Another Chance

Ling's vision blurred with tears, hands gripping the steering wheel as though her life depended on it. Her heart hammered relentlessly, every beat a painful reminder of Orm’s broken face, pleading eyes, and desperate voice. Each streetlight flashing by seemed to mock her turmoil, casting eerie shadows that deepened her loneliness.
She parked haphazardly outside her hotel, stumbling inside blindly, fighting to keep control until she reached the quiet solitude of her suite. Her breath came in shuddering gasps as she leaned heavily against the door, sliding down until she sat numbly on the floor, her hands pressed over her aching chest.
Junji appeared rushing forward immediately, her face etched with worry. "Ling, what happened? Did you—"
Ling looked up, her eyes raw and wounded. "She swears she didn't do anything, Junji. But the photos... God, they looked so real. I just don’t know. I don’t trust her… But at the same time it feels off…"
Junji knelt beside her, gently taking Ling’s trembling hands into her own. "Ling, sometimes seeing isn't believing. Orm looked genuinely devastated— Maybe this was a setup. You need to take your time about all this."
Ling shook her head, bitterly wiping away fresh tears. "It’s not just the pictures. It's everything. She didn’t come after me all those years ago, and now, just when I'm opening up, this happens? Maybe I was wrong to believe she’s changed. I don’t know what to do or how to feel…"
Junji softly brushed Ling’s hair aside, voice gentle but firm. "Ling, people make mistakes, terrible ones sometimes. But if you truly love her, don’t let doubt steal your chance at happiness again."
Ling looked away, eyes distant, heart heavy with uncertainty and fear, the thought terrifying her more than anything else.
______

Orm stood alone in her darkened living room, haunted by the ghost of Ling's anger. Every harsh word, every tearful accusation replayed mercilessly in her mind. She stumbled toward the sofa, collapsing onto it, pressing her hands against her eyes, desperate to erase the painful memories.
Mae Koy appeared quietly, watching her daughter’s pain with a breaking heart. She sat beside Orm, gently placing a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder.
"Orm," Mae’s voice whispered softly, filled with warmth and compassion, "you can't lose hope."
Orm looked up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "How can I fix this, Mae? She doesn't trust me anymore. She’s slipping away, again, and it’s all my fault. I am so stupid, I don’t know why I keep dragging myself into these mess"
Mae Koy’s grip tightened, her voice unwavering. "You show her that your love is real. Fight harder, Orm. You have to prove to Ling you’re not the same person who let her walk away. You need to try harder if you really love her."
Orm nodded weakly, her breath hitching. "But what if it’s already too late?"
Mae cupped Orm’s face tenderly, forcing her to look up. "Then you fight anyway. Because the kind of love you two share is rare, worth every bit of pain. Don’t let fear silence your heart again. But you need to work hard to get her back sweetheart. You broke her heart."
Orm clung to her mother, quietly absorbing her strength, feeling the smallest flicker of hope ignite within her broken soul.
______

Ling’s tears refused to stop, even in the subdued hush of early morning. She sat slumped against the suite’s floor-to-ceiling window, Bangkok’s neon skyline fading into a pale dawn behind her. Outside, the city teetered on the edge of a new day—just as she felt herself teeter on the edge of a decision she couldn’t see clearly. Her reflection in the glass looked haggard, haunted. She didn’t sleep, not even for a moment. Every time she closed her eyes, Orm’s face rose in her thoughts—broken, desperate, and pleading.
Junji hovered nearby, the worry on her face matching Ling’s own torment. A once-untouched cup of chamomile tea sat on the table between them, its steam long gone. Ling pressed her palms to her temples, as if she could somehow keep all the memories—every whispered promise and every painful rumor—from crushing her.
“Ling,” Junji finally said, gentle but firm. “You have to rest. Even a little. This… this state you’re in won’t help anyone.”
Ling squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing back a sob. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” she admitted in a small voice. “I told her I didn’t trust her. But that look on her face, the way she begged me to believe her…” Her voice trailed off, replaced by the soft hiss of her breath in the silence.
Junji knelt beside her, resting a hand on Ling’s shoulder. “Your heart’s not sure who to believe—the pictures or the person. I get it. But if you don’t truly believe she could’ve done this, maybe it’s time to start asking some hard questions. Pictures can lie.”
Ling let out a hollow laugh, a wave of misery washing over her. “Then why didn’t she come after me all those years ago? She left me alone with rumors swirling, pictures circulating… She never once fought for me, Junji. I’m terrified she’ll let me go all over again the minute things get hard.” Her voice cracked, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.
Junji closed her eyes, recalling the aftermath of that fateful breakup—how she’d spent nights consoling an inconsolable Ling. “You’re both different people now,” she murmured gently. “But if she’s truly changed, you have to give her the chance to prove it.”
Ling stared at the condensation on the window, her breath fogging the glass. “What if I’m too afraid to let her prove it?” she whispered. “What if my heart can’t take another break?”
Junji stroked her back gently, offering the only comfort she could. “Maybe being afraid is okay. Maybe it means you still care enough to be hurt.”
Ling’s chest felt too tight to respond, so she simply nodded, letting the silence stretch between them—a quiet pact, a sliver of solace in the throes of her heartbreak.
