Danger ⚠️

The moment their feet touched Parisian soil at Charles de Gaulle, a tangible hum of anticipation vibrated between Orm and Ling. Their hands, intertwined like vines, were a silent testament to the love that had brought them to this city of whispered promises. Paris, the very embodiment of romance, awaited, and their hearts beat in unison with its timeless rhythm.

"It feels like a dream," Orm breathed, her voice a soft flutter against the bustling airport sounds, as they navigated customs.

Ling's smile, warm and radiant, squeezed Orm's hand. "A dream come true, my love. Paris is our canvas for the next two weeks."

The taxi, a sleek black chariot, whisked them through the city, a blur of charming facades and iconic landmarks. Orm and Ling, their eyes wide with wonder, drank in the sights, their fingers tracing patterns on each other's palms, a silent language of affection.

Their hotel, a hidden gem nestled in the Marais, exuded an intimate charm. The concierge, his eyes twinkling with knowing delight, welcomed them with a flourish, his words a benediction upon their honeymoon. They ascended to their suite, the air thick with the promise of stolen moments.

The room opened to reveal a breathtaking panorama, the Eiffel Tower, a beacon of romance, piercing the twilight sky. Orm gasped, her breath catching in her throat. "Ling, it's…magnificent," she whispered, pulling Ling close to the window.

Ling's arms enveloped Orm, her chin resting gently on her shoulder. "Yes, it is," she murmured, her voice a low, husky caress. "But you, my love, are the true masterpiece."

Orm turned, her eyes locking with Ling's, a blush warming her cheeks. "You always know how to make me feel like a queen," she sighed, her voice laced with adoration.

Ling's hands slid down to Orm's waist, pulling her flush against her. "Because you are my queen," she whispered, her voice a low growl. Her lips found Orm's, a tender exploration that quickly deepened into a passionate embrace, their bodies molding together like two halves of a whole.

The world outside faded as they moved, a slow, sensual dance, towards the waiting embrace of the plush bed. Their hands explored, rediscovered, and worshipped, tracing the familiar landscapes of each other's bodies. The city's symphony faded into the background, replaced by the soft sighs and whispered affirmations of their love. Ling's touch, both reverent and demanding, ignited a fire within Orm. Her breath hitched as Ling's fingers traced the delicate curve of her hip, dipping lower to tease and tantalize. A soft moan escaped her lips, a sound of pure surrender.

"Ling," she breathed, her voice a plea, her body trembling with anticipation. "I need you."

A mischievous glint sparkled in Ling's eyes. "Patience, my love," she murmured, her voice a silken promise. "We have an eternity to explore."

With a slow, deliberate grace, Ling began to undress Orm, her eyes burning with a passionate intensity. Each touch, each caress, was a love letter written on Orm's skin, a testament to the depth of their desire. The world outside their window ceased to exist. Only the shared heat between them, the whispered promises, and the intoxicating rhythm of their love filled the room. Ling's mouth and hands moved with practiced expertise, building a crescendo of pleasure, each touch a spark igniting a wildfire of sensation. The city of love could wait; their love was a universe unto itself.

They found themselves drawn to the Seine, its gentle flow reflecting the soft morning light. They strolled along the quays, the iconic silhouette of Notre Dame rising majestically in the distance. Ling plucked a single red rose from a vendor's cart, its velvety petals a perfect reflection of Orm's flushed cheeks. She tucked it behind Orm's ear, a silent poem of admiration.

"Just like a painting," Ling murmured, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of Orm's jaw.

Orm leaned into Ling's touch, her heart overflowing with a quiet joy. "Only better," she whispered, her gaze meeting Ling's.

They crossed the Pont des Arts, the love locks shimmering in the sunlight, a testament to countless romances. Ling pulled a small, engraved padlock from her pocket, a surprise for Orm. With trembling fingers, they clasped it to the bridge, their initials intertwined, a symbol of their eternal bond. They tossed the key into the Seine, their laughter mingling with the gentle rush of the river.

The afternoon found them lost in the labyrinthine streets of the Latin Quarter, browsing through quaint bookshops and antique stores. They discovered a hidden courtyard, a secret garden filled with blooming jasmine and the soft murmur of a fountain. They sat on a weathered stone bench, their bodies pressed close, sharing whispered secrets and tender kisses.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the city, they found themselves on the steps of Sacré-Cœur, overlooking the sprawling cityscape. Paris, in all its splendor, lay before them, a breathtaking panorama of romance.

