Chapter 1
Lingling woke to the distant drone of traffic echoing through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her sleek Hong Kong apartment. Sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, warming the modern living room where the city’s iconic skyline framed the glass. She had always loved Hong Kong’s frenetic energy—the pulse of possibilities, the hum of opportunity.
Today, however, that energy felt just a touch overwhelming.
“Morning,” a soft voice called from behind. Ling turned to see Sui, her girlfriend, padding into the living room, her long hair cascading over the shoulders of an oversized robe. Despite being one of the world’s most sought-after models, Sui carried an effortless grace in every small gesture. She placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the low glass table. “We have that interview in a couple of hours, remember?”
Ling ran a hand through her hair, nodding absently as she settled on the couch. “Right. The Asia Glam shoot,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temples to ease a dull ache. Normally, she would have anticipated this interview with pride—every press appearance confirmed her climb to the top. Yet this morning, a gnawing unease clouded her thoughts, and it began with a single name: Orm.
She hadn’t seen Orm Kornnaphat in four years, not since their most devastating fight—the one that splintered their once-perfect world. One moment, they were the darlings of the tabloids, a “dream couple” adored by everyone; the next, they were strangers, rebuilding separate lives. Ling had thrown herself into her career after snagging a major Hong Kong film role, and found success beyond her wildest dreams. In the midst of that whirlwind, she’d met Sui He—a welcome beam of comfort and companionship at a Dior catwalk show a year ago.
Sui perched on the couch’s armrest, studying Ling with concern. “You’re quiet. Is something bothering you?” She gently brushed aside a stray strand of Ling’s hair to see her face more clearly.
Ling glanced up, managing a faint smile. “I’m fine. Just…thinking about the next steps in my career. My agent mentioned a project in Bangkok.” The moment the city’s name escaped her lips, her heart clenched involuntarily. Bangkok—where Orm lived, and where all those memories still lingered.
Sui squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. “That could be exciting. Cross-cultural projects are taking off right now. It might be a great chance for you to branch out.” Sui’s supportive tone reminded Ling why she valued her so much—calm, composed, and always willing to listen. She was fully aware of Ling’s past with Orm; how could she not be? Only a few years ago, the world had been buzzing about their every move.
Ling curled her fingers around the coffee mug, savouring its comforting warmth. “You’re right. I shouldn’t overthink it,” she said, even as her mind churned with questions. What if she ran into Orm? Had Orm truly moved on, with all those rumours constantly swirling about her personal life? Ling couldn’t decide if she dreaded that confrontation—or secretly hoped for it.
Before she could fall deeper into those thoughts, her phone chimed with a new message. She picked it up and recognized her agent’s name, P’Mam, on the screen. The text read: Bangkok project confirmed. Need to finalize details ASAP. Let’s meet.
Her gaze lingered on the words, her pulse quickening. Sui leaned closer, concern etched across her elegant features. “Everything okay? Is it P’Mam?”
Ling exhaled, as though releasing an old ghost. “Yes,” she said, though her voice trembled just enough for Sui to notice. “She wants to talk about the Bangkok project.”
She set the phone down and, in its reflective screen, caught the image of her own uncertain eyes staring back. For a split second, she thought she saw Orm’s soft brown gaze, the one that once held all their shared dreams.
For better or worse, Ling realized she was heading back to where it had all begun—and, if fate had any say, the place where something left unspoken might finally find its resolution.
_________
Orm Kornnaphat stood before a gilded full-length mirror, reapplying a subtle layer of lipstick. Outside the dressing room door, she could hear the steady hum of voices—crew members calling for props, stylists comparing notes, and a manager barking reminders about the tight schedule. She was on set for her latest drama series, playing a confident young CEO determined to succeed on her own terms.
The irony wasn’t lost on Orm. Her character’s relentless ambition felt like a reflection of her own life, especially after…everything. She exhaled slowly, recalling the years she’d spent climbing the industry ladder. Late-night auditions. Endless dance rehearsals for brand events. Countless interviews fielding personal questions that had nothing to do with her work. In the glare of Thailand’s paparazzi, any sense of privacy felt like a fading memory.
A gentle knock at the door broke her thoughts. “Five minutes, Khun Orm,” called a production assistant.
Orm offered a quick smile of acknowledgement, then smoothed an invisible crease from her tailored suit jacket. Stay focused, she reminded herself. It was the same mantra she’d used since parting ways with Ling: keep moving forward, keep busy, and try not to dwell on the past. She had a reputation to uphold—everyone wanted a piece of the glamorous star whose face graced magazine covers and whose name trended after every event.
As she stepped out onto the bustling set, heads turned. Colleagues greeted her with polite bows or warm nods, and one of her co-stars teased, “Looking sharp, Orm. Who’s your stylist? They deserve a raise!” She laughed politely, flashing the same dazzling smile she’d become known for.
But beneath the polished exterior, she felt a tug of restlessness. Old memories had been resurfacing lately, triggered by an offhand remark or a random photo of Hong Kong’s skyline on social media. Sometimes, she caught herself wondering how Ling was doing—if Ling had pushed through any new challenges or if she was fine and if life in Hong Kong was better than here with her.
When the lunch break finally arrived, Orm slipped away to a quiet corner of the studio, phone in hand. Her manager, Peeyot, had sent several messages:
“Media wants a statement about that rumoured date last night—did you really leave the club with that famous singer?”
“Also, sponsors are asking if you’ll attend the new fashion expo next month. Let me know ASAP.”
