Danger ⚠️

The morning was quiet, the apartment bathed in soft golden light filtering through the curtains. Ling stirred, shifting slightly against the warmth pressed around her, but she didn’t open her eyes just yet. She didn't even realize yet that Orm was wrapping her in her arms.

She felt safe.

The steady rise and fall of Orm’s breathing against her back, the warmth of her arms loosely wrapped around her waist—it was grounding in a way Ling didn’t want to question. She let herself melt into it, let herself absorb the comfort before the world came rushing back.

Then, suddenly, something flickered behind her closed lids.

A memory.

She was lying in a hotel bed, the weight of exhaustion settling into her limbs after a long fan meeting. The air conditioning hummed softly, the faint sound of traffic outside barely audible from their high-rise room.

Orm had her arm draped over her waist, just like now, her breath warm against the back of her neck. They had collapsed like this after hours of greeting fans, signing posters, and answering questions under the bright stage lights.

“I don’t wanna move,” Orm had murmured, voice drowsy, hushed in the dimness.

Ling had smiled, shifting slightly to press her back more fully against Orm’s chest. “Then don’t.”

Orm’s hold tightened, just barely. “I think I like this too much.”

Ling had felt her heart squeeze at that. “Me too baby.”

The warmth of the memory was so vivid that Ling almost gasped when she came back to the present, her fingers twitching against the fabric of the couch. Her eyes fluttered open, her heart pounding—not out of fear, but something else, something deeper.

It hadn’t been just a dream.

It was real.

It had happened.

Ling swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, trying to make sense of the emotions surging through her. Her body remembered, even when her mind had struggled for weeks. And now, waking up like this—just like before—felt so right that it terrified her.

She barely had time to process it before—

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!”

Ling jolted upright with a sharp gasp, Orm’s arms slipping away as both of them were startled awake.

Niran stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, his grin absolutely wicked. “I swear, I was gonna be all sentimental about this, but nah. This is too good.”

Orm groaned, rubbing her face with one hand while propping herself up with the other. “What the hell, Niran?”

Ling blinked rapidly, her brain still foggy from sleep and the memory, but when she realized what Niran had just witnessed, heat flared up her neck.

“We weren’t— It’s not—”

Niran held up a hand, dramatically sighing. “Save it, sis. The damage is done. You two were cuddling.”

Orm let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so annoying.”

“Thank you,” Niran said smugly. “Also, I brought food, so if you two can stop acting like I didn’t just walk in on a scene straight out of a romance drama, that’d be great.”

Ling glared, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to compose herself. “I hate you.”

Niran beamed. “Love you too.”

Orm sighed, swinging her legs over the couch, her body still adjusting to being upright. “What did you bring?”

Niran wiggled his eyebrows. “Your favorites. Because I’m the best little brother ever.”

Ling rolled her eyes, standing up to stretch, but her mind was still spinning. She stole a glance at Orm, who was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, looking far too comfortable for someone who had just been caught in such an intimate moment.

Ling didn’t know what to do with the memory still clinging to her thoughts, with the way her body had reacted, with the ache in her chest.

But she knew one thing—this wasn’t over.

And neither was the danger looming over them.

The morning carried on, breakfast filled with Niran’s usual antics, but Orm and Ling barely touched their food. Their minds were elsewhere.

Then the call came.The police had a suspect.

____________

Orm checked her phone, letting out a quiet sigh. Her mother had just sent a reminder that they had lunch planned before she headed to set. She had almost forgotten.

Ling, who had been quietly sipping her coffee, glanced up at the sound. “What is it?”

Orm hesitated for a second before answering. “I need to leave soon. My mom wants to have lunch before I head to work.”

Something in Ling’s expression shifted. It wasn’t disappointment—not exactly. But it wasn’t neutral either.

Niran, always one to notice, raised a brow. “So you’re actually leaving her side for once? Should I be worried?”

Orm shot him a look. “I’m not leaving her unprotected.”

