The Glimpse Of Us

The sunset stretched lazily across the sky, its warm hues bleeding into the rippling lake below. Orm sat on the wooden bridge, her legs dangling over the edge, watching as the last bit of light clung to the water's surface.

The air carried a lingering scent—sweet, delicate, familiar. It stirred something deep in her memory, just out of reach.

Hydrangeas.

She had seen them before. Somewhere.

Orm inhaled deeply, letting the crisp evening air fill her lungs, carrying with it the delicate scent of flowers—pushing the thought away. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

She wrapped her arms around herself, letting out a slow breath before pulling her hoodie tighter, as if it could shield her from everything weighing on her mind.

It had been three weeks since Ayla disappeared from the world. The idol, the performer, the name that filled stadiums and screens. No cameras, no fans, no managers hovering with packed schedules—just Orm. Just a girl in an old rental car, chasing an escape she couldn't quite name, until it led her here—to The Purple Hydrangeas, a small resort tucked away in Kalasin.

At first, she had no idea what she was looking for. Maybe an escape, maybe clarity. But now, sitting here with the wooden planks firm beneath her and the soft rustling of trees in the distance, she wondered if this was enough. Just being.

Eventually, she'd have to go back. But not today.

Tomorrow, she'd wake up, borrow one of the resort's bicycles, and do absolutely nothing important.

That was the plan.

***

Orm wasn't much of a morning person, but waking up to the soft hum of birds and the rustling of trees made it a little easier. She stretched lazily, Uni—her fluffy yellow Pomeranian—stirring beside her before letting out a sleepy yawn.

"C'mon, Uni," Orm murmured, scratching behind her ears before sliding out of bed.

She pulled on her hoodie—out of habit more than necessity—and grabbed a bicycle from the small rental shed near the main building. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh greenery as she pedaled along the winding wooden bridge that spiraled across the lake.

It was nice. Quiet. The kind of quiet that made her thoughts slow down.

Orm picked up speed, enjoying the wind against her skin. Maybe she should stay longer. Another week wouldn't hurt—

A sharp turn. A shadow she hadn't noticed before. A split second of panic.

She swerved, but it was too late.

The impact sent her off balance, and before she knew it, she was tumbling off the bike, hitting the wooden planks hard.

"Shit," she groaned, pushing herself up.

Then she saw her.

A woman sat on the ground a few feet away, long black hair spilling over her shoulders, an upturned coffee cup next to her. She looked composed despite the collision, her fingers lightly resting against the bridge railing.

Orm scrambled to her feet, rushing over. "I—oh my god, are you okay?"

The woman exhaled slowly, her fingers curling against the wood as if steadying herself.

"You hit me," she stated, voice calm but firm.

Orm winced. "Yeah. Yeah, I did. I'm really sorry. I wasn't—" She paused, eyes scanning the woman's face. Something about the way she wasn't looking directly at her... The way her fingers subtly traced the railing—

Realization struck.

She was blind.

Panic surged through Orm's chest. She had just run over a blind woman.

"Oh my god," she repeated, her voice an octave higher. "I—do you need help? Should I—"

The woman let out a small sigh, tilting her head slightly. "If you're done panicking, I think my ankle might be injured."

Right. Injuries. She needed to focus.

Orm crouched down carefully, Uni circling her feet. She hesitated before placing a hand near the woman's right ankle. "Okay, um, let me check—"

As soon as her fingers lightly brushed against it, the woman sucked in a sharp breath, a quiet groan slipping past her lips.

Orm immediately froze. "Shit, sorry—does it hurt a lot?"

The woman exhaled through her nose, as if trying to compose herself. "It's... not great."

Orm's movements became even more careful, her fingertips barely grazing the fabric of the woman's pants as she tried to assess the injury without causing more pain. "Okay, okay... I won't press too hard," she murmured.

The woman, still wincing slightly, pulled back just a little. "Who are you?"

Orm hesitated.

