Love Written in Lies

Inside Khaotung’s law firm office, the atmosphere was tense yet oddly playful. Khaotung stood in front of the large mirror on the wall, adjusting his tie while practicing his victory speech.

While his secretary, Dana, sat nearby, arms crossed, watching him.

“I’m sorry, Milk, you’ve lost this time.” Khaotung straightened his posture, lowering his voice to sound more authoritative.

Then he cleared his throat and tried another statement. “I’ve won, Milk.”

Dana sighed and stood up, walking over to him with her clipboard in hand.

“First of all, that was way too dramatic. You’re a lawyer, not an actor. Second, you need to stop practicing your victory speech before the trial even starts. What if you actually lose?”

Khaotung turned to her, feigning offense. “Lose? Me? Against Milk? That’s impossible.”

Dana raised an eyebrow. “Right. Just like last time when you were so confident, and she completely wrecked your argument?”

Khaotung scoffed. “That was a luck.”

“Sure.” Dana tapped her pen against her clipboard.

“Look, focus on the case, not on gloating. You can’t afford to underestimate Milk.”

Khaotung smirked, walking past Dana and grabbing his briefcase. “I’ve got this, Dana. You’ll see. By the end of today, Milk will know exactly who the better lawyer is.”

Dana rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Just don’t embarrass yourself.”

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The courtroom was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The air buzzed with anticipation as the case of Ciize versus her cheating husband unfolded before the judge.

Milk sat at the prosecution table, her expression unreadable as she flipped through her notes. Across from her, Khaotung, the opposing lawyer, adjusted his tie and cleared his throat before addressing the judge.

The judge tapped their gavel lightly. “We may proceed. Mr. Rattanakitpaisan, you may begin.”

Khaotung stood, smoothing his suit. “Your Honor, my client is a man who has been unfairly accused. The allegations brought against him are based on misunderstandings and false assumptions. My client was nothing but a faithful husband—”

Milk let out a quiet scoff, shaking her head as she stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. That statement is entirely misleading. Faithful? Let’s not twist the narrative. The evidence suggests otherwise.”

The judge glanced at Milk. “Sustained. Please stick to the facts, Mr. Rattanakitpaisan.”

Khaotung sighed, but continued. “The accusations of financial misconduct have no substantial proof. We argue that any financial transactions made were consensual within the marriage. There was no theft, no deceit—”

Milk stood again, her voice cool and unwavering. “That’s an interesting perspective, Mr. Rattanakitpaisan, but unfortunately for your client, facts don’t care about perspectives.”

She turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, my team has uncovered undeniable proof that Mr. Chai has been stealing money from my client, Ms. Ciize, to fund not one, not two, but multiple mistresses. We have transaction records, bank statements, and even messages between him and these women."

Khaotung’s confidence faltered for a split second before he countered, “Even if such transactions exist, they could have been gifts. Spouses often share finances, and there’s no law stating a husband cannot spend—”

Before he could finish, Milk turned towards the courtroom doors just as they swung open. Freen entered, holding a thick folder in her hands. She walked straight to Milk and handed her the documents.

“Sorry for the delay,” she said, flashing a small grin.

“I had to make sure we got everything.”

Milk nodded and turned back to the judge. “Your Honor, these are signed statements from each of the women involved. Not only do they confirm receiving large sums of money, but they also state that they were fully aware of Mr. Chai’s marital status. In some of these messages, Mr. Chai explicitly promises them an expensive lifestyle using Ms. Ciize’s money. This isn’t just a case of simple ‘gifts’, this is financial deception, exploitation, and a breach of marital trust.”

Gasps echoed through the courtroom as Milk passed copies of the documents to the judge and Khaotung. Khaotung’s confident expression faltered as he skimmed through the pages. Mr. Chai, seated beside him, went pale.

Khaotung’s jaw tightened. “Your Honor, these so-called ‘mistresses’ could be lying. People fabricate statements all the time for financial gain.”

Milk tilted her head. “And yet, I have text messages, emails, and bank records to back up their claims. Will you argue that these records were fabricated as well? Because if so, I’d love to hear how your client explains transferring thousands of baht to women he claims he doesn’t know.”