“We’re going to the station anyway,” Ling added, her fingers tapping idly against her mug. “The chief wants to meet us, apparently. They have more information.”

That got Orm’s full attention. She straightened. “What kind of information?”

Ling shook her head. “They didn’t say over the phone. Just that we should come in.”

A muscle in Orm’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like it. She wanted to go with them.

Niran caught the hesitation and smirked. “Relax, Ormie. I’ll be there. And we’re literally going to the police station. If someone tries anything there, I think we’ve got bigger problems.”

Orm ignored the nickname. She still wasn’t happy.

Ling noticed. “We’ll be fine,” she said, softer this time.

Orm met her gaze. Ling’s voice was steady, but there was something else there, something deeper. Something that reminded Orm that Ling wasn’t just some damsel to be protected—she was strong, capable, and determined to fight this as much as anyone else.

Still, the thought of leaving her right now made something uneasy coil in her stomach.

Ling must have sensed it because, after a pause, she reached out—just briefly—her fingers brushing against Orm’s wrist before she pulled back.

It was quick. Barely anything. But it was enough.

Orm exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. But call me the second anything feels off.”

Ling smirked, lifting her phone. “Yes, mother.”

Orm rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself.

Niran clapped his hands together. “Okay, great. Now that that’s settled, can we actually get going? I don’t want to spend all day at the station.”

Ling nodded, already moving toward the door to grab her jacket. Orm watched her for a moment, then grabbed her own bag, heading toward the entrance.

As they all stepped outside, Orm hesitated.

She turned back to Ling, eyes searching. “Be careful.”

Ling’s smile softened, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “You too.”

And with that, they went their separate ways.

_________

Orm sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car, her fingers tapping against her thigh as she stared out the window. The city moved past them in a blur, but her mind was somewhere else.

Mae Koy, who had been silently observing her for the past few minutes, finally spoke. “You’re thinking about her.”

Orm’s fingers stilled. She turned to her mother, not bothering to deny it. “She hasn’t texted since she got to the station.”

Mae hummed in understanding, keeping her eyes on the road. “She’s with Niran. And at a police station. She’s safe darling don’t worry.”

Orm exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I know. It’s just… after everything, I don’t like not knowing what’s happening.”

Mae glanced at her briefly before turning her attention back to the road. “That’s why I talked to your father.”

Orm frowned. “What?”

Mae sighed. “I know how much this is affecting you. And I know you’d never ask for his help yourself, so I did it for you.” She shot Orm a pointed look. “Your father has connections, Orm. Powerful ones. I asked him to use them.”

Orm’s stomach twisted. Her relationship with her father had always been close but she never wanted to be a burden for him. He was a man with influence, and if there was one thing Mae Koy was right about, it was that he got things done.

Orm let out a slow breath. “And he agreed?”

Mae smirked. “Of course. You’re his daughter. He’ll never say it outright, but he’d move mountains if you asked. And believe it or not, he knows how much Ling means to you…”

Orm swallowed, unsure how she felt about that. But if it helped Ling…

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Mae reached over, briefly squeezing Orm’s hand before returning it to the wheel. “We’ll find whoever’s doing this. And until then, you need to focus. You have a job to do today.”

Right. The photoshoot.

Orm had almost forgotten.

When they arrived at the studio, the usual flurry of activity greeted them—stylists, photographers, assistants rushing around. Orm took a deep breath, slipping into work mode.

She was good at this. She knew how to compartmentalize, how to switch into the version of herself that the cameras needed.

But even as she sat through hair and makeup, even as she stepped onto the set, even as the lights flashed and the photographer called out directions—her mind never left Ling.

She kept glancing at her phone between takes. Still nothing. Orm clenched her jaw, turning her focus back to the camera. She needed to get through this. Then she’d find out what was going on.

_______________

Ling and Niran arrived at the police station just after noon. The air inside was heavy with the scent of old paperwork and burnt coffee, the low murmur of officers speaking in hushed tones filling the space.

