Danger ⚠️

The soft morning light crept through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across Orm’s bedroom. The world outside was still quiet, the city not yet fully awake. Inside, the air was filled with the gentle sound of steady breathing—two heartbeats tangled in the same rhythm.

Ling stirred first, her eyelids fluttering open to a blur of muted colours and soft shadows. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was, her mind still heavy with sleep. But then she felt it.

The warmth.

Orm’s body pressed against hers.

Orm was draped over her like a blanket, one arm wrapped securely around Ling’s waist, her fingers resting against the curve of her hip. But what made Ling’s heart jolt—what sent a rush of panic blooming in her chest—was the soft, barely-there touch of Orm’s lips resting against the side of her neck.

Ling froze.

Her breath hitched, her mind racing as she processed the closeness, the intimacy of it. Orm’s lips were warm, her breath soft against Ling’s skin, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Okay. Okay. Stay calm.

Ling’s heart was pounding now, not from fear but from something else entirely—something sharp and overwhelming. She didn’t dare move, afraid to wake Orm, afraid to face whatever this was.

But her body betrayed her.

A slight shift. Just a fraction.

Orm stirred.

Ling felt her breath catch again as Orm let out a sleepy sigh, her grip tightening instinctively, pulling Ling impossibly closer. Orm nuzzled slightly against her neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there, sending a shockwave straight through Ling’s chest.

Oh my God.

Ling squeezed her eyes shut, her heart racing so fast she was sure Orm could feel it.

Then, finally—Orm blinked awake.

It took Orm a second to register where she was, her brain sluggish with sleep. But when she realized her position—half draped over Ling, her face buried against her neck—she froze too.

Silence.

Ling slowly turned her head, their faces now just inches apart. Their eyes met, wide and filled with an unspoken mix of surprise, embarrassment, and something else lingering just beneath the surface.

Orm swallowed, her mind screaming say something, anything, but all she managed was a raspy, sleep-rough whisper:

“…Morning.”

Ling’s heart skipped again, her panic giving way to something warmer, more confusing.

“…Morning,” she whispered back, her voice barely steady.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them knew how to.

Because whatever this was—it wasn’t just an accident. And they both felt it, their bodies just attracted to each other.

The silence between them stretched, thick and fragile, like a thread pulled taut, on the verge of snapping.

Orm was the first to move—just slightly, her hand loosening its grip on Ling’s waist as if realizing, all at once, the intimacy of their position. She shifted, her face pulling back an inch, though the warmth of her breath still lingered between them.

“Sorry,” Orm mumbled, her voice hoarse, thick with sleep and something else she couldn’t name. She cleared her throat, trying to shake the haze. “Didn’t mean to… uh… fall asleep like that.”

Ling forced a tight smile, though her heart was racing wildly in her chest. “It’s okay. Happens.”

Happens? Since when did waking up tangled in your best friend’s arms, with her lips on your neck, just happen?

Orm slowly sat up, raking a hand through her messy hair, trying to collect herself. The warmth where Ling had been was already fading, but the memory of it burned hotter than she liked to admit. She could still feel the faint imprint of Ling’s skin against her lips.

Ling pushed herself up too, avoiding Orm’s gaze, her hands fidgeting with the edge of the blanket like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Neither of them spoke for a beat.

Then Orm chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension. “Guess I’m clingier in my sleep than I thought.”

Ling forced a laugh, but it came out brittle. “Yeah, well… you always have been.”

Always have been.

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been.

Orm’s smile faded slightly as her eyes drifted to Ling’s face—soft in the morning light, her hair a little messy, her cheeks flushed with something Orm desperately wanted to believe was just embarrassment.

But she knew better.

Ling finally glanced at her, their eyes locking again, and for a split second, everything felt too raw, too exposed.

Orm swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “You okay?”

Ling nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Fine. Just—uh—probably need coffee.”

Orm nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching with a faint smile. “Yeah. Coffee.”

They both stood up at the same time, awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes as they moved around the room, pretending like their hearts weren’t still racing, pretending like nothing had changed.

But it had. And they both knew it.

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the faint sizzle of eggs in a pan. Mae Koy moved around with ease, humming softly to herself as she prepared breakfast. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a soft, golden hue over everything.

Orm and Ling sat at the small dining table, both unusually quiet. The tension from their earlier moment still lingered, unspoken but heavy, woven into every glance they tried not to share.