She couldn't just introduce herself as Ayla, the world-famous idol. That would make things complicated. And honestly, she wasn't in the mood to deal with any of that right now.

So she said the first thing that came to mind.

"Orm," she answered quickly.

Silence.

The woman stilled. Even through the soft morning light, Orm noticed the slight shift in her expression—an unreadable tension, as if she were processing something.

Then, barely above a whisper—

"Orm Kornnaphat?"

Orm blinked. "...Yes?"

A pause.

Then, the woman exhaled, her voice edged with something quiet, something unreadable.

"...I see."

Of all places... the universe really has a strange sense of humor.

***

Pain throbbed through Lingling's ankle, sharp and insistent, but it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the voice.

That voice.

She'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Orm Kornnaphat?"

She hadn't meant to say it out loud. The name had slipped from her lips before she could stop it—low, uncertain. And in the moment of silence that followed, Lingling could almost picture the way Orm blinked, taken aback.

"...Yes?"

Lingling exhaled slowly, fingers curling slightly against the wooden bridge. Of course. Of course it was her.

She hadn't expected this. Not here. Not like this.

She had never met Orm in person before, but that voice—it was impossible not to recognize. It was the voice that had dominated airwaves, the voice that millions adored, the voice that had turned Ayla into a household name.

And now, it was right here. Close enough that Lingling could hear the faint hitch in Orm's breath, the subtle tension beneath the casual words.

How ridiculous.

She hadn't even considered the possibility of running into someone like Orm Kornnaphat, aka Ayla, the National Idol, in a place like this—let alone in such an absurd situation.

"You're... still here?" she asked finally, her voice carefully neutral.

Orm shifted beside her. "Uh. Yeah. I mean, I was just—" She cut herself off with a sigh, then refocused. "Look, we need to get you to a hospital. Can you stand?"

Lingling wanted to brush it off, to say she was fine. But the moment she tried to move, pain shot up her right ankle, forcing her to tighten her grip on the railing to steady herself.

Orm must have noticed because, before Lingling could protest, she moved closer.

"Here," Orm said, voice softer. "Let me help."

Lingling hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, she nodded.

"...Alright."

***

Getting into the taxi was its own ordeal.

Orm, as well-meaning as ever, was also as Orm as ever—flustered and uncoordinated.

"Okay, maybe if I—wait, no, that's not—alright, just—hold onto me—"

"Khun Orm," Lingling interrupted, already feeling exhausted. "Let me sit first."

"...Right. That makes sense."

After some awkward maneuvering (mostly on Orm's part), Lingling was finally seated, adjusting her injured leg carefully. Orm scrambled in beside her, quickly rattling off the hospital's name to the driver before exhaling in relief.

The taxi pulled away from the resort, and for the first time since the accident, silence settled between them.

Orm shifted uncomfortably, sneaking glances at Lingling before finally breaking the silence.

"...So," she started hesitantly. "What were you doing out there?"

Lingling turned her head slightly. "Drinking coffee."

"Oh." A pause. Then, awkwardly, "...Nice."

Lingling sighed. Orm was exactly how she presented herself.

***

The Hospital

The moment they arrived, Orm was back to being flustered.

"Wait—do you need a wheelchair? I should get one—no, you shouldn't walk—okay, I'll carry you—"

Lingling raised a hand, effectively stopping the rambling. "Just help me to the counter."

Orm blinked. "...Right. That works too."

With Orm supporting her, they made their way inside. The reception area was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning. A nurse at the front desk looked up and immediately smiled.

"Oh! Phi Lingling!"

Lingling let out a soft sigh. It seemed she wouldn't be able to slip through unnoticed after all.

"Good morning, Nong Nene," she said evenly. "My ankle is injured. I need a doctor."

Nurse Nene's expression shifted to concern as she quickly typed into the system. "Understood. We'll get you checked in right away." She hesitated. "Do you want me to contact anyone from the resort?"