Ling adjusted her sunglasses, not because she was trying to be discreet—anyone who paid attention to social media knew she had been spending more time at home lately—but because her head was still pounding from a restless night.

Despite Orm’s warmth lingering on her skin, despite the stolen moment of peace, Ling had barely slept. Her thoughts had been a mess. The messages, Orm’s reaction, the realization that whoever was targeting her was now targeting Orm too.

It made her sick.

She was used to being under a microscope. Stalkers, obsessed fans, media scandals—it came with the job. But this was different. This was calculated. Personal.

And worse? It wasn’t just her problem anymore.

She glanced at Niran, who was walking beside her, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his face unreadable. He hadn’t said much on the way here, but she knew he was thinking the same thing.

They were ushered into a private office, a small room with a large desk cluttered with files and a half-eaten sandwich. The chief investigator, Inspector Prawit, was waiting for them, his expression as grim as ever.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, gesturing for them to sit.

Ling lowered herself into the chair across from him, while Niran leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“You have an update?” Ling asked, her voice steady despite the way her fingers curled against her lap.

Prawit exhaled, reaching for a folder. “We’ve been tracking the messages, the accounts they’re coming from. As expected, they’re all proxies. Whoever is behind this is careful. They don’t leave digital footprints easily.”

Ling’s jaw tightened. “So you have nothing.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Prawit slid the folder toward her. “There was one slip.”

Ling hesitated before flipping it open. Inside were printed screenshots, logs of transactions, timestamps.

And then—

She froze.

There, among the digital mess, was a name.

A familiar one.

Her heartbeat slammed into her ribs.

Niran stepped forward, peering over her shoulder. “Thanom Ratchada?” His brows furrowed. “The billionaire?”

Ling swallowed, gripping the edge of the folder. “What does he have to do with this?”

Prawit leaned back. “We don’t know yet. But his name came up in a flagged transaction—linked to a private security firm that specializes in surveillance.”

A cold shiver ran down Ling’s spine.

“Surveillance,” she repeated.

Prawit nodded. “It could be unrelated. Wealthy people hire private firms all the time for protection, business disputes—”

“No,” Ling cut in. Her stomach twisted. “It’s not unrelated.”

Because she knew that name. She remembered hearing it before, in passing, a story Orm had told her once— 

Then, another memory struck. A conversation from months ago.

I was at this café, and some businessman tried to get my number. He was polite, I guess, but something about him felt… off.

Did you give it to him?

Of course not. He was older, controlling, and he talked about my career like it was a business opportunity instead of something I actually love.

Ling had laughed at the time, teasing Orm about being hit on by rich men. She hadn’t thought anything of it.

Now?

Now, it felt like a crucial piece of a puzzle she hadn’t even realized she was part of.

Her grip tightened on the folder.

“This isn’t a coincidence,” she murmured, voice low, controlled. “He’s obsessed with Orm.”

Niran straightened, his whole body tensing. “And if he’s the one behind this…”

Ling exhaled sharply, closing the folder.

Then he won’t stop until I’m gone. He wants her.

Prawit watched her carefully. “We’re looking deeper into his background, seeing if there are any direct ties between him and the previous attack on your car. But you need to be careful. If he’s as well-connected as we think, confronting him head-on could be dangerous.”

Ling set the folder back on the desk.

“We’ll be careful,” she said, pushing back from the chair.

Niran followed suit, his jaw tight. “You’ll keep us updated?”

Prawit nodded. “Of course. And in the meantime, stay aware of your surroundings. If he’s involved, he’s not working alone. Rich men are often the most dangerous ones”

Ling didn’t need the warning. She already knew. As she walked out of the station with Niran at her side, her mind was already racing ahead.

Orm was at her photoshoot, completely unaware. And Thanom Ratchada was playing a game that neither of them had agreed to.

