The Glimpse Of Us

Ten Years Ago

The bus rumbled to a stop at Mo Chit Terminal, the heartbeat of Bangkok's transit network. Lingling stepped off, gripping the strap of her backpack tightly. The towering skyline, the endless hum of traffic, the sheer weight of the city—it was overwhelming.

But she wasn't alone.

"Ling!"

She turned just in time to be tackled into a hug. Junji squeezed her tight before Fluke grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her playfully.

"Eight hours on a bus, and you still look flawless. Annoying." Fluke huffed before messing up her neatly combed hair.

"Hey! I just fixed that."

"I know." Fluke smirked.

Junji threw an arm over Lingling's shoulder as they walked toward her car. "I'm so glad you finally made it. It'll be easier to build our dream company now."

Lingling exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. Bangkok has everything we need to make it in music."

"And your parents agreed to this?" Fluke raised an eyebrow.

Lingling smiled. "All thanks to our TCMC trophy."

***

Six Months Later

Junji's car rolled to a stop outside a mansion that looked straight out of a movie. Massive gates. Marble steps. And everywhere—hydrangeas, blooming in soft purples and blues.

"I've never seen a house this big in my life," Fluke whispered, his jaw slack.

Junji rubbed her palms together. "Why am I nervous now?"

"Don't be." Lingling adjusted her blazer, her confidence unwavering. "We have a solid business plan, a strong proposal, and undeniable talent. We're going to make this deal happen."

The front door opened before they could ring the bell.

"You must be my husband's guests."

A stunning woman in her early thirties greeted them. She had an effortless grace, her warm smile making them feel at ease.

"Come in," she said, stepping aside.

As they entered, a small boy sat on the floor, playing with a toy car. The living room was filled with soft classical music, the scent of fresh flowers lingering in the air.

Junji bowed slightly. "Thank you for having us."

The woman laughed. "Oh, don't be so formal. Just call me Mae Koy."

A moment later, a man entered—a commanding presence, yet not intimidating.

"I'm Mr. Sethratanapong," he greeted, shaking their hands firmly. "Shall we discuss business?"

***

Hours later, after negotiations and detailed presentations, Mr. Sethratanapong leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"I must say, this is one of the most well-thought-out proposals I've seen from young entrepreneurs. Fresh minds bring new ideas, and I believe in investing in potential."

Lingling beamed. "Thank you for believing in us, sir."

The businessman chuckled. "I remember you mentioned earlier that the three of you won the Thailand Contemporary Music Championship. That means you're talented musicians as well."

Junji straightened, already catching on. "Would you like a demonstration?"

"I'd love one."

Lingling's fingers tingled. This was their moment.

"We have a grand piano upstairs," Mae Koy said, leading them to the room.

The grand piano sat bathed in golden evening light. Lingling took a seat, letting her fingers hover over the keys before pressing down.

At first, the melody was soft, delicate, like the first breath of morning. Then, it swelled—uplifting, soaring, filling the entire mansion with life.

Everyone listened, enthralled.

No one noticed the twelve-year-old girl, sickly and fragile, pushing herself up from bed.

No one saw her step into the hallway, one hand bracing against the wall as she followed the music, drawn to it like a moth to flame.

She walked slowly, breath shallow, until she reached the source.

But by the time she got there—the room was empty.

The music had stopped.

Confused, she turned toward the balcony, hearing voices below.

She stepped closer, gripping the railing.

From above, she saw her parents waving at some guests leaving in a car. And among them—

A girl.

Tall, poised, long black hair catching the evening sun, glowing among the purple hydrangeas.

Orm's breath hitched.

She looked like an angel.

Lingling had just closed the car door when something made her look up.

A figure stood on the balcony, dressed in white, framed by the setting sun.

For a moment, Lingling swore she had seen an angel.

But then—the car pulled away, and the mansion faded into the distance.

***

"Who were they, Mae?" Orm asked later that night.

Mae Koy smiled. "Your Papa's business partners."

"Were they the ones playing the piano?"

"Yes."

Orm's hands curled into fists.