The courtroom fell silent. The judge reviewed the documents, nodding slightly. “This evidence is quite substantial.”

Ciize, seated beside Milk, exhaled sharply, gripping her lawyer’s arm in gratitude. Her husband, on the other hand, turned pale, shifting uncomfortably as his secrets revealed in front of everyone.

Meanwhile, outside the courtroom, Love stood near the entrance, watching everything unfold through a small glass window. She had been following the case since the beginning, fascinated by the legal arguments but mostly by how Milk handled herself in the courtroom...calm, sharp, and always in control.

Back inside, Khaotung sighed, rubbing his temple. “Your Honor, we request additional time to review these new documents—”

“Denied,” the judge said firmly. “You have had ample time to prepare your defense. The evidence provided by the plaintiff’s counsel is clear, and I see no reason to delay further.”

Milk smirked slightly as Khaotung struggled to keep his composure.

Ciize turned to Milk, whispering, “Thank you.”

Milk gave a small nod. “We’re not done yet, but we’re close. Just hold on.”

Love, still watching, grinned to herself. Milk Vosbein was undeniably good at what she did. And even though she’d never say it out loud, it was kind of fun watching her tear people apart in the courtroom.

A week had passed since the trial, and the city moved on from the drama of the courtroom, but Milk Vosbein remained as sharp and composed as ever. Love had noticed that despite the victory, Milk had thrown herself into work even more, rarely taking breaks. 

That afternoon, while Love was preparing tea in the penthouse, Milk received a call from Ciize. Milk, who rarely let her professional cases become personal, seemed slightly different when she answered this call.

“Ciize,” Milk said, her voice calm but with a hint of warmth.

“How are you?”

“Relieved, honestly,” Ciize responded from the other end.

“I wanted to thank you properly for everything you’ve done for me. You fought for me, Milk. I don’t think I could have won without you.”

Milk leaned against the kitchen counter, twirling the edge of her sleeve between her fingers. “You had the truth on your side. I just made sure it was heard.”

There was a small pause before Ciize spoke again. “I’m throwing a party to celebrate this new chapter in my life. A fresh start. And I want you to be there.”

Milk glanced toward Love, who was placing a teacup down. “That’s kind of you, but you don’t need to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Ciize replied. “I want to. You stood by me, Milk. You believed in me when others thought I was just a bitter ex-wife. It would mean a lot if you came.”

Milk hesitated. Parties weren’t really her thing, and after everything that had happened, she was exhausted. “That’s very kind, Ciize, but...”

“No buts!” Ciize interrupted, her tone playful but firm.

“You worked so hard for me, and I want you to enjoy yourself for once. Plus, it’ll be good for you to loosen up a little.”

Milk sighed, knowing she wouldn’t win against Ciize’s persistence. “Alright, alright. I’ll come. But just for a little while.”

“Perfect! See you there, then. And Milk? No work talk, okay?”

Milk chuckled. “I’ll try.”

Love, having overheard parts of the conversation, looked up. “Do I need to clear your schedule for the evening?”

Milk smirked. “No need. Also, you don’t need to drive me there. I can handle it.”

Love raised an eyebrow, setting her hands on her hips. “Oh? So, you’re suddenly too independent for your personal driver? What if you have too much champagne and end up stranded?”

Milk chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll manage. It’s just a party, Love. Not a battlefield.”

Love smirked, muttering under her breath, “That’s what people say before something goes terribly wrong.”

Milk shot her an amused look but said nothing further. The evening was set. 

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At the Party

The venue was a lavish rooftop lounge, decorated with fairy lights and soft music playing in the background. Guests mingled, drinks in hand, as laughter filled the air. Milk arrived fashionably late, dressed in a sleek black suit, exuding her usual aura of quiet confidence.

Ciize greeted her warmly. “You came! I almost thought you’d bail on me.”

Milk smiled. “I keep my promises.”

Ciize handed her a glass of champagne. “Relax. Enjoy yourself. No legal talk tonight.”

Milk took a sip and allowed herself to settle into the atmosphere. She chatted with some of Ciize’s friends, who were mostly businesspeople and artists. She even laughed a few times, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

But as the night wore on, the drinks kept coming. And Milk, who rarely let herself indulge, found herself enjoying the buzz a little too much. The stress of work, the tension with Love, everything seemed to fade away.

