Changes
Morning in Milk’s penthouse was usually peaceful. She enjoyed waking up to silence, making her coffee, and easing into the day without any unnecessary distractions. That was before Love.
Now, instead of silence, Milk was greeted by the sound of someone singing badly along with the clatter of pans in the kitchen. She groaned, throwing off her blankets and dragging herself out of bed.
By the time she reached the kitchen, Love was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.
She was wearing an oversized T-shirt and shorts, her hair still messy from sleep. Milk crossed her arms.
“You’re loud.”
Love turned, beaming. “Good morning to you too, boss.”
Milk scowled. “Don’t call me that.”
Love grinned, setting a plate of pancakes on the counter.
“You’re my employer, aren’t you?”
Milk didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she eyed the food suspiciously.
“Why are you making breakfast?”
Love shrugged.
“Coz you offered me job to be your private chef? and I live here now. Might as well make myself useful.”
Milk hesitated. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?”
Love rolled her eyes. “Just eat, Pansa. It won’t kill you.”
Milk sat down, reluctantly picking up her fork. She wasn’t about to admit it, but the pancakes were good. Love leaned in, waiting.
“Well?”
After a long pause, Milk set her fork down and folded her hands together.
“It’s...uhm surprisingly edible.”
Love gasped.
“Edible? That’s all I get? I slaved away for—”
Milk held up a hand to stop her. “Fine. It’s good. Happy?”
Love grinned. “Very.”
Milk took another bite, nodding. “Alright, I’ll admit it. Not bad. But I’m still not forgiving you for the early wake-up call.”
“Oh, please. Deep down, you love it.” Love winked.
Milk rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she picked up her coffee and took a sip, watching Love as she happily ate her own food.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Milk leaned back.
“By the way, I have a proposal for you and Freen later.”
Love tilted her head. “What kind of proposal?”
Milk smirked. “You’ll see.”
Love groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto the counter. “Ugh, you’re so mysterious.”
Milk just sipped her coffee, hiding her small smile.
Freen arrived at the penthouse just as the afternoon sunlight streamed through the massive windows. She adjusted her sunglasses and stepped inside, immediately sensing the shift in atmosphere.
Love was already sitting on the couch, legs curled beneath her, flipping through a magazine.
Freen greeted, taking a seat beside her. “Oh, hey. What’s the occasion? Milk called me. She said she had something important to say.”
Love frowned. “Yeah, same here. I was hoping you knew more.”
Before they could speculate further, Milk entered the room, looking effortlessly cool. She had changed into a fitted black blazer over a plain white top, her hair styled neatly, exuding confidence. In one hand, she held a glass of red wine, swirling it lazily as she approached. She settled into an armchair across from them, taking a slow sip before speaking.
“Alright, let’s get to the point,” Milk said, placing her glass down on the side table.
“I’ve been thinking about our arrangement, and I want to make some changes.”
Freen raised an eyebrow. “Changes? Good or bad?”
Milk smirked. “That depends on how you look at it.”
Love crossed her arms. “I swear, if this is about me making too much noise in the kitchen this morning—”
“It’s not,” Milk interrupted, amusement flashing in her eyes.
“Actually, it’s about something more practical.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“Freen, you’ve been my secretary, driver, and right-hand for years. But I think it’s time we adjust our roles. From now on, I want you to focus entirely on investigations. You have the skills, and I need someone I can trust digging deeper into this case.”
Freen blinked. “Wait. You want me to be your full-time investigator?”
Milk nodded. “Exactly. I need someone sharp, someone relentless. And that’s you.”
Freen leaned back, processing. Then, she grinned.
“Not gonna lie, this was kind of my dream job as a kid you know becoming a detective hehe. You sure about this?”
Milk nodded. “I am.”
Freen dramatically placed a hand over her heart.
“My childhood dreams are coming true.”
Love rolled her eyes. “You dreamt of being a detective?”
“Of course! Trench coat, magnifying glass, the whole deal.” Freen grinned.
“This is the best day of my life.”
Love cleared her throat. “And what about me?”
Milk turned to her, eyes steady. “You’ll be my driver.”
Love blinked. “Your what now?”
Milk leaned back, picking up her wine again.
“You heard me. You’ll drive me to meetings, to investigations, wherever I need to go. This way, you’ll always be in the loop and won’t think I’m hiding anything from you.”
Love stared at her for a long moment. Then she laughed.
“Wait, wait. So basically, you just made me your chauffeur?”
Milk tilted her head. “Technically, yes. But it comes with benefits. You’ll have full access to everything I’m working on, which means you’ll be able to keep up with the investigation into your sister’s accident. And...I’ll pay double since you’re my cook. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Love’s laughter died down as she considered the offer. She hated to admit it, but it actually made sense. She’d have a reason to stick around Milk, keep an eye on her, higher salary, and still be involved.
Freen nudged her. “Come on, it’s not a bad deal. Plus, you get to drive a fancy car every day.”
Love sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I want a cool title. None of this ‘driver’ nonsense.”
Milk smirked. “How about ‘Personal Transportation Specialist’?”
Love groaned. “That sounds even worse!”
Freen laughed. “You could just go with ‘Bodyguard’. Sounds badass.”
Love’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh, I like that. I’ll be your bodyguard.”
Milk rolled her eyes but chuckled. “Fine, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Love leaned forward, her expression serious now. “Alright. I’ll do it. But on one condition.”
Milk raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”
Love smirked. “I get to pick the music when we drive.”
Milk groaned. “Absolutely not.”
