Danger ⚠️

The nights had not been kind to Ling. It had been a week since her unexpected encounter with Orm in the restaurant’s restroom, and yet, the memory clung to her like a shadow, refusing to fade.

She had tried—tried so hard—to push it aside. To convince herself it was just a moment, nothing more. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Orm’s face. The way she had looked at her. The way her fingers had felt, warm and grounding against her wrist. The way her own heart had betrayed her, hammering in her chest as if it knew something she didn’t.

Ling sat up in bed, rubbing her temples in frustration.

Why does this keep happening?

She had spent the past week drowning in questions, searching for answers in places that only led her deeper into confusion. She had found pictures, letters, pieces of a life that felt familiar but unreachable. But no matter how much she tried to piece them together, the memories wouldn’t come.

And the worst part?

She couldn’t stop thinking about Orm.

Every time her mind wandered, it led her back to her. The way Orm’s voice had cracked when she spoke. The way she had hesitated before letting go, as if she wanted—needed—to say something but couldn’t.

Ling sighed, running a hand through her hair.

This couldn’t go on.

She needed to know the truth.

By the time the morning sun streamed through her bedroom window, Ling had made up her mind.

She couldn’t live in this limbo any longer. She needed answers.

She spent the day going through more of her things, hoping that something—anything—would help fill in the missing gaps.

She found more pictures. Some were of her and Orm, laughing together, caught in moments of pure joy. Others were quieter—Orm leaning against her shoulder in what looked like a long car ride, Ling fixing Orm’s hair in a candid shot neither of them had seemed aware of.

And then there was the video.

Ling hesitated before pressing play.

The screen flickered to life, revealing a dimly lit backstage area. Orm was sitting on a stool, a guitar resting on her lap, looking at the camera with a sheepish smile.

"You know I don’t sing in front of people," Orm muttered, adjusting the strap on her guitar.

A voice—her voice—laughed from behind the camera. "You sing in front of me."

Orm rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "That’s different."

"How?"

Orm didn’t answer right away. She strummed a few notes, biting her lip.

"Because it’s you."

Ling’s breath caught.

She watched as Orm started playing, her voice soft, delicate, filled with something Ling couldn’t name but felt.

And suddenly, there it was again—that ache in her chest. That sense of something slipping through her fingers, something important. Something that once belonged to her.

And deep down, she could feel her heart missing something every single day.

_____

Orm hadn’t been doing much better.

For seven days, she had tried to keep herself busy, to force herself into a routine that didn’t revolve around Ling.

It hadn’t worked.

No matter how many distractions she threw at herself, nothing filled the void.

The worst part was that the last time she saw Ling, there had been something there. Not recognition, but something. A hesitation. A pause. An unspoken why in Ling’s eyes that Orm clung to like it was the last shred of hope she had.

She kept reliving the moment over and over again, torturing herself with what-ifs.

What if I had told her the truth? What if I had held on for just a second longer? What if she felt something and I let her go too soon?

Orm exhaled shakily, pressing her palms against her face.

She didn’t know how much longer she could do this but she needed Ling back, she needed Ling to remember her so that she can finally confess.

____________

That day, Ling sat across from Junji in a quiet café, her mind still swirling with emotions she didn’t fully understand.

She had told Junji everything— how she felt, how she found a lot of memories with Orm and how hollow she feels since the night she saw her.

Junji listened carefully, her expression unreadable until Ling finally asked the question that had been clawing at her all week.

“What do I do now?”

Junji set down her coffee, leveling Ling with a look that was both knowing and firm. “You talk to her.”

Ling tensed. “Jun—”

“No.” Junji’s voice was gentle but unwavering. “You need to see her, Ling. Not because of what you think you should feel, but because of what you are feeling.”

Ling exhaled, pressing her hands against her temples. “But what if I hurt her?”

Junji sighed. “Ling… you’re already hurting her.”

Ling’s heart clenched.

Junji leaned in, lowering her voice. “Orm isn’t just waiting for you to remember. She’s waiting for you. Even if you don’t know who you were to each other yet, she does. And I think a part of you does too. She waits for you”

Ling looked away, chewing on her lip. It was hard for her but she know Junji was right, she needed to see Orm.

Junji reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “Just talk to her. That’s all.”