Orm sighed. She tapped a quick response to clarify that no, she hadn’t gone home with the singer; they’d merely shared a ride to escape the photographers. The tabloids feasted on the slightest whiff of romance, especially after her high-profile breakup four years ago with Ling. She’d given up trying to correct every rumour, because listening to them, Orm cheated on Ling more than once. Let them think about what they want. Keeping the truth guarded felt safer.
She scrolled through a few more notifications, half-skimming entertainment headlines—some glowing, some speculative. One article caught her eye: “International Project in Talks: Top Thai GL Actresses Rumored to be join by Hong Kong Superstar.” Her stomach fluttered unexpectedly at the mention of Hong Kong. Could it be…? A sharp pang of curiosity and apprehension settled in. She tried to remind herself there were plenty of Hong Kong stars besides Ling. But that didn’t stop her from hovering over the link, heart thudding.
“Orm, we need you for a script read!” someone called from across the studio, shattering her moment of uncertainty.
Orm locked her phone and hurried back toward the stage lights, her well-practiced poise slipping back into place. But even as she took her mark for the next scene, her mind strayed to the headlines and the possibility that her path might soon cross with the one person she’d spent years trying to forget—or perhaps deep down, hoping she never would.
_______
The towering doors of the Grand Orchid Ballroom parted, flooding the marble foyer with a swirl of light and music. Lingling stepped through first, her arm linked with Sui He’s. Camera flashes sparked like tiny fireworks, reflecting off the ornate décor. Ling’s heartbeat drummed in her ears—a mix of anticipation and dread that had been her constant companion since she landed in Bangkok.
“Big turnout,” Sui murmured, leaning in. Even she, seasoned as she was with global fashion shows, seemed momentarily dazzled by the opulence.
Ling nodded, straightening her midnight-blue gown. She managed a polite smile for the cameras, but anxiety tightened her chest. This gala was meant to celebrate cross-cultural collaboration and an upcoming GL series, yet it felt more like a spotlight on her unresolved past. They paused to greet a few dignitaries and pose for the paparazzi. P’Mam, Ling’s agent, hovered in the periphery, gently steering them through the throng of well-dressed guests. Ling did her best to stay composed, answering polite questions about her latest film and about Hong Kong’s booming entertainment scene.
Then, as if summoned by her own restless thoughts, Orm Kornnaphat appeared in Ling’s peripheral vision.
A hush rippled through the crowd around them, cameras whipping to a new focal point. Ling turned, her heart hammering when she spotted Orm near the grand entrance. The Thai actress stood framed by crystal chandeliers and gilded columns, wearing a sleek, expertly tailored ensemble that commanded attention. She had that same magnetic confidence Ling remembered so well.
Ling froze. Despite the laughter and conversation filling the ballroom, she could only register the electric silence between her and Orm. Four years had passed since she’d last seen that familiar figure in person, and now her mind swam with too many memories: stolen kisses in quiet hallways, red-carpet events they once conquered as a dream couple, the final argument that shattered everything.
A gentle pressure on Ling’s arm reminded her she wasn’t alone. Sui He’s gaze flicked between Ling and Orm, a subtle concern etched on her features. The model’s grip tightened in support, but Ling could feel the tension radiating from her, too.
At the far end of the ballroom, Orm hesitated. Her manager said something—probably about greeting sponsors or heading toward the VIP section—but Orm’s attention had locked firmly on Ling. For a long, suspended moment, neither woman moved; they simply stared across the sea of guests, two souls tethered by an unspoken history that still held them captive.
A flash of movement drew Orm away—perhaps a photographer or a staff member nudging her toward an interview. Ling watched as Orm gave a polite nod, turned on her heel, and vanished into the swirl of tuxedos and gowns. The sudden loss of eye contact left Ling’s stomach in knots. She found herself inhaling shakily, forcing back the cascade of emotions threatening to engulf her.
“You okay?” Sui’s voice was calm yet laced with worry.
Ling managed a stiff nod. “I—I’m fine,” she murmured, though her throat felt tight. Fine was a lie, of course. There was nothing fine about the jolt of seeing Orm again, or the way her thoughts splintered with memories the second she laid eyes on her ex.
Sui cast a glance in the direction Orm had disappeared. “We can leave if you want,” she offered quietly. “We don’t have to stay.”
Ling swallowed the lump in her throat. “No, I’ll be all right.” She lifted her chin, summoning her poise. “This gala is a big deal. I can’t just run off. And you should enjoy it baby, it’s been a while since you came to Thailand”
Still, she couldn’t deny the part of her that wanted to escape before the ache in her chest grew unbearable. The night had only begun, and already the past threatened to overtake her. Sui gave her the sweetest smile before leaning in to press a kiss on her cheek, which directly drew some clicking of cameras to capture their moment.
After their obligatory rounds of networking, Ling and Sui found a quieter spot near an ornate display of orchids. Guests drifted by in sparkling waves of finery, while a classical quartet played softly from the stage. Every few minutes, Ling glanced around, half expecting to see Orm again. But Orm remained at the opposite side of the ballroom—seemingly surrounded by admirers and the press, yet just out of Ling’s reach.
Ling fidgeted with the stem of a champagne glass, eyes distant. All around, the gala’s brilliance provided the perfect veneer of celebration. Yet beneath the glamour, her mind churned.
Should I go talk to her?
The mere idea jolted her pulse to a frantic beat. Confronting Orm in this public setting—where cameras and hungry reporters lurked in every corner—felt impossible. Their breakup had been painful enough without turning it into a gala sideshow.
