Renee met his eyes. “You’d judge me for making the wrong decision, though.”
Ket Siong looked back steadily. Part of him wanted to reassure her, tell her it would make no difference to him what she did.
In a way, it was true. There was nothing he or Renee or anyone could do to change how he felt about her. That was one lesson he’d finally learnt, even if it had taken him ten years. But it wasn’t an answer to what she’d said.
“No more than you’d judge yourself,” he said.
“You don’t understand,” said Renee. “Your family’s different. You know what mine’s like. If I make the call you think I should make, I piss off my dad, my brother—”
“You’re not afraid of that.”
“Not afraid. No.” Renee swallowed. Ket Siong saw, to his horror, that she was fighting back tears.
“I’m sick of it,” she said, her voice ragged. “I’m sick of being the outcast. I’m sick of always being in the wrong. This is the first time I’ve gone so long without fighting with Su Khoon. He offered to buy me dinner this evening, of his own free will. You were the one who said it’s natural to want to have a good relationship with my family. Why are you making me choose?”
His heart ached for her. “I’m not trying to make you choose.”
“So you’d be fine, whatever I decided?” snapped Renee. “Even if I told you we pitched Freshview and won the deal?”
“You keep saying ‘we,’” said Ket Siong. “But you are not Chahaya. You are not your father. You are the decisions that youmake. I would not tell your father or your brother what I’ve told you.”
“How do you know I won’t tell Dad?” said Renee bitterly. “I could tell him he needs to warn Uncle Low there’s a PR storm brewing. Win some brownie points that way.”
Ket Siong was getting annoyed. There was no need for Renee to make out that she was worse than she was. It verged on self-indulgence, given the seriousness of what he’d revealed.
But love and pity tugged him the other way. He’d put Renee in a difficult position, and picked the worst possible time to do it. It was impossible not to see her point of view.
“I haven’t gone about this the right way,” he said. “Give it time. You aren’t seeing clearly right now. When you’ve had a chance to think…”
“No.” Renee looked around the restaurant, desolate, like someone who had woken from a dream to find themselves abandoned, surrounded by strangers. “I’m seeing clearly now, for the first time.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got an early start tomorrow. You stay here and finish your dinner.”
“Renee…”
“You should get them to pack mine up. Don’t want it to go to waste,” said Renee. Her cordiality was implacable. Behind it, she’d absented herself. She rummaged in her bag, producing her phone. “She said we could pay by QR code, right?”
“You said I could pay,” protested Ket Siong.
Renee wiped her eyes, as though she hadn’t noticed they were wet. “Right. I did say that.”
She let him cover their dinner with troubling docility, making no objection when Ket Siong said he would leave with her. The waitress took one look at them and refrained from making any comment on the fact she was packing up two untouched bowls of ramen.
He trailed Renee out onto the street, the bowls of soup—nolonger even warm—knocking against his outer thigh. He was trying to think of something to say to hold off the conclusion the waitress had read in their faces.
There was one moment of hope, one moment when it might have gone either way. Outside, Renee paused, lifting her face to the night sky and the lights strung between the shops. She said:
“I’m sorry about your friend. I should have said that earlier.”
She wouldn’t look at him, but her sincerity could not be doubted.
“Renee,” said Ket Siong. “I didn’t mean…”
But what could he say? He’d thought it right to tell her what he knew. Which meant he had intended to upset her. If she had not been upset by what he’d had to tell her, she would not be the person he knew her to be.
Renee had made up her mind, anyway.
“I don’t think we should see each other again,” she said. “Good night, Ket Siong.”
Before he could answer, she turned and walked away, with a ruthless, unhurried step—as graceful as ever, every movement perfectly judged.