Ling hesitated, but deep down, she knew Junji was right.

It was time.

Ling’s hands were clammy as she held her phone, her thumb hovering over Orm’s contact.

She had spent the past week lost in the depths of her own mind, circling the same unanswered questions, reliving the same restless nights, searching for something—anything—that would help her understand why her heart ached in a way her mind couldn’t explain.

But now, as she stared at Orm’s name on her screen, the weight of everything pressed down on her.

What if this is a mistake? What if I make it worse? What if she doesn’t even want to see me?

She inhaled sharply, shutting her eyes for a moment.

No. She needed this.

She needed to see Orm again.

Before she could second-guess herself, she typed:

Can we meet?

The message sent, the small “delivered” mark appearing almost instantly.

Ling held her breath, gripping her phone tightly.

And then—three dots.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she watched them flicker, disappearing and reappearing, as if Orm, too, was hesitating.

Then, the reply came.

Tell me when and where.

Ling exhaled, staring at the message, her chest tight.

Orm didn’t ask why. Didn’t make her wait. Didn’t push her away.

She was still there.

Ling swallowed hard, the tension in her body easing—just slightly.

Now, she had to decide where to meet her.

And more than that—she had to be ready for whatever came next.

______

Orm’s hands trembled as she set her phone down on the table.

She had barely let herself hope for it.

A message from Ling.

A request to meet.

For a full week, she had prepared herself for the possibility that Ling wouldn’t reach out—that maybe, for Ling, their last encounter in the restroom had been nothing but an awkward meeting with a stranger.

But now, Ling had taken the first step.

Orm felt a mix of emotions surge through her all at once—hope, fear, longing, and something dangerously close to desperation.

She wanted to believe this meant something.

But she didn’t know if Ling wanted to remember, or if she was simply trying to bring closure to something Orm wasn’t ready to let go of.

Her fingers curled into her palm, her heartbeat unsteady.

Tell me when and where.

That was all she had managed to say.

She couldn’t risk saying more.

Not yet.

She leaned back in her chair, staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for her phone to buzz again.

Ling had reached out.

Now, all Orm could do was wait.

And hope.

_______

Junji watched as Ling stared at her phone, her fingers still hovering over the screen, hesitating on something unspoken.

A soft smile tugged at Junji’s lips. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Ling looked up, startled. “For what?”

“For this,” Junji gestured toward the phone in Ling’s hand. “For not running away. For following your feelings instead of shutting them down like you always do.”

Ling’s throat tightened at the words, something deep in her chest shifting at the acknowledgment.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing,” she admitted softly.

Junji shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s something. And that’s more than you had before.”

Ling exhaled slowly, nodding. Then, after a moment of silence, she asked, “Do you know where Orm lives?”

Junji blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

Ling hesitated only for a second before saying, “Take me there.”

Junji raised a brow, her head tilting slightly in surprise. “Wait—you’re going to Orm’s place? Now? Without telling her?”

Ling nodded firmly. “I need to see her. I need to do this before I talk myself out of it.”

Junji studied her for a moment, searching her face for any trace of doubt. “Are you ready for this?”

Ling took a deep breath, pressing a hand against her chest as if steadying herself. “I don’t know. But I’m following my heart right?”

Her fingers curled around her phone, her grip tight. “And right now, my heart needs answers.”

Junji exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, they left.

Ling wasn’t sure what she would find at Orm’s door.

But she was ready to find out.

___________

Orm sat on the couch in her dimly lit apartment, her legs curled up beneath her, phone pressed against her ear.

Mae Koy’s voice came through the speaker, calm but laced with curiosity. “Wait, wait, wait—Ling texted you?”

Orm exhaled, rubbing her forehead. “Yeah.”

Mae hummed knowingly. “And?”

Orm hesitated, her fingers tightening around the phone. “She wants to meet.”

A brief silence. Then—“And you said yes, obviously.”

Orm let out a dry chuckle. “Of course, I said yes, Mae.”

“So why do you sound like you’re about to pass out?”

Orm groaned, leaning her head against the back of the couch. “Because I don’t know what this means. I don’t know if she wants to remember or if she’s just trying to be polite.”

“Orm.” Mae’s voice softened. “You said it yourself—she reached out first. That has to mean something.”

