Episode 5: Glass Walls, Quiet Wars

🌿 Episode 5: “Glass Walls, Quiet Wars”*

(Setting: Suwichan Group HQ – Executive Floor)

Theme: Freya officially steps into power. Not everyone’s happy. But Eirawan makes one thing clear — no one undermines her wife and walks away untouched.

The executive floor of Suwichan Group HQ was unlike any typical corporate office. No cubicles. No noise. Just glass — thick, tinted, and expensive. Frosted nameplates on every door. Clean, polished lines. Controlled elegance.

Freya stepped out of the elevator at precisely 9:00 a.m.

Tailored beige pantsuit. Ivory blouse. Low heels. Her hair was pinned in a soft twist. Minimal makeup. Everything carefully curated to reflect calm strength — just enough softness to stay true to herself, just enough edge to keep the whispers at bay.

The whispers still came.

“Is she just a figurehead?”

“She’s beautiful, yes — but what does she do?”

“Nepotism in silk.”

Freya heard them in passing.

She didn’t flinch.

Because she had prepared. And because she remembered Eirawan’s words:

“You don’t have to prove your worth to them. But if you choose to, do it once. Cleanly. Let them never forget it.”

Her new office overlooked the skyline — same floor as Eirawan, but opposite wing. Separate domains. Still equal in name.

But everyone knew who ruled the floor.

And many didn’t believe Freya deserved to walk it.

That morning, she sat for her first departmental strategic meeting — branding directors, regional PR heads, two investors, and one senior VP who had been in the company since Eirawan was in high school.

Freya entered, nodded calmly, and took the seat at the head of the conference table.

Nobody offered it.

She claimed it.

The VP — Khun Chanon — cleared his throat.

“With respect,” he said, smiling like a crocodile, “Khun Freya, we weren’t informed that you’d be leading today’s session.”

Freya returned the smile. “I wasn’t informed I needed permission.”

The room froze.

He chuckled. “Of course. Just unexpected.”

Freya tapped her tablet once. “Then I hope my ideas are more palatable than my presence.”

She presented. Clean. Focused. Her voice didn’t waver once.

But the tension built. Polite resistance. Undermining questions.

“Have you worked with legacy market segmentation?”

“Is this campaign more aesthetic than measurable?”

“Are you aware that Suwichan’s tone has always been conservative?”

Freya held her ground.

Until Khun Chanon leaned back, folding his arms.

“Khun Eirawan’s approach has always been discipline over disruption. Perhaps this kind of strategy would fit better in a smaller division first?”

There it was.

The veiled suggestion that she was out of place.

Freya held her breath.

And then, a voice cut through the speaker mounted on the wall.

Calm. Lethal.

“It’s already approved.”

Everyone turned.

The voice came from the intercom.

Eirawan.

“If anyone in that room needs clarity — Freya Piriyakorn has my full executive authority over branding for Q3 and Q4.”

A pause.

“Anyone with objections can speak with me. Alone. Behind a locked door.”

Dead silence.

Freya didn’t speak. She didn’t smile. She simply looked at Khun Chanon and closed her tablet.

Meeting: adjourned.

—

Later that evening, Freya walked quietly into Eirawan’s office.

The room was all dark wood, cream accents, and glass. Minimalist. Untouched by emotion.

Except for a small silver orchid on her desk.

And the woman sitting behind it, still in her tailored black.

“You were listening?” Freya asked.

“I listen to all department meetings,” Eirawan replied coolly.

Freya raised a brow. “Do you interrupt all of them too?”

Eirawan leaned back. “Only the ones where someone underestimates what belongs to me.”

Freya didn’t know how to reply.

There was something dangerous in the way Eirawan said mine. Something unshakable.

“People won’t respect me if you fight for me every time,” she said softly.

“I didn’t fight for you,” Eirawan replied. “I reminded them whose house they’re standing in.”

Then — a silence.

Eirawan stood. Walked around the desk. Stopped just in front of Freya.

They were close. Close enough to touch, but didn’t.

“I didn’t choose you for softness, Freya. I chose you because softness isn’t weakness — and they’ve forgotten that.”

Freya’s breath hitched.

Her voice was barely audible. “Do you ever get tired of being the shield?”

Eirawan’s reply came without hesitation.

“Not when you’re behind me.”

And finally, in a rare moment — she reached out.

Her thumb brushed softly under Freya’s eye, as if checking for a tear that hadn’t fallen.

Freya didn’t cry.

But her heart did something strange.

It cracked.

Opened.

Let her in.

—

That night, Freya found a note on her desk before she left:

“Don’t let them turn you into me. The world only needs one cold-blooded Suwichan. You — be fire. That’s what they’ll never expect.”

— E

Freya smiled.

She wouldn’t forget that.

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