye said.
“You didn’t exactly give me much choice,” Yoko replied.
“I would have accepted no.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Faye almost smiled. “Fair.”
Yoko glanced at the building. “So what’s the emergency?”
“My mother is hosting a private art event here tonight. She asked me to review the setup.”
“And you need me because…?”
“Because you’re good at noticing details I ignore.”
Yoko folded her arms. “You dragged me out of bed for décor opinions?”
“Yes.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Consider it overtime.”
Yoko sighed. “Fine. But I’m getting coffee after this.”
“Agreed.”
Inside the gallery, workers arranged paintings and lighting while event planners rushed around in controlled panic.
Faye moved through the space with calm authority, pointing out adjustments and asking sharp questions.
Yoko followed beside her, offering suggestions before she was even asked.
“That table should be moved closer to the entrance,” Yoko said.
“The lighting on that piece is too harsh.”
“The seating arrangement is awkward.”
Faye listened.
Agreed.
Implemented.
They fell into an easy rhythm — professional, efficient, annoyingly in sync.
At one point, the head organizer asked, “Are you two partners?”
Yoko choked.
“Work partners,” Faye corrected smoothly.
“Yes,” Yoko added quickly. “Very work.”
The organizer nodded and walked away.
Faye glanced at her. “You’re blushing.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“It’s air-conditioned.”
“Exactly.”
After two hours, the gallery finally looked perfect.
Faye turned to her. “Satisfied?”
Yoko surveyed the room. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“The flowers are wrong.”
Faye sighed. “You and flowers.”
“They’re important!”
Faye studied her with amusement. “Fine. Change them.”
Yoko grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
True to her promise, Faye took her for coffee afterward.
Not a fancy café.
Not a business lunch.
Just a small riverside shop with plastic chairs and strong Thai coffee.
Yoko stared at her in disbelief. “Are you sure you’re Faye Malhotra?”
“I do leave my office occasionally.”
“Shocking.”
They sat across from each other like two normal people enjoying a quiet Saturday.
No laptops.
No schedules.
No titles.
It felt strange.
And far too intimate.
“So,” Yoko said, stirring her drink, “do you always make assistants work on weekends?”
“Only the competent ones.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“A compliment disguised as an insult.”
Faye’s lips twitched. “You know me too well.”
The words hung between them.
Yoko pretended her heart wasn’t racing.
A comfortable silence settled.
Boats passed lazily on the river. The city hummed around them.
For a moment, it was easy to forget reality.
Until Faye asked quietly, “Why did you defend me at the retreat?”
Yoko blinked. “What?”
“With your coworkers,” Faye clarified. “You didn’t have to.”
Yoko looked down at her cup.
“I don’t like people being unfair,” she said simply.
“Even when it’s about me?”
“Especially when it’s about you.”
The honesty surprised them both.
Faye watched her closely.
“You’re very loyal,” she said.
Yoko shrugged. “I just think you deserve respect.”
Something softened in Faye’s expression.
“Thank you.”
They finished their coffee, lingering longer than necessary.
Finally Faye glanced at her watch.
“I should let you get back to your weekend.”
“You already stole half of it.”
“And you survived.”
“Barely.”
Faye stood. “I’ll have my driver take you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist.”
Yoko sighed. “You really don’t take no for an answer.”
“Rarely.”
In the car, the mood shifted again.
Quiet. Thoughtful.
Yoko stared out the window, painfully aware of how close they were sitting.
“Thank you for today,” Faye said suddenly.
“It was… surprisingly nice,” Yoko admitted.
Faye turned toward her. “You don’t have to be so formal outside the office.”
Yoko froze. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Faye said carefully, “you can call me Faye.”
Her heart skipped.
“Are you sure that’s appropriate?”
“Right now, we’re not at work.”
The sentence felt heavy with meaning.
“Okay,” Yoko whispered. “Faye.”
Hearing her name like that seemed to affect Faye more than she expected.
She looked away quickly.
When they reached Yoko’s apartment building, neither moved right away.
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” Faye said.
“You too.”
Another one of those pauses.
Then Yoko opened the door.
“Thanks for the coffee. And for… trusting me.”
Faye nodded. “You’ve earned it.”
Their eyes met.
The space between them felt suddenly very small.
“Goodnight, Yo—”
Faye stopped herself. “Goodnight.”
Yoko smiled softly.
“Goodnight… Faye.”
Upstairs, Yoko collapsed onto her bed with a groan.
“That was not a work favor,” she whispered to the ceiling.
That was something else entirely.
Something dangerously close to a date.
Across the city, Faye stood on her balcony staring at the Bangkok skyline.
She replayed the day in her mind — Yoko’s laughter, her opinions, the easy conversation.
Calling her by name.
No title.
No distance.
Faye closed her eyes.
“This is getting complicated,” she admitted.
Because somewhere along the way, the assistant she was supposed to keep at arm’s length had quietly stepped much, much closer.
And Faye wasn’t sure she wanted to push her away anymore.
- Writer