Orm swallowed, her chest aching. “What if I get my hopes up, and she tells me she just wants to move on?”

Mae sighed. “Then you’ll deal with it. But I don’t think that’s what this is. She wouldn’t have reached out if she didn’t feel something. Even if she doesn’t understand it yet.”

Orm bit her lip, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I just don’t want to get hurt again, Mae.”

A pause. Then—“I know, Orm. But I also know you can’t keep pretending you’re okay without her.”

Orm’s eyes stung, but she refused to cry. Mae Koy always had a way of seeing through her.

Before Orm could respond, a soft knock echoed from the door.

She frowned, straightening slightly.

“Someone’s here. I’ll call you back,” she murmured.

Mae’s voice was amused now. “Let me guess. It’s her.”

Orm rolled her eyes. “It’s not—Ling would’ve told me if she was coming.”

“Would she?”

Orm didn’t answer.

She ended the call, standing up and walking toward the door, her heart suddenly pounding for no reason.

She took a deep breath, then pulled it open—

And froze.

Because standing there, looking just as breathless as Orm suddenly felt—

Was Ling.

__________

The moment the door swung open, Ling felt it—

That pull.

That unbearable tightness in her chest, the way the air suddenly felt too thick, too heavy.

Orm stood in front of her, barefoot, dressed in a loose sweater that hung slightly off her shoulder, dark hair still damp from a shower. She looked… soft. Unprepared. Vulnerable.

And yet, Ling felt like she was the one completely exposed.

She had spent a week trying to make sense of the fragments of memories, of the warmth she felt when she found that letter, of the ache that lingered every time she thought about Orm’s eyes in the restroom.

But now, standing in front of her, face to face with the woman who had been haunting her every thought—it was different.

Because this wasn’t a picture. This wasn’t a memory or a dream.

This was real. And it hurt.

The way Orm looked at her, stunned, like she was afraid to hope. The way her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Ling’s heartbeat was erratic, her fingers twitching at her sides.

She knew, deep down, that something had been taken from her—stolen by the accident. A part of her life, of her heart, was missing.

And whatever it was, it was standing right in front of her.

The realization left her breathless.

And suddenly, she was terrified.

Terrified that she had lost something she might never be able to get back.

Terrified that she had hurt this woman—this Orm—in ways she didn’t even understand.

Terrified of what she was feeling.

Because right now, her body, her heart, every fiber of her being knew—

Orm meant something to her.

She had no memories to prove it.

But she felt it. And she wanted to remember. And that was enough to make her throat tighten, her lips parting before she could even think about what she was saying.

“…Hi.”

Her voice was soft. Unsure. But it carried weight, something unspoken clinging to it.

Something that made Orm’s breath hitch.

Ling swallowed, forcing herself to keep her gaze steady despite the storm raging inside her.

“I…” She hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “I didn’t tell you I was coming.”

Orm’s lips barely moved, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t have to.”

Orm felt her breath stall in her chest, like something had knocked the wind out of her.

Ling was standing at her door.

Not in a dream. Not in a memory.

Here. Now.

She hadn’t texted first. Hadn’t warned her. Hadn’t given Orm a chance to prepare herself.

And that terrified her.

Because if there was one thing Orm had done all week, it was prepare.

Prepare for their meeting. Prepare for the possibility that Ling was reaching out for closure, not for her. Prepare for the moment she would have to accept that the person she loved most might never remember her.

But nothing—nothing—could have prepared her for Ling showing up at her doorstep, looking at her like she was trying to make sense of something buried too deep to grasp.

Orm swallowed, struggling to find her voice.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out—to touch, to hold, to pull Ling close and let the ache of longing finally settle.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

A pause.

Then, quietly—“Can I come in?”

Orm blinked, as if shaking herself out of a daze, then immediately stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Yeah. Of course.”

Ling hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping inside, her movements cautious, as if crossing a line she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Orm shut the door softly behind her, exhaling shakily.

The apartment was warm, dimly lit, and smelled faintly of jasmine and something unmistakably Orm.

Ling’s gaze flickered around the room, taking in the space that felt oddly… familiar. She had never been here before—at least, not that she remembered—but there was something comfortable about it.