____

Across the city, Orm stood in her apartment’s small kitchenette, arms braced on the cold counter, staring blankly at her phone. The words from Mae Koy still played on an endless loop in her mind: “You fight anyway. The kind of love you two share is worth every bit of pain.”
Her pulse pounded so hard, she wondered if it might burst. She wanted to text Ling, call her, run to her—but fear anchored her in place. Their last meeting had ended in a storm of accusations and tears, leaving Orm torn between guilt and an ever-growing desperation to be believed.
A faint shuffle behind her signaled Mae Koy’s presence. Despite her fragile health, she had woken early, concern etched in the delicate lines around her eyes. She approached slowly, leaning against the doorway for balance.
“Orm,” Mae Koy said quietly, “you’ve been standing there for nearly an hour. Have you eaten anything?”
Orm swallowed hard, not trusting her voice. She reached blindly for the glass of water at her side, taking a shaky sip before turning to face her mother. “I’m not hungry,” she mumbled. “I just… I can’t believe how quickly it all unraveled.”
Mae Koy moved closer, placing a hand over her daughter’s. “All these years, you two have danced around the truth and let misunderstandings fester. If you truly want her back, you need to be honest—about the pictures, about the rumors, about everything. Show her you’re not that scared, uncertain girl anymore.”
Orm felt tears pricking her eyes. “I… I don’t even know where to start,” she said, her voice breaking. “All these new pictures, these allegations—someone is clearly trying to sabotage us. But how do I prove it to her?” She turned away, bracing her palms on the counter as though it might steady her trembling soul. “What if she hates me too much to see the truth?”
Mae Koy’s voice was resolute, but her touch remained gentle. “Love doesn’t dissolve into hate that easily. She may be angry and hurt, but underneath all that, there’s a piece of her that still loves you. Sometimes we have to fight for that piece, even if it’s buried deep.”
Orm nodded through silent tears, the enormity of the task pressing down on her. “I’ll find a way,” she whispered, as though to convince herself. “I don’t care what it costs—if someone set me up, I’ll expose them. Ling deserves the truth. She deserves more than rumors and heartbreak.”
Mae Koy pulled her into another hug, heart aching at the raw desperation in Orm’s voice. “That’s my girl,” she whispered, stroking Orm’s hair with a mother’s unwavering tenderness. “Don’t give up. Not again.”
____

Late morning light streamed into Ling’s hotel suite, the once-peaceful sanctuary now charged with tension. Junji had stepped out to give her some space, leaving her alone with too many thoughts. Tucked against the plush pillows of her bed, Ling scrolled through the scandalous tabloid headlines flooding her phone.

Her heart twisted painfully. Each article seemed to twist the dagger deeper, every comment section brimming with speculation. Some fans took Orm’s side, calling Ling too stubborn to hear the truth. Others sided with Ling, sure Orm was repeating old patterns and blaming her for not trusting enough. Neither version comforted her.
A knock at the door jolted her from her spiral. She hastily wiped her tears, putting on a mask of composure. “Come in,” she called out, voice slightly unsteady.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Junji. Mae Koy slipped into the suite, her posture frail yet poised, the lines of her face painted with concern. Ling’s breath caught at the sight of Orm’s mother; she hadn’t spoken to Mae Koy directly in years—only through cursory holiday greetings or messages passed by mutual friends.
“Mae Koy?” Ling managed, standing up so quickly her knee hit the corner of the coffee table. She winced but tried to hide the jolt of pain. “W-What are you doing here?”
Mae Koy offered a tentative smile, the sadness in her eyes mirroring Ling’s. “I needed to see you,” she said softly. “I hope you don’t mind. Junji let me in.”
Ling’s racing heart stammered. She vaguely wondered how Mae Koy had found her. Junji, she realized, and a flash of gratitude and dread warred inside her. “Of course not,” she said, gesturing to a seat. “Please… come in.”
Mae Koy took a slow breath, sinking onto the edge of an armchair. For a moment, she simply observed Ling—this woman who had once been a beloved part of their family, practically a daughter, now so painfully distant. “I’ve watched Orm these past weeks, barely eating, hardly sleeping,” she began. “She’s unraveling, Ling. And so are you, I suspect.”
Ling swallowed, forcing her voice to stay calm. “I can’t force myself to believe her if these pictures—”
“They’re fake,” Mae Koy interrupted, her tone fierce despite her frailness. “I don’t know who’s behind them or why. But I know my daughter. She’d never hurt you like that again. Not when I’ve watched her regret and atone for the last four years.”
Tears gathered in Ling’s eyes, the confusion in her heart roaring to life once more. “I want to believe that. God, Mae, I do. But my head keeps saying I’m a fool to open my heart again—especially after how we ended.”
Mae Koy’s expression gentled. “Love demands vulnerability, Ling. It always has, and it always will. If you two truly want another chance, you need to stand together against the lies—fight to understand each other. It won’t be easy. But ignoring your pain won’t make it vanish.”
Ling’s voice trembled. “What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t forgive her for disappearing from my life when I needed her most? Even if someone faked these pictures, that doesn’t erase the past.”