Mae Koy, ever perceptive, glanced between them, her brow arching slightly. “You two look like you didn’t sleep at all.”

Orm coughed, nearly choking on her coffee. “We did. Just… you know. Long night.”

Ling nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Mae Koy didn’t push. She simply set plates in front of them, her sharp eyes lingering on Orm for a beat longer than necessary, as if silently saying, I’ll ask later.

The conversation stayed light—small talk about schedules, upcoming shoots, and Att’s ridiculous antics from the night before. But beneath it all, Orm’s gaze kept drifting to Ling, tracing the curve of her smile, the way her fingers absently played with the rim of her coffee cup.

After breakfast, Ling checked her phone and sighed softly. “I should head back to my apartment before the shoot. Need to grab a few things.”

Orm’s head snapped up, her chest tightening instantly. “Why? You can stay here. I’ll drive you later.”

Ling shook her head gently, standing to gather her things. “It’s fine, Orm. I’ll be quick. My car’s on the way.”

Orm stood too, her jaw tightening. “Ling, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not after… everything.”

Ling paused, her hand resting on the back of the chair. She met Orm’s worried gaze, her heart clenching at the genuine concern etched into her face.

“I’ll be okay,” Ling said softly, her voice steady. She stepped closer, her hand brushing Orm’s arm in a small, grounding touch. “I’ll keep you updated. Promise. You’ll hear from me until we see each other again later.”

Orm wanted to argue, to insist—but the warmth of Ling’s touch and the sincerity in her eyes made her swallow the words.

“Okay,” Orm whispered reluctantly. “But if you don’t text me—”

“I will,” Ling interrupted with a soft smile. “I promise.”

And with that, she grabbed her bag, gave Mae Koy a quick goodbye, and slipped out the door, leaving Orm standing there, her heart heavier than she’d like to admit.

________

Ling sat in the backseat of the sleek black car, scrolling through her phone with half-hearted attention. The city blurred past the tinted windows, familiar streets flashing by in a comforting rhythm—until they didn’t.

She glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly. The usual route to her apartment felt… different. The turns, the scenery, the narrowing streets—it wasn’t what she expected.

Her heart gave a small, uneasy thud.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but edged with tension. “Tristan, why are we taking this route?”

Tristan’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “Just a small detour, Miss Ling. Nothing to worry about.”

Ling’s pulse quickened. She wasn’t someone who panicked easily, but something in his tone—too smooth, too careful—made her chest tighten.

“That’s not what I asked,” she said, her voice sharper now. “Why are we not on the usual road?”

Tristan hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“There’s been a car following us for the past two minutes,” he admitted quietly. “I just wanted to be sure before saying anything.”

Ling’s stomach dropped.

She turned her head slightly, peering through the back window. Sure enough, a dark sedan trailed them at a steady distance, not too close to be obvious, but not far enough to blend in.

Her heart raced, a cold wave of fear washing over her.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her fingers tightening around her phone.

“Yes, Miss Ling. They’ve matched every turn I’ve taken.”

Ling’s mind raced. She thought about Orm, about the promise she’d made just an hour ago. She unlocked her phone with trembling fingers, quickly pulling up Orm’s contact.

But before she could type, Tristan’s voice cut through her spiralling thoughts.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The car sped up slightly, weaving through traffic with practiced ease, but the sedan kept pace, shadowing them like a phantom that refused to be shaken.

Ling’s heart pounded so hard she could barely hear anything else.

Not again, she thought, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and anger.

She needed to do something. She needed Orm.

Tristan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he accelerated, weaving through the morning traffic with precision. The hum of the engine grew louder, matching the frantic pounding of Ling’s heart. She kept glancing over her shoulder, the dark sedan still in pursuit, its presence like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

Ling’s fingers hovered over her phone, trembling as she tried to type a message to Orm. "Someone's following—" but before she could finish, the car jolted sharply.

“Hold on!” Tristan shouted.

A motorcycle cut across their lane, forcing Tristan to swerve violently to avoid it. The tires screeched against the asphalt, the world blurring into a chaotic mix of motion and noise.

Ling’s body lurched to the side, her phone slipping from her hands and clattering to the floor.

The car spun out of control, the sound of shattering glass and twisting metal erupting around them. Time seemed to slow, every detail etched into her mind—the sharp jerk of her seatbelt, Tristan’s desperate attempt to regain control, the sickening crunch as the car collided with a concrete barrier.

Then, silence.