Like she had spent time here. Like she had belonged.

She swallowed, shifting on her feet as Orm moved beside her, watching her carefully, as if afraid she might disappear at any second.

“How did you get here?” Orm asked softly.

Ling turned to her. “Junji dropped me off.”

A flicker of something—relief? Uncertainty?—crossed Orm’s face before she nodded, her voice quieter now. “…So she knows you’re here.”

Ling hesitated, then nodded. “She does.”

Another beat of silence.

Orm exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

Okay.

That single word carried so much weight.

Ling pressed her lips together, her heart hammering in her chest.

She didn’t know what to say next.

But she knew she was here for a reason.

The moment Ling sank into Orm’s couch, a sudden wave of familiarity crashed over her.

Her fingers lightly grazed the fabric, and for a brief second, she wasn’t in the present anymore.

She was here.

But it was different.

She wasn’t alone.

She could feel the warmth of a body pressed against her—Orm, tucked into her side, the weight of her head resting gently against Ling’s shoulder.

They were wrapped in a thick, soft blanket, the flickering glow of the TV casting a dim light over them.

Orm’s breathing was slow and steady, the kind that only came with complete trust. She had fallen asleep—right there, in Ling’s arms—without hesitation, without fear.

Ling remembered glancing down at her, at the way Orm’s lips parted slightly in sleep, her lashes fluttering ever so faintly, her body unconsciously curling closer, seeking Ling’s warmth.

And Ling had let her.

She had held Orm tighter, her fingers brushing lightly over her arm, tracing delicate, invisible patterns into her skin.

She had felt something then.

Something overwhelming.

Something she hadn’t dared to put into words—until that moment.

She had leaned down, her lips barely grazing Orm’s forehead, pressing the softest of kisses there.

And then, in the quiet, just above a whisper—

"I love you."

The words had spilled out before she could stop them.

They had lingered in the air, unspoken yet so loud.

And Orm—Orm had never heard them.

Because she had already been asleep in her arms.

Ling gasped, her chest tightening as she snapped back to reality.

The room was the same. The couch was the same.

But everything was different now.

She blinked rapidly, her heart racing, her breathing uneven.

Orm was watching her.

Ling swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of the couch as if grounding herself.

This wasn’t a dream.

She had been here before.

With Orm.

With her.

And suddenly, for the first time since the accident, the pieces didn’t feel so impossible to put together anymore. She remembered she had loved Orm. And maybe—just maybe—she still did but she knows deep down that she is still in love, but the question is: Did Orm fell in love with her too?

Ling swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she forced herself back into the present.

The warmth of the memory still clung to her skin, ghostly and unsettling. Her fingers twitched against the couch, tracing the same fabric she had once curled into with Orm by her side.

She forced herself to breathe. Keep it together.

But Orm was watching her.

She noticed the shift instantly—the slight tension in Ling’s shoulders, the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but didn’t.

Orm frowned, her voice soft, careful. “Ling… are you okay?”

Ling’s gaze snapped to her, startled.

For a second, she thought about telling her.

About the flashback. About how real it had felt. About how the warmth of it still lingered in her bones. But she hesitated. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

So instead, she inhaled slowly, forcing a small, reassuring nod. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Orm didn’t look convinced.

Her eyes searched Ling’s face, like she was trying to read between the lines of an unwritten story.

Ling held her breath.

But after a moment, Orm exhaled softly, leaning back slightly. She didn’t push.

Not yet.

“…Okay.”

The air between them felt heavier now, but neither of them moved.

And Ling—Ling wasn’t sure if she wanted to run or stay. Because for the first time since the accident, she wasn’t just standing at the edge of something.

She was falling into it.

Ling inhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. The memory still clung to her, the weight of it pressing into her chest like a silent echo. But she forced it down, locking it away before it could consume her.

She wasn’t here to lose herself in fragments of the past she didn’t fully understand.

She was here for answers.

And for the first time, she was ready to ask for them.

Ling shifted slightly, sitting up straighter, meeting Orm’s gaze head-on. “How close were we?”

Orm’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected Ling to speak first, let alone that.

Her fingers curled into her sweater, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.

This was it. This was what she had been waiting for.

Orm swallowed, her voice quiet, careful. “We were… very close.”