"Mae... I want to learn how to play the piano too."

Mae Koy hesitated. "Are you sure? You're not well enough—"

"I don't have to do anything tiring. I just want to learn."

A pause. Then, Mae Koy nodded. "Alright. I'll ask your father to find you a tutor."

Orm's music journey had begun.

And she had no idea who had set it in motion.

***

One Year Later

The three founders returned to the mansion frequently, their company slowly growing under Mr. Sethratanapong's mentorship. Unlike most business dealings, their discussions always took place at the mansion—not at a corporate office in the city.

Mr. Sethratanapong had his reasons. His daughter was weak and sickly, and he didn't want to be away from her for too long. He had set up a private office within the mansion, where two of his assistants helped him manage interactions with the main headquarters in central Bangkok. That way, he could oversee both his business and his daughter's health without compromise.

And so, their meetings continued within the grand estate.

Lingling often sat in the garden, savoring Mae Koy's tea, watching the hydrangeas sway in the wind.

And in the distance—

A piano.

A girl's voice, soft yet growing stronger with each passing day.

Orm.

Lingling closed her eyes, listening.

She was improving.

She had real talent.

***

Years passed.

Only U Records thrived.

Orm grew up, healthy, vibrant, unknowingly paving the way for her own stardom.

And then—

The diagnosis.

Lingling sat in Dr. Tan's office, hands curled tightly on her lap, her usually poised demeanor betraying the fear simmering beneath. Across from her, Dr. Tan studied her file with a heavy expression.

She knew.

She knew before he even spoke.

But she still clung to the desperate hope that maybe—just maybe—he would tell her something different.

"I know you came here hoping for good news," Dr. Tan finally said, his voice calm yet firm. "But after consulting with specialists across the country, we all agree on one thing—any attempt to remove the tumor pressing against your optic nerve would be fatal."

Lingling's breath caught in her throat.

She forced herself to stay still, to keep her back straight, to not let the weight of his words crush her.

Dr. Tan sighed. "At this stage, the tumor isn't growing aggressively. But if it does, it could become terminal." He hesitated, then softened his tone. "I won't lie to you, Lingling. I don't want to give you false hope. There is no safe way to remove it without endangering your life."

The words struck like a physical blow.

Her vision blurred—not from the tumor, but from the burning sting of unshed tears.

She had always known something was wrong. The worsening headaches. The way the world had slowly faded into darkness. But to hear it spoken so plainly, so final—

"I'm only twenty-two," she whispered. The words trembled as they left her lips. "Why is this happening to me?"

Dr. Tan didn't answer.

Because there was no answer.

Lingling clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. She had spent years building something for herself. Fighting for her dream. And now, it was all slipping away.

She wasn't just losing her sight.

She was losing everything.

A choked sob forced its way past her lips.

Her composure shattered.

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as the grief crashed into her all at once.

A quiet rustle.

Then—a hand on her back, warm and grounding.

Lingling barely registered the presence beside her until she heard a soft voice.

"It's okay."

She lifted her head slightly, her teary eyes meeting the concerned face of a young intern sitting in the corner.

Dr. Bow.

She wasn't speaking as a doctor. Not yet. She was too young, too inexperienced to offer anything beyond words. But she was looking at Lingling like she truly understood.

And maybe, that was enough.

Dr. Bow hesitated, then spoke again, quieter this time.

"I don't know how yet, but... I'll find a way to help you. I promise."

A promise from a doctor who had no power to keep it.

But Lingling still held onto it.

Because in that moment, she had nothing else.

The world she had built in Bangkok slowly slipped away.

She was twenty-two.

She wasn't ready to lose everything.

At first, she refused to believe it. She clung to hope, seeking second opinions, chasing treatments that never worked. Days blurred into weeks, each one bringing another failed attempt. Acupuncture, herbal medicine, experimental drugs—she tried them all. Each time, she prayed for a miracle. Each time, she was met with the same crushing disappointment.

Her world became smaller, darker. The city that had once been her future now felt like a place suffocating her.

She avoided the Only U Records office. Avoided Junji and Fluke. Avoided everyone.