“We can slip out after the speeches,” P’Mam said gently, leaning in. She’d clearly noticed Ling’s subdued demeanor. “You’ve done enough handshakes and photos to satisfy everyone tonight.”
Ling nodded absently. She offered Sui a grateful look for her steadfast presence. Tomorrow, she’d wake to headlines speculating about a “near-reunion” with Orm. But at least for now, she hadn’t had to speak the words that still lodged in her throat—words like apology, regret, and unfinished.
From across the ballroom, Orm’s figure flashed into view once more. Their eyes met in a fleeting second of raw intensity before Orm was whisked away by more well-wishers. In that glance, Ling read the same turmoil reflected back at her: We can’t do this right now, not here, not yet.
Clinging to Sui’s arm for comfort, Ling let out a shaky breath. One thing was certain: the past was no longer distant. It stood only a few paces away in the same bustling room, reminding her that some chapters don’t close on their own.
The gala’s chandeliers gleamed like distant stars overhead. And Ling realized, with a note of resignation, that eventually she and Orm would have to find their way through the mess they’d left behind. But for tonight, it remained a silent standoff—two hearts caught between what once was and what could never be again.
The night sky sprawled over Bangkok in a wash of city lights and distant stars as Orm Kornnaphat slipped out of the hotel’s grand ballroom. The din of laughter, clinking glasses, and swirling conversation receded behind her, replaced by the low hum of traffic from the streets below.
She had planned to stay until the end—an opportunity to network with producers and sponsors always proved valuable—but the sight of Ling had unsettled her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. For the past few hours, Orm had felt like she was walking on tightrope heels, all balance and no breath.
Stepping onto a quiet balcony, she leaned against the ornate railing and inhaled deeply. The breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine, mingling with the city’s nightlife. She closed her eyes, letting the momentary solitude calm her racing thoughts.
Four years. That was how long it had been since she and Ling parted ways. Two years of love—and then a break so final it felt like a fracture. Their last argument had been raw and bitter, fueled by the stress of Ling’s big move to Hong Kong and Orm’s rising stardom in Thailand. And then there were the rumors… about her supposed affair with a co-star, an accusation that still stung.
She opened her eyes to a reflection of neon lights dancing on a neighboring glass skyscraper. Why does she always make my heart flutter? Is she still mad at me? The questions pulsed through her mind, but the answer was complicated. Seeing Ling across that glittering ballroom had brought every unspoken truth rushing back: how they’d never truly addressed the rumors, never found a middle ground for their dueling careers, never apologized for the hurts that still lingered.
A faint click of heels broke the silence. Orm glanced over her shoulder to see her manager, Peeyot, approaching with a gentle, concerned look. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, stopping a respectful distance away.
Orm’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “You know me—always okay,” she murmured, though her voice carried none of her usual breezy confidence.
Peeyot stepped closer, draping a light jacket over Orm’s shoulders. The evening chill was creeping in, and her sleeveless gown, while stunning, offered no warmth. “We can leave if you want,” he said softly. “I know this was tough.”
Orm turned back to the view, letting Bangkok’s skyline fill her vision. “I didn’t think it would be this hard,” she admitted. “After everything that’s happened, I really thought I was…past it.”
The manager’s sympathetic silence felt like an invitation to continue. But Orm just sighed, refusing to voice the swirling ache in her chest. Maybe it was a blend of guilt, regret, and longing—emotions she couldn’t afford to reveal. Her entire brand was built on composure and charm, and she couldn’t shatter that image in front of so many influential eyes.
“I saw her with Sui He,” she said finally, forcing steadiness into her voice. “They looked good together.” The admission tasted like heartbreak, but she managed to keep her tone even.
Peeyot nodded. “They’re a high-profile couple—everyone’s talking about it. But it doesn’t diminish what you two had.”
A tremor of resentment flared in Orm, then quickly fizzled into resignation. “No, maybe not,” she said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that what we had… ended.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city underscoring the unspoken tension. Finally, Peeyot gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “The sponsors are going to notice if you disappear too early. Let’s at least say goodnight to the organizers, then I’ll have a car waiting to take you home.”
Orm let out a long breath, steeling herself. “All right,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”
The lobby’s ornate marble floors and gilded ceilings provided a luxurious backdrop to a stream of departing guests. Orm followed Peeyot, offering polite farewells to familiar faces. Here and there, she caught flickers of conversation about “the Hong Kong superstar,” “Her girlfriend is magnificent” and it twisted her stomach into knots knowing they were talking about Ling. Or possibly about Sui He. Maybe both.
She signed a final event program, posed for a quick photo with a small group of sponsors, and excused herself. With each forced smile, her mind replayed that moment in the ballroom—her gaze meeting Ling’s, the space between them an invisible chasm.
In the plush back seat of the rented SUV, Orm stared out the window. Bangkok’s neon signs and late-night eateries blurred past, a vivid tapestry of life that usually energized her. Tonight, it only reminded her of how small she felt in this sprawling city.
Her phone buzzed: messages from co-stars, from friends who asked if she was still at the gala or if she’d gone to an after-party. She ignored them all, scanning headlines on social media instead:
“Ling Kwong Stuns at Radiance Gala, Arrives with Model Girlfriend Sui He.”
“Orm Kornnaphat & Ling Kwong: Ex-Lovers Share the Same Red Carpet for First Time in Years!”
Orm clenched her jaw, locking the screen and letting the phone slip into her clutch. Ex-lovers. The word felt too shallow to describe the mess of history and emotion between them.