Ling held her gaze, something in her expression unreadable. “How close?”

Orm hesitated. She could feel the weight of the question pressing down on her, suffocating and terrifying.

Because this—this—was the moment where the truth could either bring them together or push them further apart.

She licked her lips, forcing herself to be steady.

“We were best friends,” Orm said slowly, deliberately.

Ling’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she could tell there was more to the answer.

Orm hesitated for only a second before adding, “But… it wasn’t just that.”

Ling’s fingers curled against the couch.

She knew that already.

She felt it.

But she needed to hear it from Orm.

Her voice was quieter this time, careful but firm. “What was it, then?”

Orm’s throat tightened.

She could lie. She could soften the truth. She could hold back, keep it safe, avoid the risk of overwhelming Ling all at once.

But Ling was asking.

And Orm had promised herself—if Ling ever asked, she wouldn’t lie.

So, she exhaled shakily, her voice barely above a whisper.

“…I loved you.”

Ling’s breath hitched.

Orm didn’t look away.

“I still do. I’ve been in love with you for a moment now but I was never brave enough to tell you the truth back then and I regret it every day.”

Silence.

Ling’s chest rose and fell, her fingers tightening against her lap, but she said nothing.

Orm swallowed.

Then, softer—almost pleading—she added, “And you loved me, too apparently. That’s what your brother implied, but you never told me either”

Ling’s world tilted. She didn’t know if it was the truth.

She didn’t know if she remembered it.

But her heart—her heart—was pounding like it already knew. Ling’s fingers twitched slightly against the couch, her pulse roaring in her ears.

Her own voice echoed in her head, distant yet undeniable—

"I love you."

She had said it.

Not to Orm’s face, not in the way she should have, but she had whispered it, breathed it into the warmth of that quiet moment, letting the words settle into the space between them.

And Orm had never heard it.

“I did confess,” Ling murmured, barely above a whisper, almost as if saying it too loud would make it disappear.

Orm’s entire body went still.

“What?” Her voice cracked slightly, her eyes searching Ling’s face as if trying to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.

Ling swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I… I had a flashback. Just now. When I sat down.”

Orm sucked in a sharp breath.

Ling hesitated, but the words came anyway. “We were here. On this couch. Watching something together. You fell asleep in my arms.”

Orm’s lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Ling glanced down at her hands, her fingers curling into her lap. “I… I kissed your forehead.” She inhaled shakily. “And I told you I loved you.”

Silence.

A silence so thick it felt suffocating.

Orm’s eyes glistened, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “You—”

“I don’t remember anything else,” Ling cut in quickly, frustration lacing her tone. “Just that. Just that moment. And I—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

Orm’s hands clenched into fists against her lap, but her voice was gentle, steady. “You don’t have to do anything, Ling.”

Ling looked up, searching her face. “But—”

“I mean it,” Orm interrupted softly. “You don’t have to force yourself to feel something just because of a memory.”

Ling’s chest tightened.

That wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.

It wasn’t that she felt nothing.

It was that she felt too much.

And she had no idea what to do with it.

She forced herself to meet Orm’s gaze, her heart hammering. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

Orm smiled faintly, though there was sadness in it. “You don’t have to have the answers right now.”

Ling’s breath hitched.

Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she was looking for answers—

Or if she was afraid she already knew them.

The silence between them was thick, charged with something Ling wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

Orm’s eyes were locked onto hers, wide with something raw—hope, disbelief, love—all tangled together in a way that made Ling’s chest tighten.

She didn’t know what to say next. She wasn’t even sure if she could say anything.

But before either of them could break the moment, a sharp vibration shattered the stillness.

Ling flinched slightly, turning toward the source—her phone, resting in her pocket.

Orm blinked, seeming to come back to herself, as Ling hesitated before pulling out the device.

Her stomach clenched the second she saw the name flashing on the screen.

Niran.

Her brother.

Her heart kicked up a notch.

“What is it?” Orm asked, her voice soft but alert, immediately reading the shift in Ling’s expression.

Ling’s fingers hovered over the screen before she inhaled deeply and answered. “Niran?”

His voice came through the speaker, hurried, tense. “Ling, where are you?”

Ling frowned, sitting up straighter. “I—” She glanced at Orm before replying. “I’m at Orm’s.”