Mae Koy’s eyes shimmered with sympathy. “Then tell her,” she said quietly. “Tell her you’re hurt. Tell her what you truly needed back then. Let her fight for you now, Ling. Because she will—and if she doesn’t, then you’ll have your answer. But right now, she’s lost without you. And I think you’re lost without her, too.”
A tear slipped down Ling’s cheek. In that moment, she hated how much she agreed—how much she wanted to be found by Orm again, how incomplete she felt holding onto old wounds. She thought of Orm’s shattered expression in the car, how her entire being had cried out for Ling to believe her, to stay.
Mae Koy stood, the exertion visible in her wavering steps. Ling quickly moved to help, placing a steadying hand on her arm. “Thank you,” Mae Koy murmured, gently patting Ling’s fingers. “I’ll leave you to think. But remember this: I’m not telling you to blindly forgive. I’m telling you not to let fear be the only voice you hear.”
Ling helped Mae Koy to the door, her mind spinning with a thousand questions. Before leaving, Mae Koy turned one last time, voice trembling with earnest hope. “You two have a love worth saving—even if it’s cracked and bruised. Don’t let the shadows win.”
Then, in a rustle of quiet footsteps, Orm’s mother slipped away, leaving Ling alone with a heartbreak so massive it felt like the room might collapse under its weight.
____
Orm flipped through digital copies of the incriminating photos for what felt like the hundredth time, each pixel scrutinized with desperate intensity. She was at her dining table, laptop open, trying to dissect every detail that might hint at forgery—a mismatched shadow here, an odd angle there. Yet all she saw were images that told the world she had betrayed Ling.
Kwang arrived soon after, dropping a folder of printed screenshots on the table. “Got them from a friend of mine in the media,” he explained, pushing up his glasses. “If they’re doctored, they did a damn good job. But look—see how the light on your cheek doesn’t match the rest of the room?”
Orm leaned in, her pulse quickening. Indeed, there was a faint discrepancy in the way the shadow fell across “her” face. “That’s not my face angle,” she muttered, hope igniting. “Even if it’s subtle, it’s a mismatch.”
Kwang nodded, mouth set in a grim line. “That’s what I thought. This might be the clue we need to prove the pictures are fake. But it’ll take more than pointing out a suspicious shadow to convince the public—and Ling.”
Orm clenched her fists. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said, voice laced with determination. “I need a professional forensic analysis, statements from people who saw me at that time, security footage—anything. I’m done letting rumors and sabotage define us.”
A spark of admiration shone in Kwang’s eyes. “That’s the Orm I know,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But you have to tell Ling what you’re doing. She needs to see you fighting for her—for once.”
Orm swallowed, recalling her mother’s words to fight harder, to prove her love rather than run from it. She opened her phone, hesitating for a long moment before typing a text:
Ling… I know you have no reason to believe me right now. But please—I’m trying to prove these photos are fake. I’ll show you everything I find. Just… let me try. Let me fight for you. I’m sorry for every doubt I ever caused you. –Ormie
Her finger hovered over the send button. Pain and longing warred within her, but eventually, her resolve won. She pressed “send” and felt her heart slam into her ribcage, imagining Ling’s reaction. Would she ignore it? Block her?
“I sent it,” she whispered to Kwang, who offered a supportive nod.
“Then we wait,” he said. “And we work. Let’s get on that forensic analysis. The sooner you have tangible proof, the sooner you can hand it to Ling—and the tabloids—on a silver platter.”
Orm exhaled, a fragile determination threading through her grief. For the first time in days, she felt the slightest tug of hope. If there was any chance to rebuild what she had shattered years ago, it had to start here—with truth, perseverance, and a love she still believed in, no matter how fractured.
Ling’s phone buzzed with a familiar ringtone, the abrupt sound slicing through her haze of heartbreak. She glanced at the screen, pulse leaping painfully at the sight of Orm’s name. Her first instinct was to silence it, to bury her head under the pillows and shut out the confusion. Instead, she answered, pressing the phone to her ear in shaky silence.
A hesitant breath echoed on the other end before Orm’s voice broke through, low and raw. “Ling… hi.”
Ling closed her eyes, tears slipping free again. The mere sound of Orm’s voice made her ache. “Why are you calling?” she managed, though the words lacked any real bite.
“I—I sent you a text,” Orm stammered. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I needed to know you got it. I swear, I’m trying to prove these pictures aren’t real. I can’t lose you over a lie.”
Ling’s breath caught, a potent cocktail of longing, anger, and hesitant hope surging through her. “And what if you can’t prove it?” she whispered, voice laced with heartbreak. “What if—”
“Then I’ll still keep trying,” Orm cut in, desperation tinging her tone. “I never fought for you before. I ran away, I let rumors take over. But I’m not that coward anymore. Please… just let me show you who I’ve become.”
Ling’s free hand curled into a fist at her side, nails biting into her palm. She wanted to fling accusations at Orm—Where were you when I was alone? Why didn’t you chase after me back then? But the broken plea in Orm’s voice halted her.