Glancing at her own reflection in the tinted window, she saw a woman who had everything she’d once wanted—acclaim, wealth, millions of fans—but still couldn’t fully outrun her past. Part of her suspected that what happened with Ling was far from over. And that inevitability was as terrifying as it was compelling.
____
Nightfall in Bangkok sparkled through the panoramic windows of Lingling’s hotel suite. The bustling city spread below like a constellation—traffic lights, neon signs, and headlights weaving a living tapestry she could observe but not quite touch. Inside, the spacious suite seemed too quiet, its subtle luxury offering little comfort against the thoughts swirling in Ling’s mind.
She stood at the window, her midnight-blue gown pooling around her feet, a stark contrast to the bright city lights. Sui emerged from the adjoining room, now dressed in a comfortable silk robe. She moved gracefully, despite her own fatigue.
“How are you feeling?” Sui asked softly, settling behind Ling. Her reflection in the glass revealed concern etched on her elegant features.
Ling tried to muster a small smile. “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears.
They both knew that “fine” was a lie. The Radiance Gala had proven more overwhelming than expected—seeing Orm for the first time in four years, even from a distance, was like reopening a wound she’d only just begun to think had healed.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Sui murmured, gently placing a hand on Ling’s forearm. “I can tell it stirred up a lot.”
Ling’s eyes stung with unshed tears, but she blinked them away. She sighed, leaning her head against the cool glass. “I didn’t realize how powerful it would be... to see her. The memories just—came flooding back. I’m sorry”
Sui gave a slow, understanding nod. She glanced around the suite, where soft lighting reflected off polished marble floors. “I get it,” she said quietly. “It’s one thing to think about an ex, it’s another to see them, face to face… or even just across the room.” She paused, her gaze falling to the lights of Bangkok below. “I know how big a part of your life she was.”
The atmosphere felt thick, laden with things neither woman was fully ready to say. Ling broke the silence first, turning to look at Sui. “I’m sorry if tonight was uncomfortable for you. It couldn’t have been easy.”
A gentle, sad smile curved across Sui’s lips. “I’m not going to lie and say it was nothing. But I understand.” She reached out, sliding her fingers into Ling’s. “I just want to be here for you, whatever that means.”
Ling exhaled shakily, gratitude and guilt warring in her chest. She gave Sui’s hand a tender squeeze. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice strained. “I wish I could just forget everything from before… but a part of me still feels caught up in what Orm and I had. The way we ended—it was messy. We never really got closure, you know?”
Sui offered a sympathetic nod. “You might get that closure now, or maybe you’ll realize there’s more to say than you ever thought. But promise me to not go cheat on me or whatever” she continues laughing but an edge to her laugh could be heard.
They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, letting the hum of the air conditioning and the distant roar of the city fill the quiet. Eventually, Sui pressed a soft kiss to Ling’s temple. “I’ll get changed and make us some tea, okay? Try to wind down from tonight.”
Ling nodded, lingering a moment longer at the window, watching the lights flicker below. She felt the weight of the phone in her hand. Any minute, a news alert could pop up about the “near-reunion”—the tabloids already salivating over the idea of “LingOrm” sharing the same event.
Just as Ling turned away, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID: P’Mam. A prickle of dread ran through her—no doubt her agent wanted to discuss the potential fallout from tonight.
Ling stepped into the adjacent sitting area, sinking onto a plush sofa before tapping the screen. “P’Mam,” she greeted, trying to steady her voice.
“Ling!” her agent said in a rush. Ling could hear the controlled excitement in her tone. “Listen, there’s already buzz about you and Orm being in the same room. People are talking—speculating about possible collaborations or…other things. Just be prepared.”
Ling pressed her fingers to her temple. “I figured as much,” she replied quietly. “Any official statements you want me to make?”
“For now, we’ll keep it simple. Just express how happy you were to attend the gala and support Thai-Hong Kong collaborations. We’ll dodge any personal questions about Orm unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Understood,” Ling said. A flicker of relief passed through her—at least she wouldn’t have to spill her heart to the media just yet.
P’Mam hesitated. “Also, about the big Bangkok project: The producers want a meeting. They hinted that Orm might be involved, but it’s not confirmed. Are you still okay with proceeding?”
Ling’s heart pounded. A possible collaboration with Orm? The thought both thrilled and terrified her. She cleared her throat. “I can handle it,” she said, voice more resolute than she felt. “Let’s schedule the meeting.”
By the time Ling ended the call, she found Sui He in the small kitchenette, carefully pouring steaming water into two teacups. The soothing aroma of jasmine leaves curled into the air.
“Everything okay?” Sui asked gently, reading the strain on Ling’s face.
Ling took one of the cups, bringing it close to her lips but not sipping just yet. “P’Mam thinks there might be a collaboration with Orm… on the Bangkok project.” She inhaled, her tone subdued. “I said I’d go forward with it.”
Sui gazed at her in concern. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
Ling shrugged, giving a hollow laugh. “I’m not sure of anything right now. But I can’t run away from this forever—especially if this role is as big as they say it is. And honestly… maybe it’s time Orm and I faced each other.” The words lingered, resonating with a truth that made her chest tighten.
Sui reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Ling’s arm. “Whatever happens, I’m here,” she said, her voice soft but sure.
Ling blinked back a fresh wave of emotion, grateful for Sui’s understanding. “Thank you,” she managed. Then she lifted the teacup, blowing gently on the surface before taking a careful sip. The warmth seeped into her, momentarily comforting the swirl of uncertainty inside.