"This is perfect," Orm sighed, her head resting on Ling's shoulder.

Ling wrapped her arms tighter around Orm, her lips brushing against her hair. "Perfect because you're here," she whispered, her voice filled with unwavering devotion.

They watched as the city lights began to twinkle, transforming Paris into a magical wonderland. The Eiffel Tower, bathed in its golden glow, sparkled like a beacon of love.

They descended the steps, hand in hand, their hearts full of the day's shared moments. The city was alive with the promise of the night, but for Orm and Ling, the world had shrunk to the space between their intertwined fingers, the warmth of their shared glances, and the silent promise of a love that would last forever. They were two souls, lost in the magic of Paris, their honeymoon a dream woven with the threads of their unwavering love.

The rooftop restaurant, a hidden oasis above the Parisian bustle, shimmered with soft candlelight. Orm and Ling, nestled in a corner table overlooking the city’s twinkling expanse, held hands across the crisp white tablecloth, their eyes reflecting the warm glow of the evening.

"This view," Orm breathed, her gaze sweeping across the panorama of illuminated rooftops and the distant, majestic Eiffel Tower, "it's like something out of a dream."

Ling smiled, her eyes never leaving Orm's face. "Every moment with you feels like a dream," she murmured, her voice a low, intimate caress. "Especially here, with you, in Paris."

A waiter, his demeanor discreet and attentive, poured them glasses of champagne, the bubbles dancing like tiny stars in the golden liquid.

"To us," Ling said, raising her glass, her eyes sparkling.

"To us," Orm echoed, her heart swelling with love. They clinked glasses, the delicate sound echoing softly in the romantic ambiance.

"What's your favorite part of Paris so far?" Ling asked, leaning forward, her voice a gentle whisper.

Orm paused, her gaze drifting towards the Seine, its shimmering surface reflecting the city lights. "Everywhere we've been feels special," she said thoughtfully, "but I think… it's the little moments. The way the light catches your hair in the morning, the way you hold my hand when we're lost in a crowd, the way you look at me like I'm the only person in the world."

Ling's hand tightened around Orm's, her thumb gently tracing the delicate skin of her wrist. "You are the only person in my world," she said, her voice filled with unwavering sincerity. "And my favorite part is seeing you happy. Seeing you experience all this, the way your eyes light up with wonder. It makes me fall in love with you all over again."

A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. They savored the exquisite meal, each bite a symphony of flavors, a perfect complement to the romantic atmosphere.

"Remember that little bookstore we found in the Latin Quarter?" Orm asked, a playful smile gracing her lips. "The one with the dusty old volumes and the cat sleeping in the window?"

Ling chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "How could I forget? You spent half an hour debating whether to buy that ancient copy of 'Romeo and Juliet.'"

"It was a first edition!" Orm protested, feigning indignation. "And besides, it reminded me of us."

"Romeo and Juliet?" Ling raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. "A tragic love story?"

"No," Orm said, her voice soft and sincere, "the passionate, undeniable love. The way they were drawn to each other, like magnets. That's us."

Ling's expression softened, her eyes filled with tenderness. "You're right," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We're a love story for the ages."

They finished their champagne, the last drops sparkling in the candlelight. The city lights twinkled below, a sea of glittering stars, but for Orm and Ling, the brightest stars were in each other's eyes.

"Shall we dance?" Ling asked, extending her hand.

Orm smiled, her heart overflowing with love. "I'd love to."

They rose from their table, their hands intertwined, and moved to the small dance floor, swaying to the soft music, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The night was theirs, a perfect moment in a perfect honeymoon, a memory etched in their hearts forever.

After their enchanting dinner, the city of Paris still called to them, whispering sweet invitations through its glowing streets. Hand in hand, Orm and Ling descended onto the quiet avenues, the warmth of their shared meal still lingering, the champagne adding a soft haze of bliss to the evening.

Paris at night was a different kind of magic—a symphony of golden lights and hushed conversations. Lovers strolled along the Seine, the gentle murmur of water against the stone embankments weaving seamlessly with the melodies of street musicians. The air was cool, tinged with the faint aroma of freshly baked pastries from a nearby patisserie.

Orm squeezed Ling’s hand. “Can we stay here forever?”