But he had made one mistake. He thought Ling was the weak link.

He thought she would crumble, that she would run, that she would be too afraid to fight back.

But he was wrong. Because now, he wasn’t just dealing with Orm’s overprotective nature.

He was dealing with her. And Ling wasn’t about to lose Orm again. Every fiber of her body made sure she could feel it, this heart pounding just at the thought of Orm. 

Niran and Ling walked in silence for a while after leaving the police station, the city humming around them, busy and indifferent to the storm brewing inside Ling’s mind. She barely registered the honking of cars, the occasional glances from people who recognized them. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

“Let’s eat,” Niran finally said, breaking the silence. “You need to put something in your stomach before you start overthinking yourself into a coma.”

Ling shot him a tired glare, but she didn’t argue. She was overthinking.

They found a quiet restaurant not far from the station, one that was secluded enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about prying eyes. The moment they sat down, Niran ordered for both of them, not even asking what she wanted. He already knew.

Ling watched as he leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table absentmindedly.

She exhaled slowly. “I’m remembering more.”

Niran’s gaze sharpened immediately. “How much?”

She hesitated. “Not everything. Just… pieces.” She fiddled with the napkin in her lap. “But it’s getting harder to ignore.”

Niran leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Tell me.”

Ling inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. “It’s like… my heart never forgot. Like my body just knows Orm in a way my mind is still catching up to.”

She swallowed, looking away. “I woke up in her arms this morning, Niran. And I didn’t even realize it. I didn’t fight it. It felt… natural.”

Niran stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“I keep having these flashes,” she continued, voice softer now. “Like last night, when I hugged her in the kitchen. It wasn’t just a moment. It was familiar. I saw us—before—in a hotel room, after a fan meeting, the way I used to hold her like that all the time. And this morning, when I woke up, it felt the same. It felt right.”

Niran exhaled slowly, his lips pressing together. “You’re scared.”

Ling nodded. “Because what if… what if I never forgot at all? What if I just buried it? And now it’s all coming back because I was never supposed to lose it in the first place?”

Niran leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “a year ago, you told me something.”

Ling frowned. “What?”

He studied her carefully before continuing. “You told me you were in love with Orm.”

Her breath hitched.

Niran nodded, watching her reaction. “You told me you had realized it during Only You, but you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to ruin what you had. But you were going to tell her. After the series wrapped, you were going to confess.”

Ling’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“But then,” Niran continued, “something happened. You never told me what. You just changed your mind. And I never understood why.”

Ling looked down, her heart pounding.

He kept his gaze on her. “And then you had the accident. And I saw Orm panic like I’ve never seen anyone panic in my life. That was when I knew.”

Ling lifted her head.

“That girl is in love with you, Ling,” Niran said, no hesitation in his voice. “And you know it, too.And I’ve known it for longer sis. I have never seen you happier than when you’re with Orm.”

She swallowed hard.

“So tell me,” Niran leaned in, voice gentler now. “What are you waiting for? Because I know you’re selective amnesia is not your excuse”

Ling opened her mouth, but no words came. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. She wasn’t waiting for her memories to return. She was waiting for the courage to face what she already knew in her heart. She loved Orm, she could feel it.

___________

Thanom Ratchada had always been patient.

A man like him, with his wealth, power, and connections, knew how to wait. He had built his life on it, had climbed to the top because he understood timing better than anyone. But for the first time in his life, Thanom Ratchada was losing his patience.

And it was all because of her.

Orm Kornnaphat had been the one thing in his life that refused to fall in line, refused to see what was meant to be.

It had started 3 years ago, when he first saw her on screen in The Secret of Us.

It wasn’t just her beauty. He had seen beautiful women before, had had them, had discarded them when they outlived their usefulness. But Orm was different. She had presence. Strength. A quiet vulnerability beneath the surface that made people want to protect her.

It had started as admiration, then fascination, then obsession.

She was everything he had ever wanted.

