The Glimpse Of Us

Returning to Bangkok

The hum of the city was different from what Lingling remembered. Seven years had passed since she last set foot in Bangkok, yet the energy remained the same—fast, loud, overwhelming. Car horns blared. Engines revved. Somewhere in the distance, construction rattled through the streets.

She leaned her head against Orm's shoulder, the rhythmic sway of the car lulling her into quiet thought.

She had resisted this trip for months.

But Orm—her stubborn, relentless Baobao—had refused to give up.

Now, here they were.

Lingling's fingers curled tighter around Orm's hand.

"Don't worry," Orm whispered, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "We'll get through this together."

Lingling exhaled, squeezing back. She wasn't sure if she was comforting Orm or herself.

The car rolled to a stop outside Bangkok Hospital. The very place where, years ago, doctors had told her there was no hope. Where she had been forced to accept her fate.

Now, she was back.

For hope.

***

Dr. Tan's voice hadn't changed—calm, professional, yet carrying the weight of someone who had spent years at the forefront of his field. Now the Head of Oncology at Bangkok Hospital, he had seen countless cases, made impossible decisions, and watched medical advancements reshape the very limits of what was possible.

He flipped through Lingling's updated MRI scans, his expression unreadable.

Orm sat beside her, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Finally, Dr. Tan exhaled and turned to Lingling.

"Things have changed since we last met," he said. "Seven years ago, removing the tumor would have been too risky. But medicine has come a long way since then." He angled the screen toward them, pointing at the image. "With MRI-guided focused ultrasound, we can now target and destroy the tumor without surgery. No incisions, no opening the skull—just precise beams of ultrasound energy directed at the tumor."

Orm's fingers twitched against Lingling's arm, barely containing her excitement. "So you can remove it?"

"Yes," Dr. Tan nodded. "And once it's gone, the risk of it growing and becoming terminal will be eliminated."

Lingling swallowed. "But... my sight?"

Dr. Tan exhaled. "That, I can't guarantee."

The room felt colder suddenly.

Orm stiffened beside her.

Dr. Tan continued, his voice gentler now. "The tumor has been pressing on your optic nerve for years. Even if we remove it, we don't know if the damage is reversible. Some patients regain partial vision. Some, full. Others... none at all."

Silence.

Lingling's hands curled on her lap.

"You want me to take this chance," she murmured.

Dr. Tan hesitated. "I want you to have the chance to live without the fear of this tumor ending your life."

Lingling lowered her head.

***

That night, Orm barely slept.

She sat on the balcony of their hotel room, watching the city lights blur into golden streaks. She had spent years searching for Tawan, only to find her in a small countryside town, living a life far removed from the spotlight.

She had spent months falling in love, only to learn that Lingling's life had been hanging by a thread all along.

And now... now she had a chance to save her.

But only if Lingling chose to take it.

Behind her, soft footsteps approached. Lingling sat beside her, pulling a shawl around her shoulders.

"You're thinking too loudly," she murmured.

Orm let out a quiet laugh. "Sorry."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the distant hum of the city.

Then, Lingling spoke. "I'm scared, Baobao."

Orm turned. "Of the surgery?"

Lingling hesitated. "Of hope."

Orm's breath hitched.

"I've learned how to live like this," Lingling admitted, gesturing vaguely to herself. "I built a new life. I adjusted. What if... what if I hope for something that never happens? What if I go through with this, and my world stays dark?"

Orm reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.

"I can't tell you what to do," she whispered. "But I can tell you this—you are not alone in this. No matter what happens, I will be here. If you can't see, I will still be here. If you can, I will be the first thing you see."

Lingling turned toward her.

And in the quiet glow of the city lights, she finally said, "Okay."

***

The procedure was over in a matter of hours.

Lingling didn't feel pain—just exhaustion. The doctors had warned her that her vision wouldn't return immediately, if at all. For now, the world remained the same—dark, familiar, yet filled with new uncertainty.

Orm never left her side.

Days passed. The swelling subsided. The follow-up visits became routine.

Still, nothing.

Orm's excitement had slowly turned to quiet patience.

And Lingling? Lingling had made peace with it. She had taken the chance. She had done what she could. And if this was her reality, then so be it.

But then—something changed.

***

It was a normal check-up. Routine. Nothing new.

Dr. Tan shined a light into her eyes, just like he had done the past few weeks.

Lingling sighed, already expecting nothing.

But then—

The light wasn't just brightness.

It was warmth.

And behind that warmth—something else.

Color.

She stiffened.

Orm's grip on her hand tightened. "Jie Jie?"

Lingling blinked.

Shapes. Blurred. Uncertain. But there.

Orm leaned in, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Lingling's breath hitched.

Golden.

She saw gold.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She blinked again, rapid, frantic, trying to hold onto it, trying to make sure it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her.

And then—clarity.

Amber.

Clear, striking, impossibly warm amber.

Her lips parted in silent disbelief.

She knew those eyes.

She had traced them with her fingers, memorized every expression, imagined what they might look like under the sun.

But now—

Now she could see them.

Her heart swelled, her throat tightening as something wet slipped down her cheek.

Orm panicked. "Jie Jie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Lingling let out a shaky laugh, choking on a sob.

She reached out, cupping Orm's face with trembling hands.

And then, in a whisper, she said—

"Baobao... I can see you."

Silence.

Orm froze.

Her lips parted, her breath caught, her entire body going impossibly still.

"What...?"

Lingling laughed again, breathless, overwhelmed, alive.

"Your eyes," she murmured, her thumb brushing against Orm's cheek. "They're beautiful."

Orm's face crumbled.

The tears came fast, unstoppable, blurring the edges of her vision.

Lingling could see.

She could see.

And the first thing she saw was her.

Orm sobbed, throwing her arms around Lingling, burying herself into her, crying so hard she could barely breathe.

And in that tiny doctor's office, with nothing but fluorescent lights and the scent of antiseptic—

Lingling saw the world again.

And the world was Orm.