Outside, Bangkok stretched into the night, bright and unapologetic. Tomorrow would bring new headlines, new questions, and maybe a step closer to the closure—if there was such a thing—that both she and Orm so desperately needed.
__________
Orm closed the door to her condo with a soft click, exhaling the tension she’d held in tight coils all evening. The hush of the upscale apartment enveloped her, a stark contrast to the glittering chaos she’d just left behind at the gala. She slipped off her heels, placing them near a row of similarly extravagant footwear—one of the small indulgences her career had afforded her.
She was about to head to the kitchen for some water when her phone buzzed in her clutch. Sasha. A faint, wry smile tugged at Orm’s lips. Sasha was a recent fixture in her life—an alluring presence she’d met at an afterparty a few weeks back. Their connection was simple, if not shallow: physical comfort, late-night conversation, no strings. Exactly what Orm thought she needed. Or so she told herself.
Orm swiped the screen. “Hey,” she said, her voice still carrying the fatigue of the night.
“Didn’t think you’d pick up,” Sasha teased, her voice warm with a hint of mischief. “Heard you were at that big gala. Pretty sure half the city was live-streaming it.”
Orm’s gaze drifted to the tall windows overlooking Bangkok’s neon skyline. She pressed her lips together, recalling the moment she locked eyes with Ling across the ballroom. “Yeah, well. I’m home now,” she murmured.
“Need company?” There was no coyness in Sasha’s tone, only a direct, knowing invitation.
Orm hesitated, recalling her manager’s advice to get some rest. But the condo felt too large and empty for her swirling thoughts. “Sure,” she said quietly. “Door’s open.”
Twenty minutes later, Sasha sauntered through the door, a light floral scent preceding her. Dressed in sleek black jeans and a loose silk blouse, she radiated casual confidence. Orm admired the easy sway of her hips as she made her way inside.
The greeting was brief—an exchange of small smiles—before Sasha closed the distance between them, leaning in for a quick but lingering kiss. Orm returned it mechanically at first, trying to push away the image of Ling from her mind.
“You seem tense,” Sasha observed when they finally broke apart. She arched an eyebrow, scanning Orm’s face with concern laced behind her cool, playful demeanor.
Orm sighed, taking Sasha’s hand and leading her to the plush sofa in her dimly lit living room. She collapsed onto the cushions, letting her head rest against the high back. “Long night,” she said, half-lidded eyes betraying her exhaustion.
Sasha settled beside her, crossing her legs elegantly. “I saw photos of you at the gala,” she said, scrolling on her phone until she found a shot of Orm in her tailored ensemble, stepping onto the red carpet. Another swipe, and there it was: a picture of Ling nearby. The tabloids were already running with the storyline. “Seems like your ex is back in town. But not alone too”
Orm swallowed. The flash of that paparazzi photo—a moment capturing both her and Ling in the same frame—stirred a hollow ache in her chest. “Everyone’s talking about it,” she answered, her voice tight.
Sasha studied Orm’s expression, then reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Orm’s ear. “That’s because everyone knows you’re not really over her,” she said gently, no accusation in her tone. It was more a statement of fact.
Orm closed her eyes, letting the truth sink in. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, genuine regret coloring her voice. She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for being stuck in the past or for dragging Sasha into her personal turmoil. Maybe both.
Sasha tilted Orm’s chin up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t be. We both knew what this was,” she said softly. “You needed a distraction. I’m okay with that—just don’t expect me to perform miracles on a broken heart.”
Orm let out a mirthless chuckle, leaning forward until her forehead brushed Sasha’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t even know what to ask for,” she confessed. “I thought I had moved on, but seeing her… the way my chest tightened… it’s like no time has passed.”
Sasha’s fingers threaded gently through Orm’s hair, offering comfort without pressing for more details. “Love messes people up, especially when it doesn’t end the way you hoped,” she murmured. “But hey—I’m here if you need me. For tonight, at least.” Her lips quirked in a slight smile.
Orm lingered in the warmth of that moment, grateful for the physical solace Sasha provided. But in the back of her mind, Ling’s face wouldn’t fade. She could still hear the echo of applause in the ballroom, feel the weight of that single glance across the crowd. It stung more than she cared to admit.
They migrated from the sofa to the bedroom, letting the hush of Orm’s spacious condo envelop them. Sasha trailed kisses along Orm’s jawline, coaxing her into a realm of temporary forgetting. But even as her pulse fluttered and her breath caught, Orm’s mind drifted—haunted by memories of another time, another woman.
Afterwards, they lay side by side, the city glow filtering through sheer curtains. Sasha dozed lightly, her arm draped across Orm’s waist. Orm stared up at the ceiling, searching for peace in the mosaic of shadows cast by the streetlights. She felt Sasha’s steady breathing against her skin—a tangible reminder that she wasn’t alone physically, though her heart remained in solitary turmoil.
I shouldn’t be doing this, she thought, guilt and longing twisting her stomach. Yet she knew she’d take any balm against the heartache that had resurfaced tonight. Silence stretched, heavy and reflective. Outside, a siren wailed faintly in the distance, a reminder that the city never truly slept.
Turning slightly, Orm pressed a tender kiss to Sasha’s forehead. She appreciated the other woman’s honesty and her acceptance of Orm’s limitations. But she also recognized that what lay between them was only a short reprieve from the deeper wound that continued to ache.
As the clock neared two in the morning, Orm’s phone buzzed again—another flood of messages from reporters, producers, and maybe even supportive fans. She swiped them away, not in the mood to respond. One notification in particular caught her eye: a gossip article proclaiming, “Ling Kwong and Orm Kornnaphat: Gala Sparks Hope for Reunion?”