Lingling shook her head. "That won't be necessary."

Nene hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Alright, Phi. I'll go prepare a room for you. Let me know if you need any help with the form."

Orm, still hovering anxiously, leaned in. "Are you sure you don't want—"

"I'm sure," Lingling interrupted, leaving no room for discussion.

Orm closed her mouth but still looked unconvinced.

A few minutes later, another nurse approached. "Miss Sirilak? Dr. Bow will see you now."

Lingling immediately recognized the name.

Dr. Bow.

Before she could dwell on it, a woman in a white coat approached, stopping just in front of her. There was the slightest pause—brief, almost imperceptible—before she spoke.

"Well," Dr. Bow said lightly, "this is unexpected."

Lingling arched a brow. "Is it?"

Dr. Bow let out a soft chuckle. "I might've heard you were in Kalasin, but I didn't expect our first meeting to be here of all places."

Lingling only hummed in response, giving nothing away.

Dr. Bow studied her for a beat before offering a small, knowing smile. "I'm glad to see you again."

Lingling inclined her head slightly. "Likewise."

The words were simple, polite—yet something lingered in the space between them, something unspoken that neither addressed.

Orm, hovering as usual, helped Lingling onto the examination table before stepping back.

Dr. Bow observed them briefly, then with a practiced ease, shifted gears. "Let's take a look at that ankle."

She got straight to work, carefully assessing the injury. After some movement tests and an X-ray, she confirmed the damage.

"It's a fracture," Dr Bow said finally. "Not severe, but you'll need to stay off it for a few weeks. I'll have Nurse Nene get you a walking boot and crutches."

Lingling nodded, already expecting as much. "Understood."

Beside her, Orm frowned. "Wait—so she can't walk properly for a few weeks?"

Dr. Bow turned to her, then back to Lingling, as if sensing something. "Correct."

Orm hesitated, then shifted on her feet. "But... she's alone, right? She doesn't have anyone staying with her?"

Nurse Nene glanced at Lingling. "She is."

Orm bit her lip, looking troubled.

Lingling sighed. She could already tell where this was going.

And sure enough—

"I'll take care of her," Orm blurted out.

Silence.

Lingling blinked. "Excuse me?"

Orm straightened, as if doubling down on the idea. "I mean—it's my fault this happened, right? So it's only fair that I help you until you recover."

Lingling faced her, half-expecting her to take it back.

She didn't.

Dr. Bow exchanged a glance with Nurse Nene, then sighed. "Well, Lingling, she's not entirely wrong. If you're alone, it'll be difficult to do even basic things for a while."

Lingling still didn't look convinced.

Lingling exhaled slowly. "Khun Orm."

Orm looked at her, earnest, determined, and maybe just a little bit stubborn.

"I'm serious," Orm said quietly. "Let me do this."

Lingling had every reason to say no.

Nurse Nene, however, chuckled softly. "Honestly, Phi Ling, you might as well let her. If she's anything like what I remember from the tabloids, she won't back down easily."

Orm flushed. "Wait—you know me?"

Nene gave her a pointed look. "You're the national idol, Ayla, a.k.a. Orm Kornnaphat. Of course I do."

Orm wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or embarrassed.

Lingling sighed again. Then, finally—

"Fine," she relented. "But only for a week."

Orm grinned. "Deal."

She had no idea what she had just signed up for.

But one week?

She could handle that.

Right?

***

The ride back was quieter than their first one. The initial chaos of the hospital had settled, leaving only the soft hum of the engine and the occasional bump in the road. Orm sat beside Lingling, still fidgeting slightly, as if unsure what to do with her hands now that she wasn't actively helping.

Lingling, on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease, leaning back with the practiced patience of someone well accustomed to letting silence fill a space.

Orm glanced at her, hesitated, then blurted out, "Wait. I never actually got your name."

Lingling turned slightly, her expression amused. "You mean after I recognized you immediately?"

Orm flushed. "That's—not the point."

