She was like a magnet, drawing everyone in. Not once had Anuwat been able to tear his eyes away from this young doctor. Her beauty—from head to toe—captivated him every single time they met. Yet almost always, that fascination came bundled with irritation at the undeniable fact that she belonged to a brilliant young surgeon working at a rival hospital.
Anuwat parted ways with Dr. Prao Napa. She headed toward the internal medicine outpatient examination area while he took the elevator to the executive floor. The mature professor-doctor's sharp gaze lingered secretly on her back beneath the white coat. Her hair swayed gently with each step, and her smooth, fair calves peeked modestly from beneath the hem of her proper-length skirt.
Her attire adhered perfectly to medical dress code—not a hint of exposure—yet Anuwat's keen eyes perceived the flawless perfection hidden beneath those modest garments. Not only was her face sweetly beautiful, like May honey, but her figure possessed breathtaking curves concealed under prim clothing. And her skin—flawlessly fair and smooth, the unmistakable mark of a true high-society lady.
Now just past fifty, Anuwat still burned with desire. A lifelong playboy since his younger days, he was the polar opposite of Teerapat. Though married with a family, he never stopped wielding his successful-man charm to seek pleasures outside the home. With features still handsome and an attractive mature kindness, he remained magnetic.
His conquests ranged from female doctors, nurses, hospital staff, suppliers, to medical equipment sales reps—most willingly offering themselves in exchange for favors. Some simply enjoyed the thrill of closeness to a powerful man who controlled a multi-billion-baht hospital empire.
Anuwat vividly remembered the day he first saw Dr. Prao Napa—a moment that stopped him in his tracks—at an international medical seminar in Bangkok Medical's grand conference hall.
Freshly graduated, full of fire and confidence, she had presented as a resident. Her clear voice delivering medical data, combined with bright, knowledgeable eyes shining with pure idealism, strangely stirred the heart of a man who had known countless women.
This one is different… unlike anyone else, he thought.
After the seminar, Anuwat approached her himself, smiling like a benevolent elder, praising her presentation. He sensed only respect and polite reserve in her eyes—no trace of invitation like some women he'd known. Her smile was genuine, not flattering for gain.
That only made him want her more.
Soon after, he pulled every string to recruit her—offering a salary several times higher than elsewhere and a secure position in internal medicine. Whatever it takes… get her close first, he told himself.
He succeeded. Prao Napa accepted. Seeing her in his hospital's coat under his oversight filled him with satisfaction; for a while, other women faded from his mind.
But it all crumbled quickly. Mere months later, news of her lightning marriage to Dr. Teerapat Kulnarat—the rising surgical star at a rival hospital—shocked the medical community. The announcement infuriated Anuwat like nothing before.
Why… why did it have to be Dr. Teer?
Teerapat: forty, god-level surgical skill, and the perfect gentleman in everyone's eyes. It felt like a slap in the face—that the woman he desired most had fallen into the arms of a younger rival over whom he held no leverage.
Since then, outwardly he remained politely smiling toward Dr. Prao, but inwardly he quietly plotted. Because nothing Anuwat truly wanted had ever escaped him.
Meanwhile, Dr. Prao Napa settled into the afternoon outpatient clinic, treating a steady stream of chronic cases—hypertension, diabetes, high cholesterol—without pause.
She spoke to patients in her usual soft, clear, gentle tone, her beautiful face adorned with constant smiles that eased the tension of long waits.
When the file reached an elderly male patient in his sixties, she noticed him enter unsteadily, slightly off balance.
"What brings you in today, Uncle?" Dr. Prao asked kindly, standing to help the middle-aged man safely into the chair.
"Dizziness, Doctor. The room spins, I feel foggy—like I might fall," the uncle grumbled, clutching his temple.
Prao Napa probed thoroughly—history, comorbidities, medications, daily habits—then performed a basic physical. She frowned slightly.
"Possibly neurological or inner ear," she murmured. "Uncle, please wait a moment. I'll consult ENT for an additional check."
She noted it in the chart and called the department via internal line.
Soon the door opened, revealing the tall, lean figure of Dr. Wasan Phatrakarn—or Dr. San—ENT specialist with a bright future and unmatched skill in his field.
But among residents, he was also known for blunt, often sarcastic speech.
"Calling me for another vertigo case, Dr. Prao?" his deep voice carried a subtle jab, accompanied by a smile that wasn't entirely sincere.
Prao Napa turned politely. "Yes. This uncle has acute dizziness. I'd like you to perform the Dix-Hallpike and assess the inner ear further."
Dr. San raised an eyebrow as if to say, Can't you diagnose something this basic yourself? But he examined the patient methodically—quick technical questions, head maneuvers—then nodded.
"BPPV—benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. Fluid imbalance in the ear. Nothing serious." He turned to Prao Napa. "Honestly, with a more thorough exam, you probably could have diagnosed it yourself."
The words sounded instructional but carried mockery. Prao Napa offered a faint smile and replied courteously.
"Thank you so much for confirming. It helps ensure we don't miss anything."
Her gentle, non-confrontational tone momentarily threw Dr. San off. He should have felt satisfied with the dig, yet he felt irritated that she remained unfazed.
The relieved patient left with treatment advice, leaving only Dr. San's complex gaze lingering on Prao Napa—admiration mixed with prejudice.
Dr. San never admitted it, but deep down, what truly irked him about her wasn't lack of skill. It was how effortlessly she earned admiration from patients and colleagues—something he had to fight tooth and nail for.
And the reason for her popularity? Nothing more than her looks, he believed. It infuriated him every time elderly patients beamed and spoke sweetly to her, or male colleagues found excuses to chat in the doctors' lounge. No matter how exhaustively he explained medical details, he never received the same warm smiles or admiring glances.
Yet ironically—he wasn't immune to her charm either. Many times he caught himself staring at her soft, sweet face, especially when she focused intently on a patient: composed, confident, yet gentle. It made his heart twitch in a way he refused to acknowledge.
He was drawn to her, yet hated that feeling with every fiber.
It felt like something squeezing his chest—her beauty a magnet pulling everyone in, but for him, a knife slicing his pride each time she was praised.
So instead of admitting he was captivated by her overwhelming allure, Dr. San masked it with cold demeanor, cutting remarks, and bias. But he knew he could never truly escape her radiant glow.