Ling chuckled, tugging Orm closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her temple. “Tempting, baby. But I think our families would come hunt us down.”

Orm pouted. “Worth it.”

Ling rolled her eyes playfully before stopping at a corner café. “Hot chocolate?”

Orm’s face lit up. “You know me too well.”

They settled at a small bistro table, their knees touching beneath the iron surface as they sipped from steaming mugs of rich, velvety cocoa. Orm moaned dramatically after the first sip. “This is heaven.”

Ling watched her with soft amusement, resting her chin in her hand. “I swear, I could just sit here and watch you be happy for the rest of my life.”

Orm nearly choked on her drink, cheeks burning. “Baby.”

Ling only smirked. “What? It’s true.”

Orm sighed, dramatically resting her forehead against the table. “Marrying you was a mistake.”

Ling leaned in, her lips grazing Orm’s ear. “Too late, my love. You’re mine now.”

Orm shivered, her hand clutching the fabric of Ling’s coat. “Unfair.”

Ling grinned, dropping a kiss to Orm’s cheek before sitting back. “Come on, my love. Let’s see Paris in all its midnight glory.”

_________

It wasn’t exactly planned, but somehow, they found themselves outside the Louvre, its grand glass pyramid shimmering under the moonlight. The museum was closed, but that didn’t stop Orm from pressing her face against the bars of the gate, staring in awe at the illuminated structure.

“I wish we could go inside,” Orm sighed.

Ling smirked. “Who says we can’t?”

Orm turned to her, suspicious. “Baby.”

Ling took out her phone, typing something quickly before flashing Orm a mischievous grin. “P’Dew knows people.”

Before Orm could fully process what was happening, a security guard approached the gate, unlocked it, and gestured for them to follow.

“Are you serious?” Orm whispered in shock as they stepped inside.

Ling shrugged, smirking. “You wanted to see it. So, let’s see it.”

They were led into the museum’s grand halls, the absence of tourists making everything feel surreal. It was just them and the greatest masterpieces of the world.

Orm twirled in the vast, open space of the Galerie d’Apollon, her laughter echoing softly against the gilded ceilings. “I feel like royalty.”

Ling leaned against a column, watching her with open adoration. “You are.”

They wandered through the halls, taking their time with each exhibit until they stood before the Mona Lisa.

Ling draped her arm around Orm’s waist. “So? Worth it?”

Orm exhaled softly, eyes locked on the famous painting. “So worth it.”

Ling tilted her head. “Do you think she’s smiling because she knows we’re in love?”

Orm snorted. “Baby, that is the most ridiculous thing—”

Ling leaned in, voice teasing. “She’s approving of us.”

Orm laughed, pulling Ling into a hug. “You’re impossible.”

Ling chuckled, nuzzling into her neck. “You love me.”

Orm sighed, smiling. “I really do.”

As the early morning light began to creep over the horizon, they made their way back to their hotel. But Ling had one last surprise.

“Baby,” Orm whined. “We haven’t slept.”

Ling smirked, tugging her down a quiet street. “One last thing.”

When they arrived at Champ de Mars, the open field leading to the Eiffel Tower, the sky had turned a soft shade of pink and gold. The city was still half-asleep, the usual crowds nowhere in sight.

Orm’s breath caught. “It’s… it’s empty.”

Ling took her hands. “Just for us.”

The sun began to rise, casting a golden hue over the iron lattice of the Eiffel Tower. Orm stood in silent awe, soaking in the moment.

Ling stepped behind her, wrapping her arms around Orm’s waist. “What’s running through that pretty head of yours?”

Orm swallowed. “I can’t believe this is real. That we’re here. That I get to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.”

Ling pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Believe it, baby. I’m your wife now and I’ll wouldn’t change it for the world”

They turned to face each other, their foreheads touching, their fingers laced.

“Best honeymoon ever?” Ling teased.

Orm grinned. “Best honeymoon ever.”

Ling tilted her head. “Do you know what would make it better?”

Orm raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Ling reached into her coat pocket, pulling out two plane tickets.

Orm frowned. “What is this?”

Ling smirked. “A week in Nice. Just you, me, and the French Riviera. We’ll spend our last days over there before going back to Bangkok”

Orm’s mouth fell open. “LING.”

Ling grinned. “I told you, baby. Only the best for my wife.”