“We both know how badly we messed up,” Ling said at last, her voice trembling with suppressed tears. “I’m not promising anything. But… if those photos really are fake…” She paused, swallowing the painful knot in her throat. “Show me. Show me proof, Ormie.”
Hearing the old pet name slip out, Ling’s voice cracked. She remembered a thousand stolen kisses, shared dreams, the sound of Orm’s laughter in the small hours of the night. Ormie. It tasted bittersweet on her tongue.
Orm breathed out a ragged sigh of relief. “I will. And if… if I do, if you believe me, can we at least talk about… us?”
Silence blanketed the line. Ling closed her eyes against the tidal wave of memories. “Okay,” she said at last, so quietly Orm barely heard it. “I owe you that much. But I’m not promising forgiveness—just a conversation.”
A soft hitch in Orm’s breath told Ling how much that single, fragile promise meant. “Thank you,” Orm whispered. “That’s all I’m asking.”
They lingered for a moment in the hush that followed, hearts pounding with equal parts fear and longing. Then, without formal goodbyes, they hung up—each clinging to the faint light of possibility. A crack in the wall, a momentary ceasefire in a war they never wanted to wage.
Ling sat there long after the call ended, phone clutched against her chest. Maybe it was foolish, but she allowed herself one tiny moment of relief—Orm’s trying. Perhaps this was the first step toward unraveling the lies and reclaiming a love neither could bury.
And somewhere across the city, Orm let her phone slip from her grasp, tears sliding down her cheeks as she realized she’d been holding her breath the entire time. For the first time in ages, she felt like she could finally breathe. A fractious, trembling breath—but a beginning, nonetheless.
______
The day’s filming was winding down, the big climactic confrontation scene already captured, but the atmosphere in the studio remained thick with unspoken strains. Cameras and lights were still positioned around the staged apartment interior, but now, several cast members and crew milled about, reviewing footage on monitors or checking makeup under the bright lamps.
Ling hovered near the craft services table, pretending to eye the snack selection when in reality she was watching something—or rather, someone—across the room. She noticed how Orm stood stiffly beside Jessica, the show’s director, both of them in a conversation that looked far from pleasant. Jessica’s brow creased with tension, her arms folded over her chest. Orm’s hands, usually relaxed and expressive, were clamped together so tightly her knuckles showed white. There was no shouting, no dramatic gestures—but the crackling friction between them was undeniable.
Charlotte, came up beside Ling, offering a polite smile and a bottled water.
“Here,” Charlotte said softly, pressing the cool drink into Ling’s hand. “You look like you could use this.”
Ling nodded gratefully, still glancing past Charlotte’s shoulder at Orm and Jessica. “Thanks,” she murmured, uncapping it. Then, in a quieter tone, “Is it just me, or do they look like they just had a fight?”
Charlotte followed Ling’s line of sight, her own expression turning cautious. “Something’s definitely off,” she admitted. “Jessica called Orm over to the side the moment we wrapped the big scene.”
Ling’s heart fluttered uneasily, her nerves still raw after the emotional performance with Orm. If there was more conflict brewing—especially involving the director—it couldn’t be good. “Did you hear anything? Why are they…like that?”
Before Charlotte could answer, Engfah sidled up to them with a discreet glance toward Orm and Jessica. She lowered her voice as though sharing a secret. “Jessica convoked Orm in her office last week,” she whispered. “Don’t know a lot but I think it was about you Ling.”
Ling’s brows rose, a mix of worry and curiosity gripping her. “Me? But why? Did something happen with Orm?”
Engfah shrugged helplessly. “Why don’t you ask her.” She cast another glance across the room. Jessica gestured sharply at Orm before turning on her heel and walking away.
Orm stood there, shoulders sagging the moment Jessica left. Even from a distance, Ling could see how Orm’s normally bright eyes had darkened with stress. It twisted Ling’s heart in a way she couldn’t quite name.
Charlotte sighed. “I hope it’s nothing too serious. The tension’s bound to affect filming if they don’t sort it out soon. But Ling, Jessica seems a bit off when it concerns you and Orm”
Ling lowered her gaze, recalling her own recent confrontation with Orm—how every raw word they uttered had cut them both to the core, yet offered a chance to heal. “I can’t imagine Orm needs more stress,” she murmured, voice tinged with concern. She thought about how Orm’s mother, Mae Koy, was still recovering, and how Orm was already embroiled in personal turmoil with scandalous photos.
Engfah pursed her lips. “Jessica’s one of those directors who invests everything into a project. If she senses something off, she clamps down..”
Ling’s chest tightened, an almost protectiveness stirring in her gut—protectiveness she wasn’t sure she should be feeling after all they’d been through. She swallowed hard and darted a last look at Orm, who by now had retreated into a quiet corner, rummaging through her script binder but clearly miles away in thought.
“Maybe I’ll—” Ling caught herself. “I mean, maybe we should see if Orm’s okay,” she said, correcting the impulse to rush forward alone. “She looks like she’s about to shatter.”
Charlotte nodded, empathy flashing across her face, but she put a gentle hand on Ling’s arm. “Just be sure you’re ready to handle whatever you find,” she said softly. “We all know things between you two are… delicate.”