A beat of silence.

Then—“Okay. Good. I was about to call her next.”

Orm sat up fully now, her entire posture alert. “What’s going on?”

Ling could hear movement in the background, the distant murmur of voices, something rustling.

Niran’s voice was tight when he finally spoke again.

"It’s about the accident. The police just called. They have new information."

Ling’s grip on the phone tightened. “What?”

Orm’s entire body tensed beside her.

Ling’s heart pounded as she waited for Niran to continue, dread curling around her ribs like a vice.

"I’m on my way to your apartment Ling. You both need to hear this. Meet me there"

The line went dead.

Ling lowered the phone slowly, her breathing shallow, her pulse erratic.

Orm was already reaching for her shoes, her face unreadable. “Let’s go.”

Ling swallowed hard, nodding. Whatever this was—It wasn’t over.

The drive was quiet.

Too quiet.

Orm’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles pale under the pressure. She wasn’t even sure if she was breathing properly.

Beside her, Ling sat rigid, eyes locked on the passing streetlights, fingers curled tightly around her phone as if it was the only thing anchoring her.

Neither of them had spoken since they left the apartment.

The weight of Niran’s words clung to the air between them.

"It’s about the accident. The police just called. They have new information."

Ling swallowed hard, pressing the phone against her lap, her leg bouncing slightly.

She wasn’t sure if it was nerves, frustration, or fear clawing at her, but she could feel her chest tightening with every passing second.

It had been weeks since the accident.

Weeks of trying to move forward. And now— Now, it felt like she was being pulled right back to the moment she wanted to forget the most.

She took a slow breath, forcing her voice to steady. “Do you think…” She hesitated before finishing, “Do you think this is good news?”

Orm’s grip tightened slightly before she let out a slow, measured breath. “I don’t know.”

It was the truth.

Ling’s fingers curled tighter around her phone. “I just—I thought it was over. I thought they caught the stalkers. So what else could there be?”

Orm didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t sure what to say.

But she knew one thing for certain. Whatever the police had uncovered—

It wasn’t nothing.

Orm finally glanced at Ling, her voice softer when she spoke again. “Whatever it is… we’ll face it together.”

Ling exhaled sharply, her grip loosening just slightly. She didn’t say anything. But for the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel alone. And that…That was enough.

The moment Ling and Orm stepped into the apartment, Niran was already standing near the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

His face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable.

Ling barely had time to set down her bag before she spoke. “What’s going on?”

Niran turned toward them, his eyes scanning her carefully before flicking to Orm. He let out a slow breath, then gestured toward the couch. “Sit. You’ll want to be comfortable for this.”

That only made Ling more anxious.

Still, she obeyed, settling onto the couch while Orm hesitated only a second before taking the seat beside her.

Niran remained standing, running a hand through his hair, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was trying to figure out how to say what he needed to.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“The police called me because they’ve uncovered new evidence.” He exhaled. “And it changes everything we thought we knew about the accident.”

Ling’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

Niran’s jaw tensed. “Ling… they don’t think it was an accident.”

The room went completely silent. Ling’s chest tightened, her heartbeat loud in her ears.

She swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “What?”

Orm straightened beside her, her entire body going rigid. “What are you saying, Niran?”

Niran hesitated for a split second, then looked directly at Ling.

“I’m saying someone might have caused the crash on purpose.”

Ling’s stomach dropped.

Her fingers dug into her lap, her nails pressing into her skin as her breathing turned shallow. “That’s not possible. The stalkers—”

“They were involved,” Niran interrupted. “But they weren’t working alone. The police just got access to security footage from a different angle—one they didn’t have before. It shows another car. One that was tailing you long before Tristan noticed.”

Ling felt the world tilt slightly.

Another car?

Orm leaned forward, her voice sharp. “Did they get the plates?”

Niran shook his head. “No. It was too far away. But they know it wasn’t random.”

Ling exhaled shakily, trying to process. “So, what does this mean?”

Niran’s expression darkened. “It means that someone might have wanted to hurt you and is still out there.”

Ling’s fingers curled into fists.

This wasn’t just about stalkers anymore.

This was something bigger.

And for the first time since the accident, she realized—

She wasn’t just a victim of bad luck.