And she would have been his, if it hadn’t been for Ling.

His fingers tightened around his glass, the weight of it grounding him as his mind flickered back to that day in the café, months ago—the first and only time he had spoken to Orm directly.

He had chosen the setting carefully. A quiet, upscale café. Private, but not intimate. He had dressed well but not ostentatiously, had planned his words with care.

He hadn’t been aggressive. He didn’t need to be.

He was Thanom Ratchada. A billionaire. A man whose name alone opened doors, a man who could offer Orm anything.

And yet, she had looked at him with polite indifference. Had listened, nodded, given him her signature soft smile—the same smile she gave to fans, to strangers, to people she barely noticed.

And then, in the most casual, effortless way, she had told him no.

No interest. No possibility. Not even hesitation.

As if he had never even been a factor. As if he was beneath her notice. As if her heart had already belonged to someone else.

His jaw clenched.

It hadn’t taken him long to find out who that someone else was.

Ling Kwong.

That woman—
That thing—
That nobody.

It was her. It had always been her.

He had seen it long before Orm herself had probably realized it.

The way Orm’s eyes softened when she looked at Ling. The way she always seemed to hover near her, drawn in like a moth to a flame. The way she let Ling break every one of her carefully constructed walls.

It made him sick.

Thanom had spent his whole life around powerful women. Women who knew their roles. Women who understood the weight of status, of legacy. Women who played the game as it was meant to be played.

Ling was not one of them.

She was reckless. Disruptive. A storm that left chaos in her wake and called it love.

And Orm—his Orm—had let herself be dragged into it.

That day in the café, he had nodded. Had smiled. Had accepted her rejection as if it was nothing. Had left a generous tip, walked out with the same careful composure he always carried.

And then, he had begun planning.

He had given Orm time to see her mistake. Had let her have her foolish attachment, waiting for the moment she would realize who truly deserved her. That this Lingling Kwong was just a womanizer who didn’t deserve his Orm. But he saw how Ling looked at Orm in interviews, she was so enraptured by Orm it hurt.

And then Ling had survived. She should have died that day.

It had been the perfect plan. Clean. Untraceable. A necessary accident to set things right.

And yet, she had survived. Fate had tested him. Made him wait a little longer.

But he could wait.

Because now, Ling wasn’t just living. She was thriving. She was crawling her way back into Orm’s arms, step by step, piece by piece. And Orm—blind, foolish, lost—was letting her.

He had seen the photos. Orm at Ling’s apartment. Orm at her side, protective, devoted.

His stomach turned with disgust. But this time, he wouldn’t rely on fate.

This time, he would fix it himself. Because he would not let Orm waste herself on someone so beneath her.

She deserved better. She deserved him.

And soon—very soon—Orm Kornnaphat would have no choice but to see him.

Because soon, Ling Kwong would finally be out of the way. For good.

________

After the photoshoot wrapped, and now changed, ready to head back home, Orm finally got a message from Ling.

It was short, straight to the point.

We found a suspect. I’ll tell you more when I get home.

Orm exhaled, the tension in her chest loosening just slightly. She had been on edge all day, waiting for any sign that Ling was okay. That she wasn’t in danger. That whatever the police had found would bring them closer to an end.

Her fingers hovered over her phone as she typed back.

Do you want me to come over?

She hesitated, about to press send—

A notification popped up at the top of her screen.

A direct message.

From an account she didn’t recognize.

Orm frowned, her thumb swiping down to open it without thinking.

@shadowswhisper sent you a message.

No profile picture. No bio. No posts.

Just a single, unread message.

Her stomach tightened as she tapped it open.

The words were simple. But they hit like a knife to the gut.

You should stay away from her. She was never yours to have.

Last time, she survived. Next time, she won’t.

Orm’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers clenched around the phone, her entire body going still. Cold spread through her veins, slow and suffocating.

Her mind raced.This wasn’t the first time.

This wasn’t the first message.