Ling exhaled, feeling the weight of that word—delicate—like a fragile glass sphere in her chest. “Yeah. I know.” She let her gaze linger on Orm for a heartbeat longer, recalling the vulnerability she’d seen in her eyes during the last shoot.
Across the set, Orm closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. Jessica’s pointed words still rang in her ears—something about tension behind the scenes, about Orm needing to “pull it together” for the final episodes. It was clipped, almost personal, as though Jessica were angry at Orm for something beyond just the show.
Orm forced a steadying breath. The day already felt endless, her emotions rubbed raw by the scene with Ling, the swirl of rumors, and now this confrontation with Jessica. Despite the bright studio lights, everything felt dim around her.
As the crew started packing equipment into cases and wrapping cables, Orm’s gaze flicked up—she caught Ling watching her. A flicker of warmth and trepidation crossed Orm’s face, like she wasn’t sure whether to look away or allow their eyes to meet.
From near the craft services table, Ling hesitated, her heart fluttering with an unspoken question: Am I crossing a line if I reach out right now?
Yet she couldn’t ignore that haunted look in Orm’s eyes. Something in Ling felt compelled—drawn in, despite the potential mess. With a tentative nod to Charlotte and Engfah, she took a slow, careful step forward.
Whether Orm was ready to talk about Jessica’s anger or not, Ling couldn’t walk away from the silent plea in Orm’s posture. Because in that moment, it didn’t matter if they were ex-lovers with a tangled history. All Ling could see was someone who looked unbearably alone, heart in turmoil, needing at least one person to ask if she was okay.
Ling approached, uncertain how this would end, but determined to try—no matter what her own heart might have to endure. And if Jessica’ really messes with Orm, she’ll have to deal with her.
Ling could almost feel her pulse drumming in her ears as she inched closer to Orm. The rest of the studio had slipped into its usual end-of-day bustle—people tearing down lights, winding cables, loading cameras into heavy-duty cases. Yet she barely registered the noise. All she really heard was the thrum of her own heart, matching the unsteady rise and fall of Orm’s shoulders.
Orm glanced up, as if sensing Ling’s approach. For a fraction of a second, the actress seemed torn between retreat and relief. Her script binder clutched in stiff fingers, she pressed her lips into a taut line. It was obvious she was trying to keep it together, but the weight of Jessica’s anger hung over her like a cloud about to burst.
Ling closed the last few feet between them, exhaling softly. “Hey,” she said, voice gentle enough to slice through the tension. “You looked… Are you okay?”
At first, Orm didn’t answer, her gaze flicking over Ling’s face as though searching for any hint of pity. Eventually, she shook her head, letting out a bitter chuckle that didn’t reach her eyes. “Never been better,” she said, voice laced with sarcasm. “Just got scolded by our dear director for—well, I’m not exactly sure.”
Despite the harsh edge in Orm’s tone, Ling couldn’t ignore the vulnerability trembling beneath it. “Orm, I know it’s none of my business,” she began, dropping her voice so only Orm could hear, “but I can see something’s off. With Jessica. If she’s really giving you trouble for reasons that have nothing to do with the show…”
Orm swallowed, her grip tightening on the binder. The pages inside crinkled with the pressure. “Yeah, well,” she said, throat catching on the words. “Jessica’s the boss—what can I do, right?”
Ling hesitated, her chest constricting at the resignation on Orm’s face. She remembered the Orm who had once been so fierce, so full of life. Before heartbreak and rumors and the creeping shadows of a ruthless industry. She took a breath, forcing the next words out. “You don’t have to just…take it if she’s targeting you unfairly.”
Orm’s brows knit together, shadows flickering in her eyes. “I’m not in a position to pick fights with the director, Ling.” Her gaze dropped, a flash of shame crossing her features. “Too many scandals, too many ‘unprofessional’ labels already. One more rumor, and I could lose it all.”
The confession resonated in Ling’s chest with a painful pang of empathy. She knew the fear that came with balancing your public image, the agony of having your reputation hinge on someone else’s word. “Then let’s figure it out,” she murmured, stepping half a pace closer. “If Jessica’s upset about something beyond the show—maybe it’s personal, maybe it’s political—there has to be a way to address it. You can’t keep walking on eggshells.”
Orm managed a half-laugh, half-sob, pressing the binder protectively against her abdomen. She looked as if she wanted to bury her face in it—anything to escape the scrutiny. “What are you gonna do, Ling? March into her office and demand she back off?”
A flicker of determination flared in Ling’s eyes. If Jessica really messes with Orm, she thought, she’ll have to deal with me. But she tempered the surge of protectiveness with a calm she’d mastered over years of public exposure. “If I have to, I will,” she replied, voice quiet yet resolute. “No one should be bullied, especially not by the person who’s supposed to guide this project.”
For a moment, Orm just stared, conflict and relief swirling in her gaze. She drew a shaky breath, trying to steady her nerves. “…Thank you,” she whispered, so softly Ling almost missed it. “I’m not used to people standing up for me anymore.”