Orm’s pulse tightened. She dimmed the screen, unwilling to let the rumors rile her any further. Yet she couldn’t deny the flicker of yearning. Hope for a reunion—the tabloids thrived on sensationalism, but some part of her wished it was more than clickbait. Some part of her wondered if they might finally confront the past that lingered like a ghost between them.
Sasha stirred, half-awake, murmuring Orm’s name in drowsy affection. Orm brushed a comforting hand down Sasha’s arm, settling her back into sleep. Then she stared again at the dark ceiling, the city lights dancing faintly above, her mind replaying that distant glimpse of Ling across the gala floor.
One day, Orm thought, exhaustion coursing through her veins, I’ll figure out how to face her—and how to live with the choices we made. Until then, she’d remain caught in the tangled space between longing, regret, and the fleeting escapes she found in arms that weren’t really her own.
_______
Lingling sat across a polished wooden table in the business lounge of her hotel, a discreet jazz track playing faintly in the background. She was still wearing the remnants of last night’s gala makeup, though her midnight-blue gown had been swapped for a crisp blouse and trousers. Opposite her, P’Mam scrolled through her tablet with the brisk efficiency of a seasoned agent.
“Alright, Ling,” P’Mam began, setting the device down. “We need to talk about this new project. It’s not just a single film or a cameo; it’s a GL TV series that aims to unite the biggest GL couples in the Thai industry. Think of it as a star-studded ensemble, a major event—maybe even a phenomenon—drawing fans from Thailand, Hong Kong, and beyond.”
Ling raised an eyebrow, sipping her coffee as she tried to shake off her lingering fatigue. “I thought we were focusing on film roles for me here in Bangkok. How does a TV series fit into that?”
P’Mam offered a half-smile. “It’s huge, Ling. The production team is inviting multiple GL ‘power couples’ to participate—Englot, FreenBecky, LMSY, MilkLove... and, yes, LingOrm is on that list.”
A flicker of anxiety darted through Ling’s eyes. “So they… specifically want me and Orm together?” She couldn’t ignore the twist in her stomach at the thought of working side by side with the ex she’d barely managed to face at the gala.
P’Mam nodded. “They’re banking on the chemistry and star power. Even though you and Orm—well—aren’t an item anymore, the industry still talks about you two. And with your success in Hong Kong, you bring international appeal.” She paused, scanning Ling’s reaction. “They want to do a multi-episode show, each couple headlining certain arcs. It’s ambitious—part romantic drama, part variety, part behind-the-scenes. Fans will eat it up.”
Ling inhaled slowly, recalling Orm’s face across the ballroom. She’d run away from that life once before. But this was a colossal opportunity—a chance to reconnect with her Thai audience, to break further into the Asian TV market, and possibly… to find some closure, if that was even possible. “I’ll consider it,” she said at last, voice subdued.
P’Mam gave her a supportive smile. “That’s all I ask. We’ll talk details soon. But fair warning—Orm will be your screen partner again. If you sign on, you will have to see her regularly.”
Ling nodded, heart thudding. “I know.”
_________
Orm stood on the balcony of her condo, Bangkok’s skyline a hazy backdrop in the morning light. She cradled a mug of tea while her manager, Peeyot, flipped through a stack of documents on a nearby table. Sasha had slipped out earlier, leaving Orm alone with her tangled thoughts.
“All right, Orm,” Peeyot said, clearing his throat. “Here’s the gist: a major production company is assembling a GL series with top couples. We’re talking Englot, FreenBecky, LM Sy, MilkLove—and they really want you and Ling together on screen, for the first time since…” He let the sentence hang, not wanting to stir up painful memories.
Orm braced against the balcony railing, the recent memory of seeing Ling at the gala fresh in her mind. She steadied her voice. “They’re… serious about this?”
“Dead serious,” Peeyot confirmed. “They’re putting a massive budget behind it. They want each couple to co-lead different story arcs—love stories, comedic segments, possibly even variety-show-style challenges. They think it’ll draw huge domestic and international audiences.”
Orm set her tea down, focusing on the city’s skyline to calm her nerves. “And Ling’s already in talks?”
“Likely,” Peeyot admitted, shuffling papers. “Her agent hasn’t given a hard yes or no yet, but the producers are confident they can sign her.”
A swirl of unresolved emotions churned in Orm’s chest. Their relationship had ended four years ago over clashing ambitions, rumors, and heartbreak. Now, ironically, their soaring careers threatened to bring them back together on a scale more public than ever.
She exhaled a shaky breath. “Financially and publicity-wise, it’s a dream project,” she said quietly, echoing what she knew Peeyot wanted to hear. “But personally…”
Peeyot’s voice softened. “I get it, Orm. No one’s forcing you. But the producers have a vision, and it involves tapping into your… undeniable synergy. Even if the two of you aren’t a real couple anymore, fans still remember what you once had.”
Orm frowned slightly, remembering the hush at the gala when they’d spotted each other. The possibility of reuniting on screen—reliving the intimacy they once shared, even in a fictional context—felt both thrilling and terrifying. “Let me think about it,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the bustling city below.
Meanwhile, on social media and entertainment sites, headlines blared:
“Grand GL Project Teases All-Star Couples: Will LingOrm Reunite on Screen?”
“FreenBecky, Englot, LM Sy, MilkLove—and surprise pair—Set to Star in Epic New Series.”