Until one day, she couldn't anymore.

Junji found her in her apartment, curled up on the couch, untouched meals on the table, unopened messages flooding her phone.

"Ling..." Junji's voice was gentle, but firm. "You can't keep doing this to yourself."

Lingling didn't answer.

"Fluke and I—" Junji swallowed. "We've been talking. You don't have to do this alone."

Lingling let out a hollow laugh. "And do what, exactly? Keep pretending I can fix this?" She gestured vaguely around her. "This life... this dream we built—it's not mine anymore, Junji. I can't see. I can't perform. I can't even walk down the street without counting my steps."

Junji knelt beside her, gripping her hands. "You are so much more than just what you've lost."

Lingling shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know who I am without my sight."

Junji's hands tightened. "Then let's find out. Together."

The next few months were a fight—but not the kind Lingling was used to.

Her parents offered to take her back to Kalasin. At first, she refused. Bangkok was her home. Her life. But the more she tried to hold on, the more exhausted she became.

Junji and Fluke wouldn't let her disappear. They held onto her shares in the company, making sure she was still part of it. They made her promise to keep writing music, even when she didn't believe in it anymore.

Then, one night, after another failed treatment, another sleepless night, another moment of staring at nothing but darkness—she made her decision.

She packed her bags.

She left Bangkok.

And she returned to Kalasin—not because she wanted to, but because she had nowhere else to go.

She arrived as a ghost of herself. Quiet. Withdrawn. A woman stripped of everything she had once been.

But Kalasin welcomed her with open arms.

Her parents, her brother, her childhood home. The scent of rain-soaked fields, the steady rhythm of a slower life.

At first, she didn't know what to do with herself.

Until one day, after weeks of emptiness, she reached out—blind fingers skimming across an old guitar.

And then—

She played.

Not for an audience. Not for a career.

Just for herself.

And that was how she began again.

***

Lingling had spent months lost in the darkness.

But music—music had never left her.

Even when her world faded to shadows, the melodies still burned bright within her.

"You can still make music, Ling," Junji had told her. "You're still you."

Fluke had squeezed her hand. "You don't need to see the stars to shine like one."

And so, she rose again—not as the girl who once stood on stage, but as the unseen force behind the music that would touch millions.

A new name. A new beginning.

Tawan—The Sun.

The world might never see her, but they would feel her.

In every note, every lyric, every song that carried her warmth.

She would no longer chase the light.

She would be the light.

***

Orm, 17 years old

Her fingers danced over the keyboard, recording another song cover. She had started uploading videos as a hobby, but now—now people were listening. Watching. Following.

She didn't know where this path would lead her.

She only knew she wanted to keep singing.

Lingling, 24 years old

She sat in front of her laptop, Danny guiding her through another fan-uploaded video.

"That girl again," Danny mused. "She's getting popular."

Lingling tilted her head at the sound of Orm's voice through the speakers.

"She's matured," Lingling murmured. "No longer the little girl learning piano."

She didn't know why she kept listening.

She only knew she couldn't stop.

***

"Junji," Lingling said one day, "who's the new artist you signed?"

Junji hesitated before answering.

"She goes by Ayla. Her real name is Kornnaphat Sethratanapong."

Lingling's fingers stilled.

Orm.

Mr. Sethratanapong's daughter.

Junji continued, "I want you to write for her. I think your style would fit her voice."

Lingling's heart pounded, but she kept her voice steady. "I'll do it. But promise me something."

Junji frowned. "What?"

"Don't tell her about me."

Junji sighed. "Ling..."

"Please."

A long pause.

Then, finally—

"Alright."

***

Orm held the trophy close to her chest, standing under the blinding stage lights.

Tears burned in her eyes as she clutched the microphone.

"So many people made this possible," she said breathlessly. "My family. My team. My fans."

She exhaled, steadying herself.

"And... Tawan."

Lingling sat in her quiet room, listening to the live broadcast.

Ayla's voice—Orm's voice—filled the space between them.

She closed her eyes.

And smiled.