By the time the party started winding down, Milk was definitely drunk. She excused herself and somehow managed to call for a ride back home. The driver helped her into the elevator, and she swayed slightly as she made her way into the penthouse.

The penthouse was really quiet past midnight, save for the occasional hum of the city outside. Love had been resting in her room when the sudden clatter from the kitchen jolted her awake. Her heart pounded as she shot up, straining her ears. Another sound echoed—a glass? A plate? Panic surged through her veins.

Her instincts kicked in, and without thinking, she grabbed the nearest heavy object—a vase Milk had placed in the hallway. Love tiptoed toward the source of the noise, gripping the vase tightly, ready to defend herself and the home she now shared with Milk.

She reached the kitchen, eyes narrowing as she walked inside. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The fridge was slightly ajar, casting a dim light onto the marble counter. And then she saw her.

Milk stood in front of the fridge, a water bottle in her hand, her other palm braced against the counter for balance. Her usually sharp, confident eyes were half-lidded, unfocused. The moment Love took in the scene, the slight sway in Milk’s posture, the faintest pout on her lips...realization dawned...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Love muttered, lowering the vase.

“You’re drunk.”

Milk turned her head sluggishly and blinked at Love as if seeing her for the first time. A slow, lazy grin formed on her lips.

“Love... What’re you doin’ here?” Her voice was softer than usual.

“I live here?” Love raised an eyebrow, setting the vase down on the counter.

“What happened to ‘I can handle it’?”

Milk frowned as if Love’s words confused her, then waved a dismissive hand.

“I did handle it...Had a great time...And I came home...See? Handled.”

Love sighed, crossing her arms. “Barely. You’re lucky I didn’t smash this vase on your head thinking you were a burglar.”

Milk chuckled at that, but the motion made her wobble slightly. Love immediately reached out, steadying her with firm hands on her arms. The sudden contact made Milk still. Love wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol making her act this way, but the way Milk looked at her, dark eyes locked onto hers, made the air between them shift.

“Come on,” Love said, swallowing down the strange sensation creeping into her chest. “Let’s get you to bed before you pass out on the kitchen floor.”

Milk hummed but didn’t resist as Love guided her through the dimly lit penthouse. When they reached the bedroom, Love helped her sit on the bed, then knelt down to remove her heels.

Milk watched her in silence, her expression unreadable. When Love glanced up after setting the shoes aside, she found Milk still staring. “What?”

Milk tilted her head slightly. “You’re always taking care of people, aren’t you?”

Love replied. “Someone has to.”

Milk didn’t respond right away. She reached out, fingers lightly brushing against Love’s wrist.

“You always make sure everyone’s okay,” she murmured.

“Who makes sure you’re okay?”

Love’s breath hitched slightly. It was a simple question, but it caught her off guard.

“I...” She hesitated, feeling strangely exposed. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

Milk’s eyes softened. “You should.”

Love exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re drunk. Get some sleep.”

She started to stand, but before she could pull away, Milk tightened her grip on her wrist, pulling her back down.

Love barely had a second to process what was happening before she felt the soft press of Milk’s lips against hers. The world seemed to freeze. Love’s mind went blank, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. It wasn’t rough or demanding—it was slow. The warmth of Milk’s lips lingered longer than it should have before she finally pulled away.

Milk’s gaze, even in her drunken state, held something unreadable. “Love...” she whispered, as if she herself didn’t understand what she had just done.

Love shot to her feet, her breath coming out in short. “You... You’re drunk,” she repeated, more to herself than to Milk.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Milk frowned as if she wanted to argue, but her eyelids were already growing heavy. Within moments, she let out a soft sigh and sank back onto the pillows, sleep pulling her under.

Love stood frozen for a long time, staring at the woman she had been so determined to keep at a distance. Her fingers brushed over her lips absentmindedly before she clenched her hand into a fist.

This was a mistake. She has a fiance!

Shaking her head, she turned off the lights and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

But even as she lay in bed that night, trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, she knew that some things, some feelings would not be so easily forgotten.