For a heartbeat, everything was still.

Ling’s ears rang, her vision swimming with flashes of light and shadow. The acrid scent of burnt rubber and gasoline filled the air. She blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the chaos around her.

Her body was pressed against the door, her cheek stinging where it had hit the window. Pain radiated through her side, sharp and unfamiliar. She forced herself to move, her hands trembling as she unbuckled the seatbelt.

“Tristan?” she croaked, her voice hoarse and weak.

Tristan groaned from the driver’s seat, blood trickling down the side of his face. He was conscious but dazed, his hands still gripping the steering wheel loosely.

Ling’s panic surged. She reached for her phone, her fingers fumbling on the floor until she felt the smooth glass. The screen was cracked, but it lit up.

The acrid scent of burnt rubber and gasoline filled the crumpled car, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. Ling’s ears rang, drowning out the distant sounds of honking cars and frantic voices outside. Her vision blurred, sharp pain radiating from her side, each breath a struggle.

She blinked slowly, trying to focus, her trembling fingers groping for her phone on the floor. The screen was cracked but still lit, the faint glow flickering like a fragile lifeline.

Orm.

Her thumb hovered over the call button, her pulse pounding in her ears louder than anything else.

But the pain grew sharper, like fire spreading through her chest, stealing her breath. A wave of dizziness crashed over her, her grip on the phone weakening.

She tried to fight it, her lips parting to whisper Orm’s name.

But before she could press the button, darkness swallowed her whole.

The phone slipped from her hand, landing facedown on the car floor, the faint glow fading beneath the shadows.

______________________________________________

The photoshoot venue buzzed with the usual flurry of activity—lights being adjusted, cameras clicking, stylists bustling around with racks of clothes. But none of it registered for Orm as she walked in with Mae Koy beside her. Her eyes scanned the room instinctively, searching for the one person she expected to see.

Ling wasn’t there.

Orm’s chest tightened.

P’Mam stood near the makeup station, scrolling through her phone, her expression unreadable but noticeably tense. Orm’s steps quickened without conscious thought, her heart drumming louder with each stride.

“Where’s Ling?” Orm asked, her voice sharper than intended.

P’Mam looked up, her face shifting slightly—not with the casual reassurance Orm needed, but with a flicker of something else.

Uncertainty.

Orm’s stomach twisted.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” P’Mam replied, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her concern. “She left your place this morning, right? Have you heard from her?”

Mae Koy’s face paled instantly, her fingers clutching her bag tighter. “She was supposed to come straight here after catching some things at her apartment.”

Orm’s throat went dry. She shook her head slowly, trying to process. Ling promised to text. She said she’d keep me updated.

But her phone had been silent.

Before Orm could respond, P’Mam’s phone rang sharply, cutting through the tension like a blade. P’Mam glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing deeper before she stepped away to answer.

Orm’s heart raced, her pulse pounding so loud it drowned out the ambient noise around her.

Mae Koy grabbed Orm’s arm gently, her voice trembling. “Something’s wrong.”

Orm couldn’t find words to respond. Her eyes stayed locked on P’Mam, watching her expression shift from confusion to something darker—shock, fear, dread.

But before P’Mam could return, a voice blared from the nearby TV mounted on the wall.

“Breaking news: Thai actress Lingling Kwong has been involved in a serious car accident this morning. She was rushed to the hospital moments ago… Her driver, Tristan Sao, has been found dead on the scene”

The words hit Orm like a physical blow.

Her breath hitched, her legs refusing to move as her eyes remained glued to the screen. Images flashed—Ling’s car, crumpled and unrecognizable, emergency responders working frantically.

Orm’s heart shattered into pieces, the world blurring around her.

All she could think was—No. No, this isn’t real.

Mae Koy’s hand tightened around her arm, but Orm didn’t feel it.

She couldn’t feel anything.

Only the overwhelming, soul-crushing fear that she might lose Ling.

The words on the TV echoed in Orm’s mind, louder than the frantic noise around her.

“Lingling Kwong… serious car accident… rushed to the hospital…”

Her breath hitched, her body frozen, as if her brain couldn’t process what her eyes had just seen. But her heart—her heart reacted first.

“Ling,” she whispered, her voice breaking like glass.

Then she moved.

It wasn’t conscious. Her body acted on pure instinct. She pushed past Mae Koy, past P’Mam who had just ended her call, her face pale with dread. Orm didn’t stop. She didn’t hear Mae Koy calling after her or the sudden hush that fell over the room as people realized what was happening.