Fans speculated wildly on Twitter, Instagram, and popular forums:
“Omg, if LingOrm is back, I’ll lose my mind!”
“Don’t do it, Ling! She hurt you. #TeamLing”
“Be smarter Orm! Ling is taken now! Take care baby #TeamOrm”
“They were the OG GL power couple—this is going to blow up!”
With each passing hour, the buzz grew. Ling and Orm found themselves plastered on gossip sites, fan edits, and video compilations celebrating (or lamenting) the potential reunion. Their managers did their best to maintain a semblance of calm, but the media frenzy was inescapable.
Two Days Later, Ling and Orm both receive simultaneous calls from the project’s lead producer, who confirms:
“We’re extending official offers to all the top GL couples, including you two. We’ll have an ensemble cast, with each couple getting a major story arc. The show will blend scripted drama, real-life behind-the-scenes footage, and promotional events. We truly believe fans around the world will be hooked.”
Individually, Ling and Orm decide to accept the challenge—each for her own reasons. Ling sees a chance to confront the painful past in a controlled environment and maybe achieve real closure. Orm recognizes the project’s career potential and, deep down, feels an unspoken hope that she and Ling could resolve what once tore them apart.
When the producer promises a grand press conference to announce the official cast, both women feel their hearts flutter. In a matter of weeks, they’ll stand side by side with Englot, FreenBecky, LM Sy, and MilkLove to introduce the grand GL series that has the entire industry—and fans worldwide—buzzing with anticipation.
A low hum of quiet conversation filled the private meeting room at a chic Bangkok café. P’Mam, dressed in a sleek blazer and holding a folder of contracts, sat across from Peeyot, who scrolled through messages on his phone. The two agents had agreed to meet ahead of the official casting announcements for the highly anticipated GL TV series—a project certain to command massive viewership across Asia.
Outside, the afternoon sun streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the modern décor. A soft jazz tune played in the background, lending a deceptively relaxed air to what would be a tense discussion.
P’Mam cleared her throat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet, Peeyot. I think it’s crucial we sort out some details before Ling and Orm attend that production meeting next week.”
Peeyot looked up from his phone and offered a polite smile. “Likewise, P’Mam. The show producers are putting a lot on our plate, and Orm wants clarity before she commits a hundred percent.”
P’Mam nodded, sliding over a small stack of papers. “Yes, same for Ling. Obviously, the biggest question is the on-screen chemistry between the two. The producers want something authentic, especially for old fans who remember them from previous events—and for new fans who might be discovering them for the first time.”
“Exactly,” Peeyot agreed. “They’re asking for some sort of chemistry test or workshop, to see if Ling and Orm can still…spark, I guess.” He flipped through the top pages, scanning the proposed schedules. “They mentioned filming a short concept trailer featuring all the GL couples. A test run, basically.”
A flicker of hesitation crossed P’Mam’s face. “Ling’s open to it. But she wants to be sure Orm is comfortable, too. Their breakup was… complicated.”
Peeyot’s voice softened. “Orm’s aware this won’t be easy. It’s been four years since they’ve performed—or even been in the same room—together for more than a few seconds. But she’s willing to try.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Especially after everything with Mae Koy.”
At the mention of Orm’s mother, P’Mam inclined her head empathetically. “How is Mae Koy these days? I heard she’s been sick.”
Peeyot let out a quiet sigh. “She’s stable for now, but she needed full-time care two years ago, which is why Orm asked me to step in as her manager. Mae Koy was fantastic at guiding Orm’s early career, but her health took precedence. Now she’s just trying to rest and recover—and, of course, she’s still Orm’s mom, always giving moral support. But day-to-day management? That’s on me.”
“That’s understandable,” P’Mam said gently. “Health comes first. I hope she recovers soon.”
Peeyot offered a small, grateful smile. “We all do.”
The two lapsed into a brief, reflective silence—reminded that behind the glitz of celebrity life were real human struggles. Eventually, P’Mam tapped the folder on the table, steering the conversation back.
“So, let’s talk specifics,” she continued. “The producers are proposing a mini chemistry read next week, followed by a private workshop supervised by the showrunner. It’s set for Tuesday morning at GMM Studios. They want to film some behind-the-scenes footage to use in the teaser trailer. Nothing too invasive—just basic character interactions.”
Peeyot scanned the schedule, nodding slowly. “Alright. Orm’s currently filming an ad campaign on Monday, but we can shuffle things around. She’ll be free Tuesday. Is Ling okay with that date?”
P’Mam pulled up her own calendar. “Yes, that works. She’ll wrap up an interview on Monday, then we can head over to the studio early Tuesday.” She paused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between us, though, do you think Orm’s ready to work so closely with Ling? There’s going to be a lot of… emotional baggage stirred up.”
Peeyot considered the question, a hint of hesitation creeping into his eyes. “Orm’s not the type to shy away from a challenge. But, privately, she’s anxious. The gala was a wake-up call. Seeing Ling from afar reminded her just how unresolved everything was.” He pursed his lips. “Still, the series is a golden opportunity—for both of them. If they can reignite their on-screen spark, it could be huge.”
P’Mam exhaled, absorbing his words. “Ling’s anxious, too. But she’s also determined to prove she can handle this professionally. Maybe it’ll even help them find some closure.”
They shared a thoughtful look. For a moment, they were just two people hoping their clients could balance professional demands with personal healing. The stakes were high, financially and emotionally.
