The Glimpse Of Us

Morning at the resort's restaurant.

Orm sat comfortably across from Lingling, a fork in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She had finally satisfied her craving for Western food—a classic English breakfast, complete with toast, eggs, sautéed mushrooms, crispy bacon, and a generous helping of baked beans.

Lingling, on the other hand, opted for something lighter—a bowl of congee with a side of salted eggs. She had little interest in Orm's breakfast choice, but the way Orm hummed in satisfaction after every bite was almost entertaining.

"You seem way too happy over food," Lingling commented, bringing a spoonful of congee to her lips.

Orm grinned. "P' Ling, do you know how long I've been craving this? All I've had since I got here was rice, rice, and more rice. If I had to eat one more plate of nam tok, I was going to start crying."

Lingling chuckled softly. "You're in Isaan, Baobao. Of course, you'll eat a lot of rice."

Orm rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She scooped into her sautéed mushroom and took another bite before realizing something."Wait—did you call me Baobao again?"

Lingling hesitated, then simply took another sip of her tea. "Did I?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Orm narrowed her eyes. "You totally did. I thought we were still at 'N' Orm' and 'P' Ling' level."

"I must've said it by accident." Lingling's tone was calm, but Orm could see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Before Orm could tease her further, Lingling casually changed the topic. "I have a meeting later. You should come with me."

Orm raised an eyebrow. "A meeting? About what?"

"We're discussing a new dining concept for the resort. Since you seem passionate about food, I figured you'd have some thoughts."

Orm set down her fork, intrigued. "So, this is an invitation to eat free food?"

"No." Lingling chuckled. "But if you behave, maybe the chef will let you taste something."

Orm pretended to think it over. "Hmm... I don't know. Sitting in a business meeting doesn't sound as exciting as eating my beloved English breakfast."

Lingling sighed. "You studied economics, didn't you?"

Orm blinked. "Uh... yeah?"

"Then consider this an opportunity to apply your knowledge." Lingling's tone was effortlessly persuasive. "Unless you'd rather waste all those years of education."

Orm narrowed her eyes. "That was a low blow."

Lingling only sipped her tea in response, utterly unbothered.

Orm sighed dramatically, then shoved another bite of toast into her mouth. "Fine, fine. I'll go. But if I get bored, I'm stealing your congee."

Lingling smiled knowingly. "We'll see about that."

Orm glanced at Lingling's bowl of congee, steam rising from it in soft curls. "You really like congee, huh?" she mused, cutting into her poached egg.

Lingling smiled, stirring her spoon through the warm rice porridge. "I grew up eating it," she said, her voice carrying a nostalgic lilt. "When I was a baby, I was allergic to milk, so my mother had no choice but to feed me congee instead. It just... became a habit."

Orm's knife paused midair. "Wait, so you've been eating congee since infancy?"

Lingling chuckled. "Practically my whole life." She took a small, careful bite. "It's comforting. Familiar."

Orm watched her for a moment, then shook her head with an affectionate grin. "No wonder you're so attached to it."

Lingling tilted her head. "And you're attached to your Western breakfast, aren't you, Baobao?"

Orm's ears warmed at the nickname, but she quickly covered it up by dramatically stabbing her sausage with a fork. "Listen, I've had nothing but rice for days. I needed this."

Lingling laughed, light and sweet, before taking another spoonful of her congee.

***

Seated at the head of the sleek mahogany conference table, Lingling rested her hands lightly on the smooth surface, listening intently as the resort's head chef presented his vision.

"Omakase dining will elevate our restaurant to another level," the chef explained. "But sourcing the right ingredients—especially the sushi rice—will be our biggest challenge."

There was a murmur of agreement from the staff. Sushi rice had to be perfect—delicately sticky yet firm enough to hold shape, subtly sweet with just the right texture. Importing it from Japan or even other regions of Thailand would be costly and inconsistent.

That's when Danny spoke up.