She needed to get to Ling.

Nothing else mattered.

She sprinted out of the building, fumbling with her phone as she reached for her car keys. Her hands shook violently, her breath shallow and uneven. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. All she saw was Ling’s face—Ling’s smile, Ling’s voice in her head, Ling’s promise just hours ago: “I’ll keep you updated.”

But Ling hadn’t.

Because Ling couldn’t.

Orm’s vision blurred with tears, but she wiped them away roughly, refusing to break down. Not now. Not yet.

She drove like her life depended on it—because in a way, it did. The city flew past in a haze, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. She didn’t care about traffic lights, didn’t care about the angry honks from other drivers.

All she cared about was getting to Ling.

Because everyone knew.

Everyone knew how much Ling meant to her.

But Orm never had the courage to say it out loud.

And now, the fear that she might never get the chance was crushing her from the inside out.

“Hold on, Ling,” she whispered, her voice trembling, tears blurring her vision again. “Please… just hold on.”

Orm barely made it to her car before Mae Koy caught up to her, breathless and panicked. She grabbed Orm’s arm just as Orm fumbled with the keys, her hands shaking too hard to fit them into the ignition.

“Orm—let me drive,” Mae Koy said firmly, her voice steady despite the fear etched into her face.

Orm was too overwhelmed to argue. She simply nodded, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths as she slid into the passenger seat.

Mae Koy started the car, tires screeching as they sped off into the chaos of Bangkok’s streets. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken fear, the tension palpable, every second stretching unbearably long.

Orm stared out the window, her fists clenched tightly in her lap, her mind racing faster than the car.

Ling. Ling. Ling.

The name echoed in her chest like a drumbeat, each repetition a sharp stab of fear and regret.

Mae Koy glanced over briefly, her jaw tight. “Orm, she’s strong. Ling’s going to be okay.”

Orm didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The words felt like empty promises against the crushing weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

Mae Koy’s hand reached over briefly, squeezing Orm’s knee—just enough to ground her, to remind her she wasn’t alone in this.

But Orm’s heart was already breaking.

Because everyone knew.

Mae Koy knew.

Orm was terrified of losing Ling—not just as a friend, not just as someone important in her life.

But as the person who held her heart without even knowing it.

They arrived at the hospital in record time, Mae Koy barely parking the car before Orm was out, sprinting toward the entrance. Mae followed close behind, her heart pounding just as fiercely.

Together, they pushed through the hospital doors, the sterile smell hitting them like a wall, the fluorescent lights too bright, too harsh.

Orm’s eyes scanned the crowded lobby, desperate for answers, desperate for her.

“Where’s Lingling Kwong?” she choked out to the nurse at the reception desk. “She was just brought in. Please—where is she?”

The nurse’s expression shifted from confusion to recognition, her face softening with sympathy.

“She’s in the emergency room,” the nurse said gently, pointing down the hall. “They’re working on her now.”

Orm didn’t wait for more.

She ran.

Orm sprinted down the sterile corridor, her heart pounding louder than the echo of her footsteps against the hospital floor. She was just a few feet from the emergency room doors when a firm hand gripped her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Ma’am, you can’t go in there,” the nurse said gently but firmly, her eyes filled with sympathy. “She’s in surgery right now. You’ll have to wait in the waiting room.”

Orm’s breath hitched, her chest tightening painfully. Surgery.

The word echoed in her mind, colder and sharper than she could bear.

Mae Koy caught up, her face pale but composed. She placed a steady hand on Orm’s back, grounding her before turning to the nurse. “Have her parents been contacted?”

The nurse nodded. “Yes, they’ve been notified. They’re on their way.”

Orm’s knees felt weak, but Mae gently guided her toward the waiting room—a sterile space filled with hard chairs and the low hum of vending machines. The kind of place where time felt frozen, where hope hung in the air like fragile glass.

They sat down, the silence between them heavy and suffocating.

Orm stared at the floor, her hands trembling in her lap. Her mind was a blur of memories—Ling’s laugh, the warmth of her smile, the way she always pretended to be fine even when she wasn’t.

The thought of never seeing that smile again broke something inside her.

Mae Koy’s hand covered Orm’s, warm and grounding. “She’s strong, Orm. She’s going to be okay.”

Orm’s breath shuddered as she looked up, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “What if she’s not?”