Ling’s expression softened. She tentatively reached out, letting her hand hover near Orm’s arm—an unspoken offer of comfort, if Orm wanted it. “Things change,” she said gently, her own heart pounding at the intimacy of the moment. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
Orm closed her eyes, as if absorbing Ling’s words. The tension in her posture eased—if only a little. “I still need to figure out what Jessica really wants from me,” she murmured, voice barely audible above the clatter of the crew. “But for now… thanks.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Ling’s lips, though her eyes reflected the gravity of the situation. “I’m here, okay?” she said, softly. “Whatever happens.”
Orm nodded, swallowing hard. She blinked away the tears threatening to form, her chest tight with a messy amalgam of gratitude and uncertainty. Why does Ling’s concern feel like both a balm and a fresh ache? she wondered, remembering how they used to stand this close—closer, even—back when their love was the envy of everyone.
Neither spoke after that, the space between them charged with words unsaid. But a spark of resilience flickered in Orm’s eyes, bolstered by Ling’s presence. For now, that was enough.
As they parted ways—Orm heading to change out of her costume, Ling returning to gather her belongings—they could both sense a storm brewing on the horizon. Jessica’s anger was hardly resolved, and personal turmoil still crackled in the air. But with each subtle glance, each unspoken moment of solidarity, they found strength to weather the next battle—together or not, they at least knew neither was truly alone.
____
Late evening draped the studio corridors in hushed shadows. After wrapping for the day, most of the cast and crew had already left, the bustling space transformed into a near ghost town. Only a few overhead lights remained on, forming pale islands of illumination. Ling lingered, restlessly pacing near the line of dressing rooms as she tried to settle her swirling thoughts.
She told herself she’d stay just a minute longer—maybe to make sure Orm was okay, maybe to confront Jessica if necessary. I’m doing this for Orm’s sake, she reasoned. I just don’t want her cornered. But the knot in her stomach told a different story: she was also avoiding returning to her hotel suite, where loneliness and confusion waited like a phantom.
Eventually, she mustered the courage to seek out Jessica. Better I speak to her now, she thought grimly. I can’t let her keep intimidating Orm. With a determined set to her shoulders, Ling headed for the director’s office.
Jessica had claimed one of the larger dressing rooms as her temporary office—an impromptu desk shoved against the wall, a laptop propped on top, fluorescent lights still buzzing overhead. Ling approached quietly, noticing the door was slightly ajar. She lifted a hand to knock—but froze at the sound of a familiar name.
“Sui.”
The single word hit Ling’s chest like a hammer. She leaned closer, each breath catching in her throat. Why is Jessica talking about Sui?
Peering through the gap, Ling saw Jessica hunched over a desk. A phone was pressed against her ear, her posture tense. The director’s usual brusque demeanor was muted, replaced by a softer, more intimate tone. Ling’s heart pounded.
“I know you’re worried, but you can’t keep clinging to the idea that Ling will never suspect,” Jessica murmured, her frustration and concern palpable. “She’s bound to notice the cracks. I’m not saying to tell her, just… don’t let her keep drifting back to Orm if it’s going to destroy you. Because this is what is happening here Sui…”
Ling’s stomach twisted violently. They’re discussing me… and Orm…? The thought made her knees weak. She inched closer, trying to stifle the trembling in her limbs.
On the other end of the phone, a faint voice crackled—barely audible. Even so, Ling recognized the soft cadence, the slight accent. Sui. Ice spread through Ling’s veins. Why would Sui be calling Jessica?
Jessica sighed into the phone. “I care about you. If I have to watch you suffer while Ling runs to Orm again and again, I’ll lose my mind. You deserve more. We deserve more babe.”
Ling’s entire world seemed to tilt on its axis. She pressed a palm to her mouth to keep from gasping out loud. Jessica… and Sui?
“Look,” Jessica continued, her tone thick with emotion, “I’m not telling you to force a breakup. But if Ling won’t open her eyes… you need to decide if you want me or if you’ll keep letting her treat you like an afterthought, because that has been the case this last uear. We both know you’ve been in love with me for a while, Sui. And I love you too but when I got back you were already with Ling…”
A choked sound caught in Ling’s throat—shock, betrayal, heartbreak all converging. Sui’s… in love with Jessica? Or was Jessica exaggerating? But the way she’s talking— It sounded so intimate, so certain. Was Ling just a game for Sui?
The muffled voice on the phone replied, impossible for Ling to decipher. Jessica ran a hand over her face. “I know you feel guilty. But you said it yourself—Ling’s heart belongs somewhere else. If Orm’s the only one who can make her happy, we can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. Don’t let yourself drown in a relationship that’s never truly been yours. And be honest with her. You know she never told you the three words… I think you should put an end to it”
Ling’s eyes burned with tears. Her breath came in shallow puffs, each word from Jessica plunging deeper into her chest. She understood, now, why Sui had felt distant—why arguments had been brushed aside with forced smiles. The lines connecting Sui and Jessica formed a betrayal so painful, Ling couldn’t bear it.
She’d heard enough. Her fight-or-flight instincts roared to life, and she chose flight.
In one desperate movement, she twisted away from the door and sprinted down the hall. Her footsteps echoed in the silent corridors, a frantic drumbeat of panic. The tears she’d tried to swallow spilled over, carving hot trails down her cheeks. How could Sui do this? She’d known their relationship was strained… but never imagined it was tangled in something like this.
