The More Costly, the More Worthy
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Vishpan asked Kangsadan to meet him at the small food shop near his office building, the same place where he had already paid for her meal twice.
"Ah… this lemon green tea…" Kangsadan was still lost in thought about last night's LINE message, when suddenly a tall plastic cup was thrust in front of her face.
"Don't you even have a plastic bag for it?" she frowned.
"If you don't want it, I'll just pour it on you this time."
"What?!" She shot up from her seat, glaring at him. The moment he moved as if, to actually do it, she leapt aside in alarm.
"What kind of nonsense is this teasing?!" Her voice was so loud that the shop owner glanced over. The place was nearly closed, leaving only the two of them inside.
"I'm not joking. I mean it," Vishpan said firmly, urging her to take the drink.
"I don't want it…" Kangsadan murmured softly.
"Why not? Don't you want to be beautiful?" he still argued stubbornly. She wondered if he truly believed a glass of lemon green tea could make someone instantly more beautiful.
"Sir, Mr. Vice President. I'm not amused." Her voice was quiet but steady.
"You're definitely amusing," he countered—and before she could stop him, he tipped the drink over her shoulder. Kangsadan's eyes blazed at the sticky mess staining her clothes.
"You're the one who taught me in the meeting the other day that I should respect others… yet you don't do it yourself." Her lips trembled; she looked as though she might cry.
Vishpan said nothing. Instead, he seized her wrist and pulled her out toward his waiting car. Without explanation, he instructed the driver to head straight to the bridal studio she had visited earlier with Rinya.
"Auntie, I've brought her to try on a gown," he announced upon entering. He immediately asked the assistant to fetch the very dress Kangsadan had admired in the display case and have her put it on.
"Oh! So, she's the young lady who came with the other one that day. If I'd known, I would have measured her then and saved us time!" the shop owner exclaimed.
Kangsadan froze. So, he hunted for brides here—just like that?
"I don't understand you. What kind of game is this?" she snapped at him, demanding answers.
"Kangsadan, this is Auntie Uma—my father's cousin," Vishpan introduced her calmly. The woman was around sixty, still elegant and striking.
"My dear, don't talk like that. We're only trying to help each other," Uma said gently, taking Kangsadan aside to speak in private.
"Don't accuse us of scheming to trick you," she pleaded.
"Then explain it. I don't understand what's going on." Kangsadan frowned.
"Vishpan has fallen into his grandmother's trap. The stress even landed him in the hospital," Uma explained casually.
"And now, with his father's health failing, he's being pressed to marry quickly."
"Why?!" Kangsadan couldn't comprehend it.
"His condition worsens under pressure," Uma said with real concern.
"Then find him another bride," Kangsadan retorted.
"Not so simple. He doesn't want anyone permanent in his life." Uma fixed her eyes on the girl.
"He… doesn't like women, does he?" Kangsadan blurted out, baffled by his behavior.
"It isn't what you think," Uma answered softly.
"Then what is it?"
"You'll discover the truth yourself if you become his wife," Uma said, unwilling to reveal more.
Kangsadan changed out of her soiled clothes, and Uma helped her into one of the studio's gowns, selecting an outfit that would please her nephew's plan.
Vishpan's eyes lingered as he said, "My father will be glad—my bride is beautiful."
"Why won't you just tell me the truth? You're insulting me," Kangsadan snapped.
"Enough. Let's eat." His voice carried a weary edge.
At dinner, Kangsadan watched him with disbelief as he snapped photos of the dishes—and of her—urging her to smile.
"Tell me," she asked suddenly, "Do you even like this? In the future, will your family be happy to watch us break apart?"
"Would you rather be a widow?" he shot back.
"And you? Do you want to be a rich widower, surrounded by admirers?"
"Well, at least you'd keep your virginity. Isn't that something?" His bluntness left her stunned.
"Sir… are you trying to take revenge on me?"
"Maybe. So what?" His eyes locked unflinchingly on hers.
"You're handsome, Mr. Vice President. Do you like men… or women?" she dared to ask, refusing to look away.
"Don't force me to answer. You won't like what you hear."
She swallowed. "Of course not."
"I paid you three million baht—on one condition."
"And that is?"
"You must look after my father."
"Like a servant? Or… something else?" she asked in shame.
"Don't read too much into it. I haven't said anything more," he sighed.
On Sunday, Vishpan sent his driver to escort Kangsadan and her grandmother to a Chinese restaurant near Uma's studio. The girl helped her grandmother into the VIP room, where an elderly man in his seventies greeted them with a warm smile.
Prapan, Vishpan's father, rose to help the old woman into her chair while the driver pulled out another chair for the young girl.
"Bring me the bag from the backseat," Prapan ordered, and the driver bowed to obey.
"How do you do, Mr. President?" Lamduan, Kangsadan's grandmother greeted politely. Prapan gestured for Kangsadan to sit beside her.
"I am Prapan. Allow me to be direct," the old man said gravely. "Please give your granddaughter's hand in marriage to my son."
The grandmother's eyes brimmed with tears. "She is so young, still innocent… please, have sympathy for her."
"She will stay at our home. Do you have any objections?" Prapan asked carefully.
"I've raised her since she was little. If she can return home now and then, I won't be so lonely."
"Then you should move in with us as well. Wouldn't that be better?" Prapan offered.
"Would it trouble your household?" the grandmother asked hesitantly.
"Not at all. In fact, I insisted on it. I couldn't bear to see you alone," Vishpan smiled gently at her.
"At the end of this month, we'll hold a small ceremony at our home—only family. Will that be acceptable?" Prapan pressed forward with the decision.
"So soon? Kangsan hasn't even finished her studies," Grandma gasped.
"Grandma," Kangsadan explained, "I'll submit my evaluation results next week. Once approved by the faculty, I'll be done."
"And you won't need to attend classes anymore?"
"No. Only follow-up paperwork. The company already evaluated me as passing the internship."
"What a relief! I thought you'd still have another semester," Grandma said, comforted.
"If I hadn't passed, then yes. But luckily, I did." The girl glanced briefly at Vishpan, who seemed smug about the favor she owed.
Prapan handed Grandma Lamduan a sealed envelope. She looked at it with suspicion.
"What is this?"
"Dowry," Prapan said plainly, before turning his gaze to his son.
"I'm sorry we cannot host a grand wedding. I must leave for abroad immediately afterward. Please forgive the haste."
"No matter. I prefer it simple. We have few relatives anyway—Kangsadan's father was an only child."
"Then let us celebrate with lunch," Prapan signaled the waiters to serve.
That evening, after Vishpan's car dropped them home, he lingered to speak privately with Grandma late into the night, gauging her thoughts.
When Kangsadan walked him out to his car, she whispered harshly, "You frightened her!"
"What did I do?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Sir, Mr. Vice President—when she opened that envelope, her heart nearly stopped."
"I don't understand."
"She must be cursing me. It's as though her granddaughter were selling herself," she said timidly.
"And who said it isn't?" His deep voice cut into her like a blade.
"What?!" She stared at him in shock.
"You are a very costly bride. And isn't it worth drawing out every ounce of your worth?"