Mae didn’t have an answer. She just squeezed Orm’s hand tighter.

And then, the words spilled out—raw and unfiltered.

“I love her, Mae,” Orm whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m in love with her. And I never told her. I was too scared. Too stupid. And now—I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance.”

Mae’s eyes softened, her thumb gently rubbing soothing circles over Orm’s knuckles. “I know baby and you’ll get the chance. She’s going to fight. Because she has you to come back to.”

Orm let out a shaky breath, tears slipping down her cheeks silently. “I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

Mae didn’t say anything else. She just held Orm’s hand, anchoring her through the storm of fear and regret.

The minutes stretched into an unbearable eternity until the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the stillness. The waiting room door swung open with a rush of cool air, and Ling’s parents hurried in, their faces drawn tight with worry. Her mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, her father’s jaw clenched to stay composed. Behind them, Ling’s younger brother, Niran, followed his usual playful demeanour nowhere to be found.

Orm shot to her feet immediately, her heart aching all over again at the sight of them.

“Orm,” Ling’s mother whispered, her voice trembling as she reached out, gripping Orm’s hands tightly. “What happened? Have you heard anything?”

Orm shook her head, her throat too tight to speak. Mae Koy stepped in gently, her voice steady as she recounted everything they knew—how Ling had left their place, the sudden news, and how she’d been rushed into surgery.

Ling’s father rubbed his temples, his expression clouded with helplessness. “I can’t believe this…”

Orm swallowed hard, guilt and fear tangled in her chest. “I—I know me neither…”

Ling’s mother gently squeezed her shoulder, grounding her again. “Orm, this isn’t your fault. Our daughter will get through this don’t worry. We believe in her.”

Niran had been quiet, standing slightly apart from the group, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. After a tense pause, he finally spoke, his voice low but steady.

“Come with me to get some coffee Orm?” he asked, his eyes meeting Orm’s with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t just asking for coffee.

Orm hesitated, glancing back at Ling’s parents, who nodded silently, understanding that maybe they both needed a moment away from the suffocating tension.

She stood, her legs feeling heavy, and followed Niran out of the waiting room, the sterile white walls closing in behind them.

The sterile brightness of the hospital cafeteria was a stark contrast to the suffocating tension of the waiting room. The hum of vending machines and the soft clatter of cups being stacked provided a strange, almost normal backdrop to a moment that felt anything but.

Orm stood beside Niran at the small coffee counter, her mind still back in that waiting room—still with Ling.

Niran broke the silence first, his voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of quiet strength. “I’m not worried about her.”

Orm glanced at him, surprised by the calm in his tone.

“She’s always been the strongest person I know,” he continued, pouring coffee into paper cups with steady hands. “Ling’s stubborn like that. She’ll fight her way back, especially now.”

Orm’s brow furrowed slightly. “Now?”

Niran smirked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Because you’re in her life.”

Orm felt her heart stutter, the words landing heavier than she expected. She opened her mouth to reply, to deflect, but Niran kept going, his voice softer this time.

“You know,” he said, stirring the coffee absentmindedly, “it’s funny. I always thought Ling would end up with someone shy, someone like her. But then I realized—she doesn’t need someone like her. She needs someone who makes her feel safe and loved. Like you.”

Orm’s chest tightened, her grip on the coffee cup growing firmer.

Niran glanced at her again, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I’ve never seen her feel safer than when she’s with you.”

Orm’s breath caught, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Niran,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, “don’t… don’t say that. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

But Niran chuckled softly, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed. “I’m really not. I mean, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?”

Orm stared at him, stunned, her mind racing.

“She likes you,” Niran added simply, like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “Romantically, I mean.”

Orm blinked, completely thrown off. “What? No. No, she doesn’t. We’re just—”

“Best friends? Yeah, sure,” Niran interrupted, his grin widening. “You keep telling yourself that. I told the same to my sis last time she was home”

Orm’s heart raced, her mind flipping through every moment with Ling, searching for something—anything—that could explain this.

“She doesn’t… she’s never said anything.”

“Because she’s Ling,” Niran replied with a shrug. “She’s terrible at this stuff. But I know my sister. And I’m willing to bet—” he grabbed the coffee cups, smirking—“that within the year, you two will be a couple.”

Orm opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

Because deep down, somewhere beneath the fear and confusion, a tiny voice whispered that maybe… just maybe… Niran was right and deep down she hoped that when she is out of danger she would be brave enough.