Orm launched herself at Ling, nearly knocking them both over. “I LOVE YOU.”

Ling chuckled, holding her tightly. “I love you more.”

And as the sun continued to rise, painting Paris in soft gold, they stood there—two souls intertwined, hearts forever bound.

Their honeymoon had only just begun.

_________

The golden sunrise bathed the city in soft hues, marking the end of their sleepless yet magical night. Hand in hand, Orm and Ling returned to their hotel, their steps slower, savoring the intimacy of the early morning silence.

Their suite welcomed them with its warm embrace, the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the Eiffel Tower in all its morning glory. Ling turned to Orm, her gaze melting with tenderness.

“We should sleep,” Orm murmured, but she made no move to let go of Ling’s hand.

Ling smiled, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Orm’s ear. “We should,” she agreed, though her eyes betrayed no intention of letting the night—no, their honeymoon magic—end just yet.

Instead, Ling guided Orm toward the bed, her hands resting gently on her wife’s waist, drawing her close. The soft silk of Orm’s dress from the night before still clung to her form, her tired yet radiant beauty making Ling’s heart swell with overwhelming adoration.

“You’re staring,” Orm teased, though her voice was nothing but fond.

Ling didn’t deny it. “I can’t help it,” she whispered, her fingers brushing along Orm’s jaw, tracing the delicate curve of her lips. “You’re breathtaking.”

Orm’s cheeks flushed, a soft pink that made Ling’s stomach tighten with love. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mrs. Kornnaphat.”

Ling hummed. “Say that again.”

Orm’s lips curled. “Mrs. Kornnaphat.”

Ling’s breath caught. “Again.”

Orm laughed, wrapping her arms around Ling’s neck. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her lips brushing Ling’s in the lightest of kisses. “And I’m yours.”

Ling’s hands trailed down Orm’s back, holding her closer, like she never wanted to let go. “Forever?”

Orm leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Forever,” she whispered, sealing her vow with another soft kiss.

Ling exhaled shakily, pulling Orm with her as they fell onto the bed, their bodies molding perfectly into each other. The sheets were cool against their warm skin, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to them.

They lay there, face to face, their noses almost touching, their fingers lazily tracing over wedding rings, as if still trying to convince themselves that this wasn’t a dream.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” Orm murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ling smiled, her thumb rubbing slow circles against Orm’s hip. “Believe it, baby. You’re stuck with me now.”

Orm sighed dramatically, though the sheer happiness in her eyes betrayed her. “Damn. I guess I really have no choice.”

Ling grinned, rolling on top of her, pinning her gently against the mattress. “Nope.”

Orm laughed softly, running her fingers through Ling’s hair, letting them tangle and tug just slightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

Ling’s heart squeezed. “You already do.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of their love filling every space in the room.

“I love you,” Ling whispered, pressing soft kisses along Orm’s jaw, down to her collarbone.

Orm shivered beneath her, smiling as she cupped Ling’s face, pulling her back up. “I love you more.”

Ling scoffed playfully. “Impossible.”

Orm chuckled, her voice dripping with love. “You know, the first time I ever told myself I loved you, I was terrified.”

Ling lifted her head slightly, looking at her with soft curiosity. “Yeah?”

Orm nodded, brushing her fingers over Ling’s lips. “I was so scared of how much I felt for you. It was too big, too real. I didn’t know if you’d ever feel the same.”

Ling kissed the tip of Orm’s nose. “I think I loved you even before I knew what love really was.”

Orm exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “We were so stupid back then.”

Ling smirked. “So much wasted time.”

Orm’s fingers tightened around Ling’s. “But we made it.”

Ling’s expression softened. “Yeah. We did.”

Another kiss, slow and lingering.

Orm hummed, her voice thick with sleep. “Marrying you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Ling smiled against her skin. “Marrying you was the easiest decision I’ve ever made.”

Orm’s eyelids fluttered. “You make me so happy.”

Ling’s heart melted. She cupped Orm’s face, brushing her lips over her cheek, over her eyelids as they closed.

“You’re my happiness, baby,” Ling whispered. “Now sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Orm smiled, a blissful sigh escaping her lips. “Promise?”

Ling kissed her wedding ring. “Promise.”

As Orm drifted off, Ling stayed awake just a little longer, watching the steady rise and fall of her wife’s breathing, engraving this moment into her soul.