"Actually, we might not have to import it at all," he said, his voice carrying the enthusiasm of someone deeply passionate about his craft. "I've been researching a strain of sushi rice that can be cultivated right here in Kalasin. My team has been running small-scale trials, and if all goes well, we should have a full harvest ready in two months."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"Sushi rice? In Kalasin?" One of the staff members sounded doubtful. "Is that even possible?"

Lingling let the discussion play out, her expression unreadable. But Orm, watching from her seat beside her, noticed the slight, knowing tilt of her head—the way she always waited for people to reach their own conclusions before stepping in.

Danny, unfazed, nodded confidently. "Kalasin is already known for high-quality rice. With the right conditions and processing techniques, we can produce sushi-grade rice that rivals imported varieties. Not only would this support local farmers, but it would also give the resort a unique identity—authentic omakase using locally sourced ingredients."

Lingling finally spoke, her voice smooth yet firm.

"I believe in this project."

All eyes turned to her.

"This resort was built to embrace Kalasin's strengths. If we can grow something exceptional here, we should support it. Let's move forward—with careful quality control, of course. I trust Danny and his team to deliver."

The finality in her tone settled the discussion. The meeting wrapped up with a plan—collaborating with the farm to monitor the rice's progress while preparing the restaurant's omakase concept.

As the staff dispersed, Orm nudged Lingling's arm, grinning. "You have quite a presence in meetings, Jie Jie."

Lingling huffed a soft laugh. "I've done this long enough to know when to let people talk and when to step in."

Orm watched her quietly for a moment. It was true—Lingling had a way of commanding respect effortlessly, of steering a room without needing to raise her voice. It was... admirable. And maybe, just maybe, Orm wanted to see more of it.

She lingered a moment longer, observing how Lingling remained seated as the chef approached, speaking in a hushed tone—perhaps about a special request or a detail she had noticed. Even now, with the meeting officially over, Lingling's presence carried weight, her measured nods and brief responses shaping decisions without unnecessary words.

Without thinking, Orm reached for her phone. The way Lingling sat there—composed, quietly powerful—made something stir in her chest. She wanted to keep this moment, to capture the way Lingling carried herself, so effortlessly in control yet never overbearing.

Click.

She locked her phone just as Danny nudged her elbow. "Let's go."

Shaking off her thoughts, Orm followed him out, but the image of Lingling at that table stayed with her.

Stepping into the sunlight, she stretched her arms above her head. "That was quite the meeting," she mused. "Who knew rice and sushi could be such a serious business?"

Danny chuckled. "Everything's serious when it involves long-term investment. But hey, it's exciting. We're planting a future together—literally."

Orm smirked. "What, you want me to be the face of Kalasin's sushi rice now? Should I start practicing my 'best grain' endorsement pose?"

Danny grinned. "If that means more people appreciating locally grown rice, I don't see why not. You'd make it look good, superstar."

She rolled her eyes but laughed anyway. "I'll think about it."

Danny glanced at his watch. "I gotta go check on the fields. We're testing new irrigation methods. You?"

Orm looked around, hands in her pockets. "I think I'll walk for a bit."

"Enjoy the peace while you can," Danny said with a knowing smile. "Before city life pulls you back."

Orm hummed in response, watching as he walked off toward the parking area. She continued along the path, feeling the soft crunch of pebbles underfoot, the scent of blooming flowers carried on the breeze.

The resort was beautiful—not just in its design, but in the way it breathed. It felt lived-in, nurtured. Unlike the cold, impersonal luxury she was used to, this place had warmth, a heartbeat.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the caller ID.

Kwang.

The outside world was calling.

"Hey, Kwang."

"Finally! Do you know how rare it is for me to catch you these days?"

Orm chuckled, adjusting her grip on her phone as she leaned against a wooden pillar. "I'm on vacation, remember?"

Kwang hummed in thought. . "Yeah, but you sound... different."

Orm scoffed. "I do not."

"You do," Kwang insisted. "Like you're in a suspiciously good mood. The Orm I know would be whining about something by now."

Orm rolled her eyes. "So I can't just be happy?"

