29-11-2025, 04:34 PM
The smell of antiseptic and despair clung to the linoleum floors. Moli followed the familiar path to Room 314, her heels clicking a rhythm that felt both funereal and illicit. Sumu walked beside her, close enough that the back of his hand occasionally brushed against hers, a spark of electricity in the sterile silence.
Subimol lay in the bed, a network of tubes and wires tethering him to the beeping, blinking machines that kept him company. His face was pale, a patchwork of bruises fading to a sickly yellow at the edges. His eyes, when they opened, were cloudy with pain and medication.
“You’re here,” he breathed, the words a dry rustle.
“Of course we are,” Moli said, setting her purse down. She leaned over to kiss his forehead, her large breasts brushing against his arm. She caught Sumu watching the movement, his dark eyes hungry. She straightened up, a flush warming her neck.
“How are you feeling today?” Sumu asked, pulling a chair close to the bed. His knee bumped against Moli’s as she sat, and they let the contact linger for a moment too long.
“The doctors say… the internal bleeding has stopped. For now.” Subimol winced as he shifted. “It’s a waiting game. They say I’m not out of the woods.”
“But you’re a fighter,” Moli said, her voice soft. She reached out and smoothed the hair back from his brow, her wedding band catching the fluorescent light. A symbol of everything she was betraying just a few feet away.
“I have to be,” Subimol whispered. He turned his head slowly, his gaze settling on Sumu. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, son. Looking after Moli. Holding everything together at the house. It means… everything.”
Sumu’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Subimol insisted, his voice gaining a fragment of strength. “I lie here, and my only peace is knowing you’re there for her. That she’s not alone.”
Moli let her hand fall from Subimol’s hair to his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle circles on the hospital gown. She looked directly at Sumu, her eyes dark and knowing. “Oh, he’s been incredibly attentive, Bimol. Really. I’ve never felt so… looked after.”
Sumu held her gaze, a slow, dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I’m just doing my duty. Making sure all your needs are met.”
“Every single one,” Moli purred, her voice dropping to a intimate register that was entirely inappropriate for the room. “He’s been very thorough. Especially in the evenings. When the house is quiet.”
Subimol nodded, a feeble, grateful motion. “Good. That’s good. He’s a good boy.”
Moli had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the hysterical laugh that threatened to bubble up. A good boy. If only he knew. If only he could see the way Sumu’s “thorough” care involved pinning her against the wall of their hallway, his hand shoved into her panties before they’d even made it to the bedroom.
“He’s been sleeping in the guest room, of course,” Subimol continued, oblivious.
“Of course,” Sumu echoed, his eyes never leaving Moli’s. “But I often hear her… stirring. Restless. So I check on her. Make sure she’s comfortable.”
“He’s very good at comforting me,” Moli said, her voice thick. She let her foot slide forward under the bed until the tip of her shoe connected with Sumu’s ankle. She pressed down. “He knows exactly how to… ease the tension. He finds all the right spots.”
Subimol’s eyes fluttered closed. “You’re both… so good to me.” He was fading, the medication pulling him under.
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to his breathing even out. The moment he was asleep, the air in the room changed. It became charged, thick with a secret understanding. Sumu reached over, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of Moli’s arm, a deliberate, slow caress.
“We should let him rest,” Moli whispered, her body already humming with anticipation.
Sumu just nodded, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts beneath her blouse. He stood, his erection already evident in his tight jeans. Moli’s mouth went dry.
Subimol lay in the bed, a network of tubes and wires tethering him to the beeping, blinking machines that kept him company. His face was pale, a patchwork of bruises fading to a sickly yellow at the edges. His eyes, when they opened, were cloudy with pain and medication.
“You’re here,” he breathed, the words a dry rustle.
“Of course we are,” Moli said, setting her purse down. She leaned over to kiss his forehead, her large breasts brushing against his arm. She caught Sumu watching the movement, his dark eyes hungry. She straightened up, a flush warming her neck.
“How are you feeling today?” Sumu asked, pulling a chair close to the bed. His knee bumped against Moli’s as she sat, and they let the contact linger for a moment too long.
“The doctors say… the internal bleeding has stopped. For now.” Subimol winced as he shifted. “It’s a waiting game. They say I’m not out of the woods.”
“But you’re a fighter,” Moli said, her voice soft. She reached out and smoothed the hair back from his brow, her wedding band catching the fluorescent light. A symbol of everything she was betraying just a few feet away.
“I have to be,” Subimol whispered. He turned his head slowly, his gaze settling on Sumu. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, son. Looking after Moli. Holding everything together at the house. It means… everything.”
Sumu’s jaw tightened. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Subimol insisted, his voice gaining a fragment of strength. “I lie here, and my only peace is knowing you’re there for her. That she’s not alone.”
Moli let her hand fall from Subimol’s hair to his shoulder, her fingers tracing idle circles on the hospital gown. She looked directly at Sumu, her eyes dark and knowing. “Oh, he’s been incredibly attentive, Bimol. Really. I’ve never felt so… looked after.”
Sumu held her gaze, a slow, dangerous smile playing on his lips. “I’m just doing my duty. Making sure all your needs are met.”
“Every single one,” Moli purred, her voice dropping to a intimate register that was entirely inappropriate for the room. “He’s been very thorough. Especially in the evenings. When the house is quiet.”
Subimol nodded, a feeble, grateful motion. “Good. That’s good. He’s a good boy.”
Moli had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the hysterical laugh that threatened to bubble up. A good boy. If only he knew. If only he could see the way Sumu’s “thorough” care involved pinning her against the wall of their hallway, his hand shoved into her panties before they’d even made it to the bedroom.
“He’s been sleeping in the guest room, of course,” Subimol continued, oblivious.
“Of course,” Sumu echoed, his eyes never leaving Moli’s. “But I often hear her… stirring. Restless. So I check on her. Make sure she’s comfortable.”
“He’s very good at comforting me,” Moli said, her voice thick. She let her foot slide forward under the bed until the tip of her shoe connected with Sumu’s ankle. She pressed down. “He knows exactly how to… ease the tension. He finds all the right spots.”
Subimol’s eyes fluttered closed. “You’re both… so good to me.” He was fading, the medication pulling him under.
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to his breathing even out. The moment he was asleep, the air in the room changed. It became charged, thick with a secret understanding. Sumu reached over, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of Moli’s arm, a deliberate, slow caress.
“We should let him rest,” Moli whispered, her body already humming with anticipation.
Sumu just nodded, his gaze dropping to the swell of her breasts beneath her blouse. He stood, his erection already evident in his tight jeans. Moli’s mouth went dry.
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