7- Least Expected

Bottles of wine and bags of food littered the tile floor, scattered near Saroath's photograph, as Dara lay sleeping, tears staining his cheeks. The weight of sorrow pressed heavily on him, his heart aching for his mother. 

He couldn't remember how many days had passed, his body frail and worn, dark circles beneath his eyes, breath shallow. 

The soft patter of rain against the roof stirred something within him, and he turned his head toward the window, as if the world beyond might offer some solace.

His phone buzzed faintly, the light flickering before fading to darkness—a sign of the battery's death. Dara stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he remained seated on the floor, gathering his thoughts, feeling the weight of stillness around him.

The rain had stopped, and evening began to settle, casting a muted glow over the streets. Dara rode in the back of a Tuk Tuk, the city blurring past him as he neared his destination. 

When they finally stopped, he paid the driver, his movements slow and deliberate. Stepping out, he made his way toward the bridge, each step heavy with purpose.

He paused at the edge, the city skyline stretching before him, its lights flickering like distant stars. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to absorb the view, then shut his eyes. Just as he gathered the courage to leap, his phone rang.

Frustrated, Dara paused, running a hand through his hair. He pulled out his phone, eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar number flashing on the screen. Reluctantly, he answered.

As he picked up the phone, a woman's voice greeted him, smooth and professional. 

"Good evening!"

"Hello," Dara replied flatly, his voice edged with impatience.

"I'm Chanida. I've tried calling you a few times, but you didn't answer."

Dara's irritation flared. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?"

"I am calling from insurance com…"

And the words that followed—an offer from the insurance company—only deepened his irritation. 

With a snarl, Dara hurled the phone away, watching it skid across the ground. But as the anger subsided, a strange unease crept over him. 

Something felt off. He hesitated, then slowly turned, deciding it was time to retreat.

He picked up his phone from the ground, its cracked screen glinting in the dim light.

He opened the Tuk Tuk app, quickly booking a ride. The journey back home felt long, but once there, he stopped at a nearby mart. He picked up a few bottles of alcohol and a handful of snacks, his mind already drifting to what awaited him at home.

Later that dusk as Dara sat alone in his quiet home, his phone suddenly rang. It had been ages since he'd received any calls, so he assumed it was just the insurance company again. 

"What now?" he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Even if he bought the insurance, who would benefit from the payout? In his mind, the case would be worthless if he ended it all. He didn't need their calls, and so he chose to ignore the phone, letting it ring unanswered.

A moment later, the phone rang again. Dara picked it up, ready to scold the caller. What kind of company calls at this hour? It had to be a scam. 

"What? Damn it, why do you keep calling? Are you that bored?"

But through his frustration, a woman on the other end struggled to speak, despite Dara's relentless chatter.

"Sorry, sir, I think you're misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding what?"

"Please, just listen to me!"

"..."

"I'm calling from LKS Insurance Company."

"I knew it."

"Are you Leng Youngdara?"

"Yes, I am."

"Your mother, Mrs. Kong Saroath, right?"

"Yes."

"She took out life insurance with us, and now you're the beneficiary."

"But my mother is…"

The female caller lowered her voice, urging him to think this through carefully.

"According to the police report I obtained, Mrs. Saraoth might be murdered."

It hit Dara like a blow. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to speak.

"Hello? Hello?" Chanida called out, her voice growing frantic, but Dara remained frozen, caught in the grip of shock.

"Hello?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I meant... how... no, did my mom—you're saying she was murdered? She didn't... end her own life?" Dara cried, his voice trembling with disbelief.

The lady seemed to understand Dara's anguish. Her voice softened as she spoke through the phone.

"According to the police report I received exclusively, it suggests there's something to prove, though no solid evidence has surfaced yet. You might need to dig deeper. I'm just telling you this to keep it in mind."

"Exclusively? How? How can I meet you? I need to know more about this."

"Well, I'm no expert on that side, but I think you should reach out to the local police for more details."

"You mentioned you got it exclusively. Which police officer gave you this information? I need to meet him first. Please, let me know."

"Alright, I get it. But the case will be closed soon. Just so you know, what I've shared with you isn't exactly a favor."

"Oh… alright, no worries. Let me meet someone, and I'll be sure to thank you for sharing this with me."

"That's fine!"

"Forgive me, what was your name again?"

"Chanida. Ann Chanida."

"Miss Nida, let me know when and where we can meet!"

---

Dara ended his call with Chanida, rising to his feet. His posture stiffened, his face hardening into an unreadable mask. The weight of his decision settled within him—he would uncover the truth behind his mother's death. 

A single tear slipped down his cheek as his voice cracked with sorrow and resolve.

"Mom, who hurt you? I'm sorry... I judged you wrong, thought you abandoned me. I blamed Dad for your death. But now... I will make the killer pay."

He stepped into his mother's room, the silence heavy with memories. His eyes scanned the space, searching for something—anything—that might help him in his quest for answers. 

He approached her desk, his fingers trembling as he opened a folder. The pages inside were filled with accountancy records, numbers and figures that seemed meaningless at first glance. 

But something nagged at him, an instinct that told him this could be more than just mundane paperwork. He sifted through the documents, his mind racing, hoping to uncover the clue that would bring him closer to the truth.

Dara's gaze tightened as he flipped through the pages. The documents revealed a meticulous record of his mother's business—a currency exchange operation. 

Lists of income and expenses filled the pages, but it was the names of the people who had borrowed money from her that also caught his attention.

As he sifted through more documents, a particular folder caught his eye — LKS Insurance Company, Saroath used to mention it but Dara seemed to forget it. Almost five years prior, Kong Saroath had indeed purchased life insurance, but the contact listed wasn't Chanida's name. But that is fine and for now, it was enough.