Someone wanted her gone. And that terrified her.

The weight of Niran’s words settled into the silence like a stone, heavy and suffocating.

Ling’s breath came uneven, her mind racing through every possibility, every outcome, every terrifying realization.

Someone had wanted her dead. And they were still out there.

Her fingers curled tighter, her knuckles white. Orm, sitting beside her, hadn’t moved—but Ling could feel it.

The shift.

The quiet but dangerous way her presence changed.Her posture, usually relaxed, was tense, rigid, ready.

Ling barely had time to register the fear gripping her chest before Orm spoke, her voice low, controlled—but brimming with something dark beneath the surface.

"Who?"

Niran let out a heavy breath. "We don’t know yet. The police are still investigating, but they’re taking it seriously. They believe someone was following you for longer than just that night."

Orm’s fingers dug into her knees. "And they didn’t realize this earlier? After what happened last year to both of us?"

Niran shook his head. "I know Ormie…The footage was from a private building further from the scene. It took time to access. But now that they have it, they’re trying to find out who was in that car and why they were following Ling."

Ling’s stomach churned and also flinched at her brother’s nickname for Orm but she put that in the back of her mind for now.

"So, what do I do?" she asked, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

Niran looked at her, his features unreadable. "For now? Be careful. The police will keep looking, but until we know more, you need to be on guard. Always. I talked to mum and dad and I’ll stay with you here for a while"

Orm let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. "And she’s not going anywhere alone."

Ling turned to her, startled. "Orm—"

"No." Orm’s voice was firm, her jaw clenched. "I’m serious, Ling. Someone is still out there, and I’m not letting them get another chance."

Ling opened her mouth, ready to argue, but stopped. Because the look in Orm’s eyes wasn’t just determination. It was fear.

For her. Orm was terrified of losing her.

And for the first time since waking up in the hospital, Ling understood just how much Orm was willing to protect her.

Her chest tightened.

Because despite everything—despite the missing memories, the uncertainty, the fear—

Orm was still hers. She could feel it. And that? That was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

Niran stayed for a while longer, talking through the police’s next steps, reassuring Ling that she wasn’t alone in this. But eventually, he decided to give her space, stepping out to make a few calls, leaving only her and Orm in the quiet apartment.

The moment the door closed behind him, Orm exhaled sharply, pressing the heels of her palms against her temples.

Ling watched her from the couch, sensing the weight pressing down on her.

Orm was worried.

No—Orm was terrified.

And Ling knew it wasn’t just about the accident anymore.

It was about her.

It was about losing her.

Again.

Orm turned slightly, her eyes locking onto Ling’s. She hesitated, like she wanted to say something, but instead, she just shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

Ling frowned, shifting forward slightly. “Orm…”

Orm closed her eyes briefly, letting out a slow breath before finally whispering, “I can’t—” She stopped herself, jaw clenching.

Ling’s fingers twitched in her lap. “Can’t what?”

Orm opened her eyes again, and there it was.

The raw fear.

The emotion she had been holding back all night.

“I can’t lose you again, Ling.”

The words were soft, but they broke something between them.

Ling’s breath hitched, her chest tightening.

Orm swallowed hard, looking away as if the confession had left her exposed. “The last time—when I thought I lost you—I barely survived it. And now, knowing that someone might still be out there, that you’re still in danger, that I might not be able to—”

She stopped herself again, her throat bobbing as she struggled to hold everything in.

Ling’s fingers curled into fists, something twisting painfully inside her.

She didn’t remember everything.

She didn’t remember them.

But in this moment, she understood Orm.

She felt her.

And for the first time since the accident, Ling didn’t feel lost.

She felt found.

“…You won’t lose me,” Ling whispered, the words slipping out before she even realized she had said them.

Orm looked at her, startled, eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Ling swallowed, feeling her heart pound in her chest, steady and certain.

“I don’t remember everything,” she admitted. “But I know one thing—I trust you, Orm.”

Orm inhaled sharply.

And just like that, the weight pressing down on her lifted—just a little.

She nodded slowly, her voice quiet but firm. “Then let me protect you.”

Ling didn’t answer right away. But she didn’t need to. Because for once—she wasn’t running. She was staying. And that was enough.