It had been months ago, long before the accident, back when Ling had first started getting weird threats. Orm had gotten one too—just one—similar in tone, just as vague, just as menacing. She had dismissed it at the time, thinking it was some obsessed fan, someone trying to scare her because of how close she and Ling had always been.

But now?

Now she knew better.

This wasn’t just some crazed follower.

This was the same person. The same one who had wanted Ling dead. The one who had almost succeeded.

And they weren’t done.

Orm’s pulse hammered against her ribs as she reread the words, her vision tunneling in on the screen. Her jaw locked, breath shallow, heart pounding in her ears.

Whoever this was, they had been watching. They had been planning.

And now, they were making it clear:

This wasn’t over.

Orm slowly set her phone down on the vanity table in front of her, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was calm. Too calm. But beneath the surface, rage simmered, cold and quiet and lethal.

They thought they could scare her. They thought they could take Ling away from her.

They thought wrong.

With steady hands, Orm picked up her phone again. She didn’t reply to the message. She didn’t block the account.

Instead, she took a screenshot, saved it, and forwarded it straight to Niran.

Then, she finally sent her reply to Ling.

I’ll be at yours soon.

Because there was no way in hell she was leaving Ling alone tonight.

Whoever was behind this had made a mistake.

They had underestimated her. She will never lose Ling agan.

________

The apartment was quiet, the city lights flickering outside the window, casting shadows across the room. Ling sat curled up on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees, her thoughts a mess of tangled memories and emotions she didn’t know how to name.

Niran leaned against the armrest, watching her carefully, his usual teasing smirk absent for once. He could tell something was weighing her down, something more than just the revelation at the police station.

“You’ve been quiet since we got back,” he finally said. “Too quiet.”

Ling exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just… processing.”

Niran tilted his head. “Processing what, exactly?”

Ling hesitated. She had spent so long keeping this inside, convincing herself it wasn’t important, that it didn’t matter. But now, with the truth about Thanom finally coming to light, she couldn’t bury it anymore.

She looked up, meeting Niran’s gaze. “I need to tell you something.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “Go on.”

Ling inhaled deeply. “A few months ago… I was at a shoot. It was a small campaign, nothing major, but security was tight. Or so I thought.” Her fingers curled into her palms. “During a break, I stepped outside for air. And that’s when it happened.”

Niran straightened. “What happened?”

Ling’s stomach twisted at the memory. “A man approached me. I didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t part of the crew, wasn’t supposed to be there, but he spoke to me like he knew me.”

Niran’s entire body went still. “What did he say?”

Ling swallowed. “He told me to stay the hell away from Orm.”

Silence.

Niran blinked, as if trying to process the words. “Wait—what?”

“He said I didn’t deserve her. That she was too good for me, that she was precious, and that I was ruining her.” Her voice wavered, but she kept going. “He told me that I would only bring her pain. That someone like me—someone reckless, someone who didn’t care about the weight of her name—would only hurt her in the end.”

Niran’s hands clenched into fists. “Who the hell—”

“I didn’t know who he was,” Ling cut in. “Not at the time. I thought he was just another obsessive fan, some creep who didn’t like me being around Orm. It happens all the time, you know that.” She let out a bitter laugh. “But now? Now I know exactly who he was.”

Niran’s jaw tightened. “Thanom.”

Ling nodded. “It was him. He found me. He knew where I was, where I’d be.” Her voice shook. “And that scared me.”

Niran exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve told Orm.”

Ling’s lips pressed together. “I didn’t tell anyone. I just… I didn’t want to believe it. And more than that, I didn’t want to risk it.”

She looked down, her nails digging into her palms. “That’s why I never told Orm how I felt.”

The words hung in the air like a confession she had been holding onto for too long.

Niran’s gaze sharpened. “Wait. What?”

Ling swallowed, her voice quieter now. “I was going to tell her, Niran. I was going to confess after Only You wrapped.” She let out a shaky breath. “But then that happened. And I realized that loving Orm… meant putting her in danger.”

