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Wednesday 30 September 2026 08:36:23 GMT
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​Bam kept her gaze fixed on the empty driveway for a beat before slowly turning her head down toward Oom.  Her expression was completely devoid of emotion, her voice dropping into a low, quiet hum. ​
​Bam kept her gaze fixed on the empty driveway for a beat before slowly turning her head down toward Oom. Her expression was completely devoid of emotion, her voice dropping into a low, quiet hum. ​"Is he really a close friend?" Bam asked flatly. ​Oom lowered her head slightly, her fingers tightening against the hem of her jacket. "Ice is someone I've known for a long time, Bam. We have a lot of history together." ​"History," Bam repeated softly. It wasn't a question, but a quiet, painful confirmation that echoed in her chest. ​Bam took a subtle step back, creating a cool distance between them. She picked up her folder of papers from the teak table, her face returning to its impenetrable, stoic mask. ​"You have estate duties to oversee, Oom," Bam said smoothly, her tone turning impeccably polite and professional. "Do not let my presence disrupt your afternoon work." ​"Bam, wait." ​"I will be in the villa reviewing graduate proposals," Bam interrupted softly, turning toward the double glass doors. "Take all the time you need." ​Bam stepped inside the villa, leaving Oom standing alone on the wooden deck in the quiet afternoon air. ​For the rest of the afternoon, Bam remained inside the quiet sanctuary of the timber villa. ​She sat at the heavy oak dining table, draped in black, her laptop open and graduate essays spread neatly around her. To anyone looking in, Dr. Bam Saralee was completely absorbed in her academic work. But her eyes remained fixed on the same paragraph for twenty minutes, her long fingers gripping her Montblanc pen so tightly her knuckles turned white. ​Meanwhile, down by the secondary pastures near the lower stable line, Oom was attempting to focus on her estate rounds. ​She stood near the wooden fencing while Tate checked the hardware, but her mind was completely fragmented. Her eyes kept darting back toward the distant villa where Bam’s silhouette remained still against the window, cold and withdrawn. ​"P'Oom," Tate's voice called out gently. ​Oom snapped her head around. "What? Sorry, Tate." ​"I said the south gate latch is fixed," Tate murmured, looking at her with quiet sympathy. "You haven't heard a word I've said for the last hour." ​Before Oom could answer, the crunch of gravel behind the stables signaled an arriving vehicle. ​Ice walked around the corner of the wooden barn, his jacket off, his face serious and set in a tight line. He glanced at Tate, then looked straight at Oom. ​"Tate, give us a minute," Oom requested softly. ​Tate nodded quietly, gathering his clipboard and walking off toward the main tack room, leaving the two of them alone under the shade of the tall oak trees. ​Ice stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms as his intense gaze searched Oom's face. ​"What was that up there, Oom?" Ice confronted her directly, his voice tight with rising frustration. "Why wasn't I informed about any of this? Why didn't you tell me you were cohabiting with someone else under your family's orders?" ​"Ice, things happened so fast while you were in Tokyo," Oom explained, her voice trembling slightly. "The families came together. My grandmother and the Saralees arranged a match. It was a critical time for our estate's financial backing." ​#oombam #bamsaralee #oomeisaya #austory #aurecommendation

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