They were here. Married. In Paris. Wrapped in love so deep, so consuming, that it felt like the only thing that ever mattered.

Ling sighed, pressing a final kiss to Orm’s temple before closing her own eyes and circling her wife’s waist and bring her closer to her. Their forever had only just begun.

_____________

Nice, French Riviera

The waves crashed gently against the shore, their soft, rhythmic lull blending with the distant sound of laughter and the chatter of a sun-kissed afternoon. The French Riviera stretched endlessly before them, its turquoise waters shimmering under the golden sun.

Ling and Orm stood at the edge of the beach in Nice, their feet sinking into the warm sand as the sea breeze played with their hair. It was their last day here—the final chapter of their honeymoon before returning to the world as newlyweds.

Orm sighed, squeezing Ling’s hand. “I don’t want to leave.”

Ling smirked, tugging Orm closer, her arms wrapping around her waist. “Then let’s never leave.”

Orm chuckled, resting her head against Ling’s shoulder. “Tempting. But I’m pretty sure our jobs might have something to say about that. And I’m not even talking about our mothers who would be heartbroken”

Ling hummed, her fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over Orm’s back. “Jobs. Reality. Responsibilities.” She leaned down, brushing her lips over Orm’s temple. “I like it here better. Just you and me.”

Orm smiled, tilting her face up to meet Ling’s eyes. “Me too.”

The breeze carried the scent of salt and lavender, mixing with the faint aroma of vanilla sunscreen lingering on Orm’s skin. The sight of her wife, glowing under the sun, her skin golden and warm, took Ling’s breath away.

“You’re beautiful,” Ling murmured, her fingers sliding down Orm’s arms, lacing their fingers together.

Orm’s lips quirked. “I know.”

Ling rolled her eyes, laughing. “Cocky.”

Orm shrugged. “Can’t help it. I married a woman who tells me I’m beautiful every five minutes.”

Ling leaned in, their noses brushing. “Because you are.”

Orm blushed, pressing a quick kiss to Ling’s lips before pulling away. “Come on, my love. Let’s make the most of today.”

They spent their last afternoon strolling along the Promenade des Anglais, stopping at little cafés and boutiques. Orm had insisted on getting matching sunglasses, declaring them the "coolest married couple on the Riviera." Ling had simply laughed and gone along with it, because how could she ever say no to Orm?

At a seaside restaurant, they dined on fresh seafood and crisp rosé, Orm stealing bites from Ling’s plate despite having her own generous portion. Ling merely shook her head, amused at how some things never changed.

“Babe,” Orm mumbled between bites of Niçoise salad, “I think we should buy a house here.”

Ling raised an eyebrow. “A house?”

Orm nodded seriously. “Yeah. A little villa by the sea. We could escape here whenever life gets too crazy.”

Ling smirked, sipping her wine. “Orm Kornnaphat, are you suggesting we live out a romantic French fantasy?”

Orm grinned. “Absolutely.”

Ling chuckled, taking Orm’s hand across the table. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you married me.”

Ling’s heart swelled. “Yeah. Best decision I’ve ever made. We’ll see what we can do for this brilliant idea baby”

________

The French Riviera had been a dream—days of sun, love, and stolen kisses under the endless blue sky. Their honeymoon was winding down, but neither Ling nor Orm wanted to think about leaving just yet.

The day had been perfect so far—morning coffee on the hotel balcony, exploring the old town, and indulging in pastries that were almost too beautiful to eat. But, of course, nothing was ever completely smooth sailing.

The midday sun hung high in the sky as Orm lay back on their beach towel, soaking up the warmth. Dressed in a white bikini, sunglasses perched on her nose, she admired the sight before her—Ling, glistening under the sunlight as she emerged from the water.

Ling was breathtaking. Saltwater dripped from her toned body, running down the sculpted lines of her abs like a divine masterpiece carved by the gods themselves. Her wet hair clung to her neck, and when she shook her head, droplets flew around her like a slow-motion movie scene.

Orm licked her lips, already planning how she was going to pull Ling down onto the towel and kiss every single water droplet off her skin.

But before she could act on it, someone beat her to it.

A tall, tan French guy—shirtless, sculpted, with dark hair and entirely too much confidence—walked right up to Ling, his eyes shamelessly raking over her abs.