Lingling let out a quiet chuckle, then extended a hand in Orm's general direction. "Lingling Sirilak Kwong." A small, almost imperceptible pause. Then, lightly, "I suppose now we're properly introduced."

Orm stared at her hand for a second before quickly shaking it.

"Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong," she said, despite knowing Lingling already knew.

Lingling hummed. "Yes. So I've heard."

Orm wasn't sure if she imagined the faint amusement laced in those words, but she had a feeling that with Lingling, she'd be second-guessing a lot of things.

"Did Uni behave while waiting?"

Orm glanced toward the front of the car, where Uni was curled up contentedly. "Of course. The driver was nice enough to let her stay with the AC on. She probably got a nice little nap in."

The taxi continued down the quiet road, and for the first time since they'd met, the silence between them felt... natural.

***

The ride to Lingling's house was quiet, save for the occasional directions she gave to the taxi driver.

Orm, however, was lost in thought.

She had spent the past few years building a life of constant movement—concerts, interviews, rehearsals, photoshoots. She was used to bright lights, grand hotels, and luxury dressing rooms. Even on this hiatus, she had only stayed in resorts, the kind where every detail was designed for comfort.

But the moment the taxi pulled up to Lingling's house, Orm felt something tug in her chest.

It was... small. A single-story wooden house, simple and unembellished. The kind that belonged in old family photo albums, untouched by time. The porch light cast a dim glow on the worn wooden steps, and there was an undeniable quietness to the place, as if it had long settled into solitude.

Clusters of hydrangeas lined the edges of the house, their petals pale in the low light, swaying gently in the evening breeze. The unexpected touch of color softened the loneliness of the scene, making the home feel less like a forgotten relic and more like something loved.

Orm swallowed.

She's blind. She's poor. She lives alone.

A wave of sympathy hit her so hard she almost reached out to hold Lingling's hand.

Lingling, completely unaware of Orm's internal monologue, paid the taxi driver and started moving toward the house. Orm, snapping out of her daze, hurried to help.

"Wait—let me get that." She reached for Lingling's bag, her voice filled with a determined sense of purpose.

Lingling, balancing on her crutches, raised an eyebrow but allowed it, too tired to argue. "You do realize I carry my own things every day, right?"

"That was before you fractured your ankle," Orm countered, her hands still hovering near Lingling as if ready to catch her at any moment.

Lingling sighed but focused on maneuvering up the short step leading to her porch. With practiced ease, she shifted her weight onto her good leg and reached for the door. Orm, despite herself, tensed—ready to intervene—only to watch as Lingling unlocked the door smoothly and stepped inside first.

Orm followed—and immediately took in the minimalistic interior.

The space was uncluttered, with only the essentials carefully placed. No unnecessary decorations, no excessive furniture. The arrangement was practical, efficient, and designed for easy navigation.

Orm, however, saw something else entirely.

She really has nothing...

Orm turned to Lingling, who carefully leaned her crutches against the wall near the door.

That's it. I've decided.

Before Lingling could say anything, Orm clapped her hands together. "Alright! I've made up my mind."

Lingling stilled. "...About what?"

Orm nodded firmly. "Instead of one week, I'm going to stay here for two weeks and take care of you until your ankle heals."

Silence.

Lingling just stood there, momentarily still, processing what had just happened.

Wait. How did we just double the time?

Lingling exhaled. "Orm, I already agreed to one week. That was generous."

Orm crossed her arms. "And I'm being more generous."

A long silence. Then—Lingling sighed, rubbing her temple. "You do realize I'm not helpless, right?"

"And yet, here I am, being helpful."

Lingling muttered something in Cantonese under her breath. She would have fought harder if she wasn't already exhausted.

"...Fine. Two weeks. But if you start hovering, I will find a way to trip you."

Lingling had a sinking feeling that letting Orm stay would be more trouble than she bargained for.

But two weeks?

She could handle that.

Right?