“Alright,” P’Mam concluded, gathering her documents. “Let’s confirm the mini workshop for Tuesday. I’ll make sure Ling knows it’s happening bright and early. The production team will run them through some script excerpts—light dialogue, maybe a brief scene to test emotional range. We’ll emphasize that it’s strictly business, though you and I both know the media will jump at any sign of real chemistry.”
Peeyot chuckled wryly. “They always do. We’ll keep it as low-key as possible until the official announcement, but, well…this is LingOrm we’re talking about.” He stood up, extending a hand toward P’Mam. “We’ll keep each other in the loop, right?”
P’Mam rose as well, shaking his hand firmly. “Absolutely. Here’s to a smooth workshop and a positive result for everyone.”
______
Orm stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of her condo, gazing out at Bangkok’s sprawling skyline. The midday sun glinted off towering skyscrapers, a city humming with life. But for Orm, the world felt strangely still—like she was holding her breath, waiting for something inevitable. In just a few days, she’d be face-to-face with the woman she’d never truly stopped loving.
She absently drummed her fingers on the windowsill, recalling the words of her manager, Peeyot, earlier that morning:
“We have the chemistry workshop set for next Tuesday. You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
Orm had nodded, feigning a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “I can handle it,” she’d said. Now, alone in her condo, those words echoed hollowly in her mind.
A buzz from her phone drew her attention. She glanced down—messages from friends, a note from Sasha checking in about weekend plans. She hesitated, part of her tempted to invite Sasha over for a distraction. No, she decided, pressing the phone to her chest for a moment before setting it aside. She needed her thoughts clear this time; muddling her emotions with another fleeting hookup wouldn’t help.
She walked toward the sofa, each step weighed down by memories. Four years had passed since she last stood close enough to Ling to feel the warmth of her presence, to see those soft, determined eyes without the glare of cameras. Now they’d have to perform together again, forced into proximity for a role that demanded a spark—the same spark she once held so intimately.
Orm sank onto the cushions, inhaling deeply. What if she hates me? she wondered, the question lodging in her heart like a thorn. What if all that’s left between us is bitterness and regret?
Yet another voice in her head whispered, But what if…there’s still something worth saving?
Outside, Bangkok’s noise carried on—a reminder that the world wouldn’t pause for her personal crisis. With a resigned sigh, Orm snatched a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, steeling herself for the days to come. Whether the old wounds had healed or not, she’d soon find out.
Meanwhile, Lingling paced around her hotel suite, her anxious energy making the spacious room feel impossibly small. She’d just gotten off a call with P’Mam confirming final details for the chemistry test—costume fits, lighting checks, script read-throughs. The manager had rattled off the schedule with clinical efficiency, but Ling’s heart pounded at each mention of Orm’s name.
Sui He watched from the couch, concern flickering in her eyes. After a moment, she set aside the fashion magazine she’d been pretend-reading. “You look like you’re trying to wear out the carpet,” she said softly, a wry attempt at humor.
Ling paused her pacing, forcing a half-smile. “Sorry,” she murmured, sinking onto the cushions beside Sui. “I’m just…so nervous about this workshop. I haven’t been alone with Orm in four years. And now we’re supposed to act like…like everything’s professional.”
Sui nodded slowly, slipping her hand into Ling’s. “I get it,” she said, her voice measured. “It’s like being thrown back into a past you thought you’d left behind.”
Ling let out a shaky laugh. “Exactly. I can’t shake the feeling that once we’re together, everything we never said… might come rushing out. Or worse, we’ll just keep pretending, for the cameras.” She brushed her free hand across her face, as though trying to wipe away the tension.
A flicker of emotion crossed Sui’s expression—something tight and uncertain, gone in an instant. She squeezed Ling’s hand in gentle support. “You’ll handle it,” she assured, though her throat felt taut. “You’re strong, and you’ve grown so much since then.” Her words were sincere, but a tiny voice in her head whispered that maybe LingOrm’s bond was deeper than she’d ever understand. Fear licked at her heart, though she hid it behind a calm exterior.
Ling studied Sui’s features, noticing the slight tension around her eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, “I know this can’t be easy for you. I’m sorry—”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Sui interrupted, managing a small smile. “I knew you had a history with Orm. It’s just… part of you. If being in this show with her is good for your career—and maybe helps you both finally get closure—then I’ll support you.” Her voice faltered for a moment before she steadied it again. “Just promise me you’ll keep me in the loop. No shutting me out, okay?”
Ling’s eyes brimmed with gratitude. She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Sui’s cheek. “Thank you. I promise,” she whispered, pulling back to meet Sui’s gaze. “I adore you for understanding.”
A flicker of uncertainty stirred beneath Sui’s composed expression. Does she love me enough not to be swayed by Orm? The unspoken question hovered, but she swallowed it down. Now wasn’t the time for insecurity.
Ling exhaled a long breath. “I guess all I can do is face it head-on,” she murmured.
Sui nodded, brushing her thumb gently over Ling’s knuckles. “And I’ll be right here when you come home,” she said, her tone warm yet tinged with a quiet protectiveness.
For a few moments, they sat in comfortable silence, hands entwined. Outside, the buzz of Bangkok flowed through the hotel windows—a distant reminder that their personal dramas existed against a backdrop of bright lights and relentless headlines. Soon enough, Ling would walk into that studio, Orm would be there, and they’d both have to discover if the old spark had truly died, or if it still glowed beneath the layers of time and hurt.
Unaware of each other’s parallel anxieties, Ling and Orm prepared for a reunion that would test their boundaries, reopen old wounds, and—just possibly—illuminate the path toward something neither had dared to hope for in a very long time.