Orm sat up immediately, sunglasses sliding down her nose as she narrowed her eyes.

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle,” the guy purred, his accent thick and undeniably flirtatious. "You are... magnifique. Truly a vision. I have never seen such a perfect body in my life."

Ling, caught slightly off guard, blinked at him. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

Orm's jaw clenched.

"Your muscles, your six-pack," the guy continued, gesturing to Ling’s stomach. "You are an athlete, no? Or perhaps… a goddess?"

Ling chuckled awkwardly. "Something like that."

Orm was seeing red.

The French idiot wasn’t done. "Perhaps, while you are here in Nice, I could show you around? I know the best spots—"

“She’s taken.”

Orm’s voice was sharp, her Thai accent slicing through the air like a blade. She was on her feet in seconds, stepping between Ling and the guy, eyes blazing.

The Frenchman’s brows lifted, finally acknowledging Orm, who stood there in nothing but her bikini, hands on her hips, looking every bit like a queen ready to destroy.

"Ah, I see," he said, smirking. "You are with her?"

Orm grabbed Ling’s waist possessively, pulling her in close. “She’s my wife.”

The words came out clear, forceful, and absolutely final.

Ling, who had been amused up until now, shivered at the way Orm said it. There was something about being claimed so boldly that sent warmth curling in her stomach.

The guy raised his hands, clearly getting the message. "D'accord, d'accord! My apologies. Pardon" He shot one last glance at Ling and smirked. "Your wife is very lucky."

Orm’s glare could have set him on fire.

He walked away, and the moment he was out of sight, Ling burst into laughter.

“Oh my God, Orm—”

"Are you kidding me?!" Orm huffed, crossing her arms. "What was that? He was undressing you with his eyes!"

Ling, still laughing, wrapped her arms around Orm’s waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Baby, you’re so cute when you’re jealous."

Orm scowled. “I am not cute. I am furious.”

Ling grinned. “Adorable.”

Orm groaned. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”

Ling smirked. “A little.”

Orm pouted, but Ling silenced her with a slow, deep kiss, pulling her close until their bodies pressed together, salt-kissed skin against salt-kissed skin.

"You’re the only one I see, my love," Ling whispered against Orm's lips.

Orm sighed, melting instantly. “Fine. But I swear, if one more French guy flirts with you—”

Ling chuckled, threading her fingers through Orm’s damp hair. “Then you’ll have to remind them who I belong to.”

Orm smirked. “Gladly.”

Later that evening, after watching the sunset, they decided to have drinks at a small, charming beachside bar. It was the perfect way to unwind—just the two of them, basking in the afterglow of their incredible honeymoon.

Orm sat at the bar while Ling excused herself to the restroom.

The second Ling was out of sight, trouble arrived.

A French woman, tall, curvy, with dark red lips and a sultry gaze, slid into the seat next to Orm.

"Bonsoir, belle inconnue," she purred, stirring her drink lazily. "Alone tonight?"

Orm, instantly annoyed, turned to face her, arching an eyebrow. "No."

The woman smirked, tilting her head. "Oh, but where is your company?"

Orm took a slow sip of her cocktail. "My wife is in the restroom."

The woman’s eyes widened slightly before she smirked, undeterred. "Married, hmm? That is… interesting." She leaned in, her fingers toying with the rim of her glass. "But are you happily married?"

Orm’s grip tightened around her drink.

Before she could deliver a scathing reply, a strong, familiar arm wrapped around her waist.

"Oh, she’s very happily married."

Ling’s voice was low, dangerously calm—a warning disguised as a purr.

The French woman turned, her smirk faltering as she met Ling’s sharp, unwavering gaze.

"Ah," she said, chuckling. "So this is the wife?"

Ling leaned in, brushing a slow, possessive kiss against Orm’s temple, her fingers tightening around Orm’s waist.

"Yes," she murmured, her lips grazing Orm’s ear as she spoke. "And I don’t share."

The French woman got the message. She raised her hands in surrender, offering a half-smile. "D’accord, d’accord. Bonne soirée."

She slid off the stool, disappearing into the crowd.

Ling turned to Orm, her gaze dark with territorial satisfaction. “Are you okay, my love?”

Orm exhaled. “Baby, I love when you get possessive.”

Ling smirked. “You better love it.”

Orm laughed, wrapping her arms around Ling’s neck. “Okay, you win. I’ll stop teasing you about being jealous.”

