A woman. A hospital room. A marriage coming undone.

In Singapore, an ambitious, emotionally depleted expatriate mother checks her barely ill daughter into an upscale hospital—not out of medical necessity, but as a quiet, desperate act of self-preservation. For two nights, in the stillness of white sheets and fluorescent light, she finally breathes.

Her marriage is stable but sexless. Her career, stalled. Motherhood has become a performance she can no longer sustain—especially when she feels little love as a wife to a man untouched by desire.

In this raw, daring autofictive debut, Thammika Songkaeo explores what happens when a woman on the brink dares to confront the demons in her mind.

Set in Singapore but emotionally borderless, Stamford Hospital is a piercing portrait of burnout, resentment, and the silent rebellions that so often go unnoticed. This is a novel for anyone who has ever felt imprisoned by loneliness inside the very family they built.

'Dissecting motherhood, marriage, and the cost of selfhood with razor-sharp precision.' — Elle Singapore