Niran’s face paled slightly. “Ling—”

“I couldn’t do it,” she continued, her voice breaking. “I couldn’t be the reason someone hurt her. So I pushed it down. I told myself it was better this way. That as long as she was safe, it didn’t matter how I felt.”

Her hands trembled, her breath coming uneven. “But the accident happened anyway. And I lost everything. I lost my memories, I lost her, and now—”

She stopped.

Something clicked in her mind.

Niran was staring at her, his expression unreadable. “Ling,” he said carefully, his voice low. “You remember.”

Ling’s breath hitched.

She blinked, her pulse pounding, her heart feeling like it was too big for her chest.

She remembered.

It wasn’t just flashes anymore. It wasn’t just fragments of feelings, or the warmth of Orm’s arms, or the ghost of old emotions clinging to her skin.

It was everything.

She could see it so clearly now—the late-night rehearsals, the way Orm’s eyes softened when they were alone, the quiet moments between scenes, the stolen glances when they thought no one was looking.

The way she had felt for Orm. The way she had loved her.

And the way she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Niran leaned forward, gripping her arm gently. “Ling,” he said again, slower this time. “You remember.”

Ling swallowed hard. “I do.”

The weight of it crashed over her, overwhelming and undeniable.

She had never forgotten. Not really.

Her body had known before her mind could catch up, but now there was no more denying it. No more running from it.

She had loved Orm.

She still loved Orm.

Niran exhaled, rubbing his face. “Holy shit.”

Ling let out a breathless laugh, but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow, filled with something close to grief. “Yeah. Holy shit.”

A sharp knock at the door cut through the moment.

Ling’s heart stalled.

She turned to Niran, wide-eyed. He frowned but stood up, moving toward the door cautiously. “Expecting someone?”

Ling shook her head. “No.”

Niran opened the door.

And there, standing in the hallway, looking like she had run to get here—was Orm.

She wasn’t just standing—she was radiating something, something intense, something barely held together. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, like she had run here, like nothing in the world could have stopped her from coming.

Niran’s eyes flickered between Orm and Ling, his brows raising slightly. He could feel it—the weight of something unspoken, something aching to be said.

“Right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was actually about to head out.”

Ling blinked, still caught off guard by Orm’s sudden appearance. “Niran—”

But he was already grabbing his jacket, throwing them both a knowing look. “I’ll be at a friend’s tonight. Don’t burn the place down.”

Ling barely had time to react before he was brushing past Orm, tossing one last glance over his shoulder. His expression softened for just a second, as if telling her this is it, don’t run now, before he disappeared down the hall.

And just like that, they were alone.

Orm barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut behind Niran.

Her heart was pounding, her body moving before her mind could catch up. She had been running—not just to get here, but from everything she had never dared to say aloud. And now, faced with Ling, with the reality of everything they had lost, everything they had left unsaid, she couldn’t run anymore.

Ling stood frozen, her fingers still curled from where they had held onto Niran’s sleeve moments before, as if she was only now processing that they were truly alone. Her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her dark eyes locked onto Orm’s, wide, searching, full of something Orm couldn’t name—but felt.

She looked so real standing there, so breathtakingly, achingly real, and Orm needed to touch her, needed to ground herself in the warmth of her, needed to know this wasn’t some cruel dream.

Her hands moved before she could stop them.

Fingertips grazing Ling’s cheeks. Thumbs tracing over soft skin. A touch so familiar, so natural, as if it had never left them.

Ling inhaled sharply at the contact, but she didn’t pull away.

She couldn’t. Not now. Not when every part of her recognized Orm’s touch.

Not when the memories had finally come back.

“I should’ve told you before,” Orm whispered, voice rough, raw.

Ling swallowed, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Told me what?”