Kwang laughed. "You? Randomly happy for no reason? Come on, spill it. Don't tell me you actually like being away from the city."

Orm rolled her eyes. "I never said I hated it."

"Hmm." Another pause. "So, did you find them yet?"

Them.

Orm had spent years wondering about the songwriter behind the melodies that resonated so deeply with her.

Tawan.

She had always assumed they were just another talented composer working behind the scenes—until recently, when something about their music started feeling strangely familiar.

This hiatus, she figured, might be her best chance to finally piece together the puzzle.

Orm exhaled slowly. "Not yet."

"Kwang hummed on the other end. "Well, if you're already in the countryside, who knows? Maybe you'll find some answers there."

"Or you might get too distracted by whatever—or whoever—is making you sound this... alive." Kwang said playfully.

Orm didn't dignify that with a response.

***

She made her way back to the main house, but the moment she stepped inside, a familiar melody reached her ears. It was soft, hesitant at first, but unmistakable.

A piano.

Orm's breath caught in her throat.

The rich, resonant notes curled through the air, wrapping around her like a familiar embrace. She followed the sound, each chord pulling her in, her steps slowing as if afraid to disturb something sacred.

Orm wasn't sure what pulled her attention first—the gentle weight of the notes or the way the sound filled the room like ripples on still water.
It wrapped around her, familiar yet distant, stirring something deep in her chest.

Something about it made Orm's chest tighten. It wasn't just beautiful—it was familiar.

She frowned, shifting her weight unconsciously. There was no reason for her to feel this way, no reason for a simple melody to stir something restless inside her. Yet, as the music flowed, a strange sensation crept over her, something distant but persistent, like a memory brushing just beyond reach.

Her heart kicked in her chest, sudden and unexplainable.

She took a step forward before she even realized it.

Then she saw her.

Lingling sat poised at the grand white piano, her back straight, her fingers gliding effortlessly across the keys. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a golden shimmer over her. Shadows danced along her delicate profile—her long lashes resting against her cheeks, the serene focus in her expression, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed with the music.

If someone didn't know her, they would never have guessed that the woman playing so effortlessly was blind.

She wasn't just playing. She was feeling.

Every note was infused with something deep and unspoken, something Orm could sense but not yet grasp.

And the song—she knew it. Blue by Yung Kai.

She didn't hesitate.

Quietly, she sat down beside Lingling on the bench. Their shoulders brushed, but Lingling didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if acknowledging Orm's presence without a word.

Orm lifted her hands to the keys, waiting for the right moment. And then, seamlessly, she joined in.

Lingling didn't stop playing. She merely adjusted, instinctively creating space in the melody for Orm to fill. Their harmony was effortless, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.

The melody wrapped around Orm, drawing her closer. Before she even realized it, her lips parted, and her voice slipped into the quiet space between Lingling's notes.

"🎼I'll imagine we fell in love
I'll nap under moonlight skies with you 🎶
I think I'll picture us, you with the waves
🎵The ocean's colors on your face
I'll leave my heart with your air🎵
🎶So let me fly with you
Will you be forever with me?🎶"

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant at first, but as the words settled into the air, something shifted. The music didn't falter—Lingling's fingers continued their steady rhythm, but the slightest tilt of her head told Orm that she was listening, truly listening.

A small smile ghosted Lingling's lips. "You know this song?"

And then she kept playing.

Orm closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the music, in the warmth of their unspoken connection.

As the final notes faded, a hush settled over them. Orm turned her head slightly, forehead almost brushing against Lingling's—

And then—

Applause.

Orm's eyes snapped open.

She turned to find that they had gathered an audience—resort staff, a few guests, all clapping enthusiastically.

Lingling let out a soft laugh. "I didn't realize we had company."

Orm, still caught off guard, barely had time to respond before a voice cut through the crowd.

"P'Ling!"

A woman approached, her steps light but confident. She had an air of familiarity, like someone who belonged here. Her dark eyes flickered with excitement as she smiled warmly at Lingling.