***

Years passed. Lingling's songs became hits. Every time Ayla's voice filled a stadium, every time an award was given, every time a melody she wrote reached millions—she received a share of that success.

And with that success, she built something of her own.

Junji and Fluke stood beside her, watching as the final touches were put on the resort.

"You really did it," Junji murmured, admiration lacing her voice.

Fluke let out a low whistle. "Never thought our little blind songwriter would end up a resort owner." He smirked. "So, what's the name of this masterpiece?"

Lingling smiled, tilting her head slightly toward the breeze. The faintest scent of flowers lingered in the air. She didn't need to see them to know they were there.

"The Purple Hydrangeas."

Junji blinked. Fluke groaned. "I knew it! It's because of those flowers, isn't it? And let me guess... the piano, too."

Lingling only smiled. She didn't confirm, didn't deny.

Some things, after all, were just meant to be.

***

Back to the Present

The studio was silent, except for the faint hum of the equipment and the rapid pounding of Orm's heart.

Lingling sat beside her on the piano bench, composed but tense, her fingers resting against the keys—trembling.

Orm struggled to find the words. Every memory, every revelation, every moment that had led her here clashed in her mind.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "So it was you? You're the angel that I saw...?"

She let out a shaky breath, gripping the bench as if to steady herself. "All these years, I thought it was just a fleeting moment. A memory that belonged to a dream. But it was real. You were real." Her eyes searched Lingling's face, filled with something between wonder and disbelief. "And you were the reason... The reason I fell in love with music."

Lingling's lips parted slightly, her own breath hitching. "Baobao..."

Orm shook her head, overwhelmed. "You were there before I even knew you. Guiding me, shaping my music, leading me here. And then, you let me go." Her voice broke. "Why?"

Lingling's hand trembled as she reached for Orm's, lacing their fingers together. "Because I wanted you to shine." Her voice was soft, aching. "Even if it meant letting you go."

Orm clenched her jaw. "But I didn't want to leave."

Lingling inhaled deeply, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I never wanted you to, either."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they had never said.

"You were there," Orm finally whispered. "From the very beginning."

Lingling exhaled softly. "Yes."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

A pause. Lingling's hands curled slightly on her lap. "Because... you never asked."

Orm's chest tightened. That answer—it was so simple, yet it carried so much weight.

Lingling turned toward her then, her face unreadable, but Orm could feel the tension beneath the calm.

"I never wanted to hide from you forever," Lingling admitted. "But I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

Lingling hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the piano keys. "Afraid that if you knew the truth, you would see me differently. That you would think of me as someone who controlled your path instead of just... believing in you."

Orm swallowed hard. "But you didn't control me, Jie Jie. You believed in me. You were my compass even when I didn't know it was you."

Lingling let out a shaky breath. "I just... I just wanted you to shine, Baobao." Her voice cracked slightly. "Even if it meant staying in the shadows."

The nickname nearly shattered her.

Orm's vision blurred. She had spent weeks feeling lost, feeling like she didn't belong anywhere. But now—sitting here, facing the woman who had been in every part of her journey—it felt like she had finally come home.

With unsteady hands, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the folded music sheet.

Lingling didn't need to see it to know what it was. Her lips parted slightly, as if she could sense the moment coming.

"You sent me this," Orm murmured. "Why?"

Lingling inhaled deeply, her expression softening. "Because it was my love letter to you."

Orm stilled.

Lingling reached out, her fingers brushing against Orm's wrist, hesitant but steady. "I don't want to hide from you anymore."

The words broke something inside her.

A laugh-sob escaped Orm as she surged forward, cupping Lingling's face. Their foreheads nearly touched, their breaths mingling.

"You could've just told me," she whispered, half in disbelief, half in relief.

Lingling smiled—soft, unguarded, the most beautiful smile Orm had ever seen. "I'm telling you now."

And then, finally—Orm tilted Lingling's face up, pressing their lips together in a kiss that spoke of everything they had lost, everything they had found, and everything that was still to come.

When their lips met, it wasn't just a kiss.

It was a promise.

A beginning.

A homecoming.

And this time—Orm wasn't leaving.