As she stumbled through the back exit, the humid night air slapped her face, thick and stifling. She couldn’t see through the blur of tears, breath hitching in ragged sobs. Pressing herself against the cool exterior wall, she tried to quell the tremors rippling through her body. She felt sick—betrayed, humiliated, and heartbreakingly alone.
Minutes blurred by, or maybe hours. The pounding of her pulse made time meaningless. At some point, she forced herself to move, fumbling for her car keys in a daze. She had to get out of here—away from Jessica’s voice, away from the crushing knowledge that Sui had been confiding in someone else about their relationship.
Her mind screamed questions she had no answers for: Was Sui truly in love with Jessica? Why did she agree to be in a relationship if both hearts were not available? Did Sui think Ling’s feelings for Orm were so strong that she’d never be enough? It all twisted inside her, amplifying her existing confusion over Orm, the rumors, the old heartbreak that refused to die.
She managed to reach her car, hands shaking as she unlocked it and collapsed into the driver’s seat. The interior was sweltering, but she didn’t care. She gripped the wheel until her knuckles turned white, tears blurring her vision. An anguished sob tore from her throat, raw and guttural.
“What do I do now?” she whispered to nobody, voice cracking with despair. She remembered how Orm had pleaded with her to believe in their love again. And she remembered the countless times Sui had patiently stood by her side, always supportive—until now. Until apparently, she turned to Jessica for comfort.
Another sob shook her. Ling squeezed her eyes shut, as if that could seal off the torrent of pain. She can’t face Orm, she can’t face Sui, she can’t face Jessica— The feeling of utter isolation nearly crushed her.
The phone vibrated in her pocket—probably Junji or Orm or even Sui, worried about her. She ignored it.
All she could do was start the engine and drive, needing movement, needing to run from a situation she was in no state to handle. Headlights cut through the darkness as she pulled into the street, adrenaline mixing with heartbreak in a dizzying rush.
___________
Jessica paused mid-sentence, hearing something—footsteps racing away, perhaps? She rushed to the door, but the corridor was empty, eerily silent. A prickle of unease crawled up her spine. Did someone hear? She couldn’t be certain.
Turning back, she picked up the conversation. “Sui, I have to go,” she said, voice tight with lingering tension. “But promise me you’ll think about what I said, okay? I’m… I’m worried about you.”
She ended the call, setting the phone on the desk with a shaky exhale. Her heart pounded not just from the confession she’d made to Sui, but from the gnawing suspicion that she might’ve been overheard. If Ling or Orm found out…
Swallowing thickly, Jessica sank onto the desk chair, raking a hand through her hair. She replayed all she’d just said to Sui—her frustration with Ling, her desire for Sui to walk away from a doomed relationship. A pang of guilt flared. As a director, she prided herself on control, on composure. But her personal entanglements were unspooling beyond her grasp.
She glanced at the door again. It was just a few inches open. Anyone could have listened in. Tension coiled in her stomach, but she shoved it aside. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, she needed to figure out how to keep the set from descending into chaos.
_____
Ling’s knuckles trembled against the hotel room keycard as she fumbled to unlock the door. Every nerve in her body buzzed with anger, betrayal, and a heartbreak so raw she felt nearly numb. The harsh click of the lock gave way, and she staggered inside, dropping her purse onto the nearest chair. She didn’t bother flicking on more than a single lamp; the dim, amber light felt apt for the turmoil roaring in her chest.
Her phone buzzed again, rattling near the edge of the table. Ling snatched it up, heart pounding. The caller ID blinked: Sui. A flash of fear mingled with anger. No more running. She’d told herself that. For too long, she’d let half-truths and her own confusion paralyze her. Now she needed the truth—or whatever Sui dared to offer.
She answered, voice trembling with exhaustion. “Sui.”
“Ling!” Sui’s tone was breathless, laced with concern. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you? I thought you’d be back hours ago—”
Ling squeezed her eyes shut, trying to contain the fury and pain. “I’m at the hotel,” she managed, voice stiff. “Why are you calling me like you’re worried all of a sudden? Did Jessica tell you she thought I overheard your conversation?”
Silence. Then a near-whisper: “Ling, what… what do you mean?”
A sharp, humorless laugh escaped Ling’s throat. “Don’t pretend, Sui. I heard Jessica on the phone with you. I heard her, talking about us—talking about how you should leave me because I’m ‘too busy running back to Orm.’” Her voice broke on that last word, tears pricking her eyes. “She said you’re in love with her.”
Sui’s shocked inhale crackled across the line. “Ling, I… I can explain.”
“Then explain.” Ling’s knuckles whitened around the phone. Her breath was shaky, but her resolve was unwavering. “Because I’m done being blindsided. First Orm and the photos, now you with Jessica. Tell me the truth—all of it.”
For a moment, all Ling heard was Sui’s uneven breathing, like she was struggling to form words. “I never meant to hurt you,” she finally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Jessica and I—we’ve known each other for a while. Even before the show started. She… she was a friend at first, someone I could vent to about us, about how you always seemed distant. About how you never said you loved me, not once in our entire relationship.”