"That was amazing. I never thought I'd see you playing the piano again."

Lingling smiled, her fingers lightly tracing the piano keys. "I never stopped. Just... not in front of others."

Orm's gaze snapped to the woman, suddenly more alert. There was something in the way she spoke to Lingling—soft, affectionate, familiar.

Lingling turned toward Orm, as if remembering she was still there. "Orm, this is Bam Saralee. Mr. Prasitdumrong's daughter. We've known each other for a long time. She was even my junior in high school."

Orm caught the way Bam's cheeks tinted pink when Lingling said that.

She didn't like it.

She didn't know why she didn't like it, but she didn't.

Her usual warmth shifted. The air around her sharpened, her presence taking on an unmistakable edge—the same aura she wore as Ayla, the superstar. Gone was the playful, affectionate Orm who pouted at breakfast and let Lingling tease her over English breakfasts and rice. In her place stood someone polished, untouchable. Confident, composed, with a quiet intensity that made people hesitate before stepping too close.

Orm didn't fidget. She didn't sway with the music or hum under her breath like she usually did. She stood still, posture straight, eyes sharp, expression unreadable. The kind of presence that made entire arenas fall silent before she even uttered a word.

Lingling noticed.

She tilted her head slightly, as if sensing something different in the way Orm breathed. "N' Orm?"

Orm's lips curled into a practiced, effortless smile—the kind she gave cameras and executives, the kind that hid more than it revealed. "It's nothing, Jie Jie."

But it wasn't nothing. The warmth in her voice had cooled just slightly, like a door being nudged half-shut.

***

And that night, on the drive home, they were both quiet.

The hum of the engine filled the space between them, steady and low, punctuated only by the occasional sound of Lingling's fingers tapping lightly against her thigh—an unconscious habit. The air was thick with something unsaid, something neither of them acknowledged but both felt.

Orm kept her eyes on the road, her hands steady on the wheel, but her thoughts were anything but. The image of Lingling at the piano, the way she had turned toward her as if remembering she was still there, lingered stubbornly in her mind. And Bam—Orm clenched the steering wheel just a little tighter.

Lingling, on the other hand, tilted her face slightly toward the window, listening to the passing sounds of the night. The distant chirping of crickets, the occasional rustle of trees in the breeze, the smooth rhythm of the tires against the road. She could sense the shift in Orm, but she didn't know how to reach for her. Not when Orm was wrapped in silence, in that aura that felt just a little too far away.

After a long moment, Lingling broke the quiet. "Baobao."

Orm inhaled, the nickname hitting her differently than it had before. She didn't answer immediately, just flicked her turn signal as they approached the curve in the road.

Lingling waited.

And when Orm finally spoke, her voice was soft, careful. "You played beautifully today."

Lingling smiled, but it was a small, knowing one. "You knew the song."

Orm glanced at her briefly, then looked back at the road. "Yeah."

And just like that, the conversation faded, slipping back into the quiet. Neither of them pushed for more.

***

The storm hit just past midnight.

Orm had never liked thunderstorms. Being in a wooden house during one? Even worse.

The rain pounded against the roof in an unrelenting rhythm, heavy drops striking the wooden planks like a drumroll. Wind howled through the cracks, making the shutters rattle, the old wood creaking with every violent gust. And the lightning—bright, jagged veins that slashed across the sky—lit up the gaps in the walls, casting eerie, flickering shadows inside her room. Each strike was too close, too bright, as if it might tear through the roof and reach inside.

She swallowed hard, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. The distant rumble of thunder gave her a brief moment to breathe—before a deafening crack split the air, so loud it rattled her bones.

And then—

Darkness.

The power went out.

Orm barely had time to process it before she flung her door open—

And screamed.

A figure loomed before her, shrouded in darkness. Long, unbound hair cascaded over its shoulders, blending into the night.

The dim glow of distant lightning caught the edges of a flowing white nightgown, making it appear almost ghostly—like something that had stepped straight out of a nightmare.