Orm exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Everything. Before the accident. Before everything fell apart. I should’ve told you then—when I had the chance.” Her voice broke slightly, and she forced herself to push through it. “But I was a coward.”

Ling’s fingers lifted—hesitant, uncertain—before finally resting lightly over Orm’s wrists, as if testing the weight of this moment, as if trying to hold it in place.

Orm took a slow, unsteady breath.

“I love you. I am in love with you Lingling Kwong”

Ling’s breath caught.

The words crashed into the space between them, heavy, unshakable, irrevocable.

Orm’s chest felt tight, her pulse hammering, her grip trembling against Ling’s skin. “I was going to tell you. I was finally going to stop pretending, stop hiding, stop running from what I already knew.” She exhaled, her fingers curling slightly. “But then I got scared. I thought maybe I was the only one who felt this way. That if I said it out loud, I’d ruin everything. That I’d lose you”

Ling’s fingers tightened around Orm’s wrists, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.

Orm’s breath was uneven now, but she couldn’t stop.

“I can’t make that mistake again,” she whispered, her forehead resting lightly against Ling’s, their breaths mingling, their warmth bleeding into each other. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care if you remember us fully or not. I just need you to know that I love you. I have always loved you. And I will never stop.”

Ling squeezed her eyes shut, her grip tightening, as if the weight of Orm’s words was too much, as if something deep inside her had snapped.

Because she did remember. She remembered everything.

She could see it so clearly now—the late-night rehearsals, the way Orm’s eyes softened when they were alone, the quiet moments between scenes, the stolen glances when they thought no one was looking.

The way she had felt for Orm. The way she had loved her.

And the way she had thrown it all away out of fear.

Her throat tightened painfully, guilt swelling in her chest.

Orm had been there—all this time, loving her, waiting for her, and Ling had run.

She had pushed Orm away, had convinced herself that keeping her distance was for the best, that her feelings were too dangerous, that loving Orm openly would put her in harm’s way.

And in doing so—she had hurt them both. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not now. Not when Orm was here. Not when Orm was still holding on.

Ling opened her eyes, and when she met Orm’s gaze, she let herself feel it.

She let herself fall into the truth of it.

She loved Orm. She had always loved Orm.

And she couldn’t lose her again.

“Orm…” her voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

Orm’s breath was unsteady, her heart a wild, chaotic rhythm against her ribs. Ling was here—warm, real, hers—and she wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t running.

Ling’s fingers curled into the fabric of Orm’s shirt, gripping like an anchor, like she needed this, needed her just as much.

Orm exhaled shakily, forehead still resting against Ling’s, their breaths mingling, the space between them vanishing second by second.

She didn’t think. She couldn’t.

Her hands, still cradling Ling’s face, tilted her chin slightly upward, her thumbs brushing over the soft skin of her cheeks as if memorizing every inch of her.

Ling inhaled sharply, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—something raw, something aching.

And then—

Orm leaned in.

Soft. Slow. Certain.

Her lips brushed against Ling’s like a whisper, like a question she already knew the answer to.

Ling broke apart beneath her touch, a quiet gasp slipping past her lips as her fingers tightened around Orm’s waist, as if holding onto her was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Orm almost pulled back—almost gave Ling the space to stop this, to push her away—

But then—

Ling kissed her back.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was slow, deliberate, like rediscovering something long lost, something precious, something Ling never wanted to forget again.

Orm felt it in the way Ling’s hands slipped up her back, circling her waist, pulling her closer, as if clinging to the very thing she had been searching for all this time.

Orm sank into it, into her, into everything they had been too afraid to claim before.

And just when she thought she couldn’t fall any deeper—

Ling pulled back only slightly, just enough to breathe, just enough to press her forehead against Orm’s, her fingers tracing along the curve of Orm’s spine, memorizing.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it shattered everything.

"I remember baby."

Orm froze.

Ling held on tighter.

And in that moment—

Nothing else mattered and they kissed again, forgetting for once all the danger around them.

.