Ling’s heart clenched. She knew Sui had wanted to hear those words, the three simple words Ling had avoided after the ruinous heartbreak with Orm. Still, betrayal flared hot in her chest. “So you found comfort in the director’s arms?” she demanded, tone wavering between anger and heartbreak. “And what—she convinced you I’m just obsessed with my ex? That’s all our relationship is worth?”
Sui exhaled shakily, regret bleeding through the phone. “It wasn’t like that—at first. We just talked about my insecurities, about your… unresolved feelings for Orm. You’d get that look in your eyes whenever she was around. I saw it, Ling! And I felt so small. Then Jessica kept telling me I deserved more, that she’d—” She choked on the words, as if they scalded her throat. “I never wanted to cheat, I swear. But feelings got twisted, lines got blurred.”
Ling’s heart pounded so violently she thought it might burst. She could almost picture Sui’s tearful face, the raw ache she must’ve carried. But it didn’t erase the knife of betrayal lodged in Ling’s chest. “You should’ve talked to me,” she said, voice cracking with sorrow. “We should’ve dealt with our problems, not dragged a third person into them.”
A long pause. “I know. I’m so sorry.” Sui’s voice trembled, a quiet confession. “But every time I tried, I’d see you slip away—like your heart was somewhere else. I thought I could wait you out, but… Jessica didn’t judge me. She made me feel wanted in a way that I just couldn’t find with you.”
Tears slipped from Ling’s eyes, hot trails against her cheeks. She blinked them away, feeling both angry at Sui’s betrayal and guilty for never giving her the love she deserved. “So where does that leave us now?” she asked, her tone softer but still edged with hurt. “If you love Jessica, then… why are you still calling me?”
Sui let out a half-sob. “Because part of me still wants to hope. I kept telling Jessica I needed more time, that I wasn’t sure how you felt about Orm. I wanted to believe we could work, but now…” Her voice quivered, weighed down by resignation. “I don’t know if there’s any point. I’ve lied to you by omission, and you… well, you never told me how you truly feel.”
Ling stared at the lamplight flickering over the hotel wall. Pain tore at her heart, layer by layer. She inhaled a trembling breath, forcing the next words out. “Maybe we both need to accept the truth,” she whispered. “I wasn’t fully in this relationship, and you found someone else to fill the void. We were doomed the minute I realized Orm still owned a piece of me I couldn’t bury.”
Sui’s breath hitched. “Ling…”
“I’m tired, Sui,” Ling said, voice thick with tears. “Tired of living in half-truths—tired of being the reason you feel unloved, or… or second-best.” She pressed a hand to her aching chest, feeling her pulse hammer beneath her palm. “I can’t give you what you need. And if Jessica does… then go to her. It’ll hurt like hell, but I— I’d rather you be happy than stay in something that makes us both miserable.”
On the other end, Sui’s sobs were audible now, soft and broken. “I never wanted it to end like this,” she rasped. “I did love you, Ling, even if you could never say it back. I was just… so scared. Scared you’d run to Orm the second she clicked her fingers. Scared I’d be left with nothing.”
A storm of guilt and sorrow wracked Ling. “I’m sorry,” she managed, tears spilling anew. “I wish I could’ve loved you the way you deserved.”
Ling closed her eyes, imagining the swirl of reporters, fans, and tabloids ready to pounce on their every move. It felt impossibly distant, like an echo of a life she no longer recognized. “We’ll sort it out,” she said, voice weary. “We’re professionals. But for now… I need some time.”
“Yeah,” Sui whispered. “Me too.” Another pause, then in a shaky, gentle tone: “Take care, Ling. I—I’m sorry for everything.”
Ling couldn’t speak around the lump lodged in her throat. She ended the call with a trembling hand, letting the phone drop onto the bed. The sound of finality rang in the quiet room, echoing in her mind. It’s over. The last remnants of the hollow relationship she’d tried so hard to protect… shattered.
And yet, strangely, she felt an undercurrent of relief beneath the heartbreak. No more lies. At least that weight was gone. But the emptiness left behind felt staggering, all her unspoken fears about Orm, about love, about trust spinning into a dizzying void.
Slowly, she sank onto the edge of the bed, tears slipping unchecked down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though holding her own fractured heart in place. Where do I go from here? The question pressed in, suffocating in its uncertainty.
Whatever the answer, she knew this: she was done running from the truth. If she and Orm were fated to collide again, or if they were meant to break apart for good, she wouldn’t hide behind another woman’s fragile comfort. She was through letting fear and doubt rule her life.
Clutching a pillow to her chest, Ling allowed herself one more wave of grief—both for what she’d lost with Sui, and what might still remain unfinished with Orm. Beyond the thin walls, the city glowed, unaware of the storm raging in her heart.
And as tears finally gave way to a silent, exhausted numbness, she made a vow to herself: No more illusions. If there was still a chance to fight for the love she once believed in, she’d do it with eyes open. But first, she had to find the courage to face every part of her past she’d left tangled behind. And as she finally lay down, the aftermath of heartbreak pressing like a weight on her chest, she allowed just one small spark of hope to shine through the darkness—because sometimes, the hardest chapters lead to the most unforeseen miracles.