"GHOST—"

"Baobao."

Orm froze.

Lingling stood there, head slightly tilted in confusion. "What's wrong?"

Orm placed a hand over her racing heart. "You scared me!"

Lingling frowned. "I came to check on you. I thought you might be scared of the storm."

"I—" Orm straightened, attempting to regain her composure. "I thought you were the one who was scared."

Lingling let out a small, knowing laugh. "Mm. If you say so."

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deep rumble of thunder.

Orm tensed.

Lingling reached for her hand, fingers brushing lightly against her wrist. "Stay with me tonight?"

Orm barely hesitated. "Okay."

They lay side by side on Lingling's bed, the space between them almost nonexistent.

After a long moment, Orm finally spoke. "About earlier... at the resort."

Lingling hummed softly, waiting.

Orm exhaled. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I acted like that."

Lingling turned her head slightly, her breath warm against Orm's skin.

"I don't mind," she murmured. "If you're protective of me."

Orm felt her heartbeat stutter.

Lingling smiled. "It's sweet."

Orm swallowed, not trusting herself to respond. The storm had quieted outside, but the silence in the room felt heavier now, filled with something unspoken.

Then, Lingling spoke again—so softly that Orm almost thought she was imagining it.

"You asked me earlier if I was afraid of the thunder." A pause. "I used to be. When I was little, I'd hide under the blankets, covering my ears. My mother used to say storms always pass, but when you're in the middle of one, it never feels that way, does it?"

Orm stayed quiet, sensing that Lingling wasn't just talking about the weather.

Lingling exhaled, a faint, almost wistful sound. "But nothing terrified me more than the first time I woke up in the dark and realized it wasn't going to pass."

Orm felt her breath hitch.

"I thought—maybe it was a dream. Or maybe I just needed to blink, and everything would be back. But no matter how many times I tried... I couldn't make the morning come." Lingling's voice was steady, but there was something fragile beneath it. "I remember reaching for my phone. I knew where I left it. I picked it up, unlocked it, even opened my messages... but I couldn't see what was on the screen."

Orm's throat tightened.

"I didn't cry," Lingling continued. "I just sat there. Holding my phone. Not knowing if the sun had already risen or if the night was still there."

Silence stretched between them.

"How... did you feel?" Orm finally whispered.

Lingling hummed, as if she had asked herself the same question many times before. "Lost. But more than that..." She hesitated. "I felt small."

Orm turned to look at her, but Lingling's face remained unreadable in the dim candlelight.

"I had always been independent. Always capable. But suddenly, I couldn't even walk to the bathroom without stumbling. I couldn't find my own reflection in the mirror." A small, quiet laugh escaped her lips. "And I remember thinking... if I can't even see myself, how will anyone else?"

Orm clenched her fists. It was strange—she had only known Lingling for a short time, yet the thought of her feeling that lost, that helpless, made something ache deep inside her.

"...What changed?" Orm asked gently.

Lingling turned her head slightly, her unseeing eyes somehow looking through her. "I did."

Orm exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath.

Lingling smiled, small but certain. "I decided that even if I couldn't see the world anymore, I still wanted to live in it. To shape it in ways that mattered. To create something that could be seen, even if not by me."

Orm stared at her, words failing her.

"Besides," Lingling added lightly, "I still remember what the world looks like. I don't need my eyes to know that you're looking at me right now."

Orm froze.

Lingling turned toward her fully, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "Am I wrong?"

Orm quickly looked away, flustered. "...Go to sleep, Jie Jie."

Lingling chuckled, shifting slightly closer as she tucked herself deeper under the blankets. "Goodnight, Baobao."

After a few moments, her breathing evened out, slow and steady, her warmth unconsciously settling against Orm.

Orm lay there, staring at the ceiling long after Lingling had fallen asleep in her arms.

And in that quiet space, she thought—not for the first time—that Lingling was the strongest person she had ever met.

The rain continued to fall outside, but inside, with Lingling tucked against her, Orm had never felt safer.