Freen grinned, watching them bicker.
“This is going to be fun.”
The conference room smelled like expensive leather and freshly brewed coffee. Milk sat at the head of the long glass table, her expression unreadable as she tapped her nails lightly against the armrest of her chair.
Across from her sat Ciize, a woman in her early thirties, dressed immaculately in a tailored beige suit. She had the aura of someone who had spent years perfecting the art of looking composed, but the tight grip she had on her pen gave away her tension.
Milk took a slow sip of her espresso before setting it down with precision. “Let’s go over everything once more,” she said calmly, flipping open the file in front of her.
“Your husband, soon-to-be ex-husband, has been unfaithful for quite some time. You have proof?”
Ciize nodded, pushing a folder across the table. “Text messages, photos, even a hotel receipt. He’s been careless. Too arrogant to think I’d ever leave him.”
Milk opened the folder and skimmed through the evidence. She’d seen worse, but it never ceased to amaze her how predictably foolish men could be.
“And the prenup?”
“Ironclad. But he thinks he can contest it.”
Milk allowed herself a small, knowing smile. “He won’t win.”
Before Ciize could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open. A slow, deliberate intrusion. Milk didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here, Pansa,” a familiar voice drawled.
Milk exhaled through her nose before lifting her gaze. Khaotung stood in the doorway, his tailored navy-blue suit sharp, his expression dripping with cocky amusement. He strode inside like he owned the place, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.
Ciize stiffened. “What is he doing here?”
Milk didn’t look away from Khaotung as she answered, “He’s representing your husband.”
Ciize let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Of course he is.”
Khaotung settled into the chair opposite Milk, taking his time as if this were a casual coffee date rather than a high-stakes legal battle.
“Come on, Milk. You don’t have to make this so hard on yourself. You know as well as I do that cases like these can get...messy.”
Milk met his gaze with a poker face. “Messy for him. Not for me.”
Khaotung chuckled, shaking his head.
“Still as cold as ever. You should consider taking me up on my offer. A partnership would be beneficial for both of us.”
Milk leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t mix business with sentiment, Khaotung. And I certainly don’t partner with someone whose interests clash with mine.”
Khaotung exhaled dramatically.
“You wound me. But let’s talk about the case. Ciize, you might want to reconsider pushing too hard on this. Your husband is willing to negotiate—”
“Negotiate?” Ciize scoffed, her anger flaring.
“You mean he wants to get away with everything and still keep his money.”
Khaotung shrugged. “I’m saying he’s open to a deal. He’s willing to part with some assets, a lump sum, in exchange for a clean break. No public mess.”
Milk tapped her fingers on the table.
“That’s convenient, considering he’s the one who created the mess in the first place.”
Ciize shook her head. “I don’t want hush money. I want what’s rightfully mine. I put years into that marriage while he slept around behind my back. Why should I take the easy way out just to protect his reputation?”
Khaotung sighed, rubbing his nose. “Look, I get it. I do. But dragging this through court means airing out every little detail. He’s prepared to fight. And with his connections—”
“Connections don’t scare me,” Milk interrupted coolly.
“And they certainly won’t stop me from winning.”
Khaotung' s jaw tightened.“So stubborn. As always.”
Milk smirked. “And yet, you keep showing up.”
Ciize leaned forward. “Let me be clear, Khaotung. I don’t care what deal your client is offering. He cheated. He lied. He disrespected me for years. I’m taking him to court, and I’ll make sure he regrets ever thinking I wouldn’t.”
Khaotung sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Milk’s smirk deepened. “I never do.”
Milk walked towards her car, her heels clicking against the pavement of the underground parking lot. As she approached her car, she heard hurried footsteps behind her.
“Milk, wait up.”
She sighed, not bothering to turn around.
“Khaotung, I thought we were done.”
“You thought wrong,” he replied, catching up beside her.
“Why are you so against this? A partnership between us could be powerful. We could win cases like these together instead of constantly being on opposite sides.”
Milk unlocked her car with a press of her key fob and turned to face him.
“You think I want to align myself with someone who represents cheaters and manipulators? You and I don’t operate the same way, Khaotung.”
He let out a low chuckle.
“You act like you’re above all this, but you know as well as I do that the law isn’t black and white. Sometimes you have to bend a little to win.”
“I don’t bend,” Milk said firmly.
“I fight.”
Khaotung tilted his head, a small smile playing at his lips.
“And that’s why I like you, Pansa. But you can’t always be at war with everyone. Eventually, you’re going to need an ally.”
Milk’s expression didn’t change.
“If I ever do, it won’t be you.”
Before he could respond, she got into her car, shutting the door with finality. Through the window, she saw Khaotung watching her, his smirk faltering slightly as she drove away.
.
.
.
A few parking spaces away, Love stood with a group of drivers, chatting and laughing. Her arms were crossed, a relaxed grin on her face as she exchanged playful banter with the others.
“So, you’re saying you can reverse-park better than me?” one of the drivers teased.
Love smirked. “I’m saying I can park blindfolded better than you can with both eyes open.”
The group burst into laughter just as Love’s gaze drifted toward the far side of the lot.
Her fingers tightened around her crossed arms as she watched Khaotung linger for a moment before finally walking off.
She spotted Milk and Khaotung standing close, engaged in what looked like a serious conversation.
They looked...comfortable.
That man is probably her fiance. She assumed.
Love’s chest tightened.
Why did that thought make her uneasy?
She forced a laugh at something one of the drivers said, but her gaze kept flickering back to them, unable to shake the feeling burning inside her.
Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.