Ling chuckled, pulling her in for a slow, deep kiss. “Good. Because you’re mine.”

Orm melted.

"Always," she whispered.

Ling smirked. “Damn right.”

And with that, their night continued—with only each other on their minds.

_______

The flight back to Bangkok was smooth, but neither Ling nor Orm wanted to admit that their honeymoon had officially come to an end. Two weeks in Paris and the French Riviera had been nothing short of magical—a dream woven into reality. They had spent every moment wrapped in each other’s love, indulging in the romance of France, whispering sweet nothings, and making memories that would last a lifetime.

As soon as they landed, their private van was already waiting for them, sleek and polished, the driver bowing respectfully as he took their luggage.

Orm stretched, yawning as they stepped into the luxurious interior. “Baby, I’m so tired.”

Ling smirked, buckling in next to her. “Well, we barely got any sleep these past two weeks.”

Orm arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Whose fault is that?”

Ling chuckled, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to Orm’s shoulder. “Yours. You keep tempting me.”

Orm huffed, but her cheeks flushed, betraying her. “Whatever. Let’s just get home.”

Home. That word carried a different weight now. Not her condo. Not Ling’s penthouse. Their home. The new house they had bought after the wedding, waiting for them like a promise of forever.

The entire reason they had extended their honeymoon.

While they were away, the house had been fully furnished, decorated to their liking, a perfect sanctuary for their life together.

Ling turned to Orm, watching the soft smile playing on her lips as she gazed out the window. She reached for Orm’s hand, threading their fingers together. “Are you excited?”

Orm squeezed her hand. “Yeah. It’s gonna feel even more real now, huh? Us. Married. In our house.”

Ling’s chest warmed. “It’s always been real, love.”

Orm turned to her, her eyes shining with something Ling had come to know intimately—devotion.

She lifted Ling’s hand, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I love you.”

Ling smiled, leaning in, her forehead resting against Orm’s. “I love you more.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, peaceful, their fingers intertwined as they watched the city lights of Bangkok pass by.

Then, the car pulled into a quiet, gated neighborhood—their neighborhood.

Their home.

As the gates slid open, the van rolled down a smooth driveway leading to a stunning modern house—minimalist architecture, large glass panels, surrounded by lush greenery, a garden Ling had insisted on.

Orm’s breath hitched as she took it all in.

Ling smiled, nudging her gently. “Welcome home, Mrs. Kornnaphat Kwong.”

Orm turned, eyes soft and full of love. “Say that again.”

Ling smirked, brushing a kiss against Orm’s jaw. “Welcome home, Mrs. Kornnaphat Kwong.”

Orm shivered. “God, I love you. And I love your name next to mine”

The driver opened the doors, retrieving their luggage, but Ling and Orm didn’t move immediately.

They just sat there, taking in the sight before them.

Their first home together.

A place where they’d wake up in each other’s arms every morning. Where they’d fight, laugh, cook, celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Where they’d build their future.

Ling turned to Orm, voice soft. “Are you ready?”

Orm took a deep breath. Then, she smiled.

“With you? Always.”

Hand in hand, they stepped out of the car and into their forever.

The moment Ling shut the bedroom door behind them, an electric tension settled in the air. It wasn’t the nervous, hesitant kind—no, this was different. It was heavy with meaning, thick with the weight of everything this moment represented.

Their first night. In their home. As wives.

Orm stood by the bed, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. She turned slowly, her gaze locked onto Ling, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the words never came.

Because Ling was already closing the distance. With deliberate slowness, Ling reached for Orm’s hand, her fingers skimming along Orm’s wrist before intertwining with hers. Orm exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

“Baby,” Orm whispered, her voice almost lost in the quiet.

Ling cupped Orm’s jaw, tilting her face up slightly so their eyes met. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” she murmured, her thumb tracing slow circles against Orm’s cheek.

Orm swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest.

Ling leaned in, pressing a kiss to Orm’s lips—soft, lingering, teasing. She didn’t deepen it, not yet. She wanted to savor this.

Wanted to take her time.

Orm sighed into the kiss, her body melting into Ling’s touch. But when she went to pull Ling closer, Ling’s hands pressed gently against Orm’s hips, stopping her.

Orm frowned slightly, a question in her eyes.

Ling smirked. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Orm’s breath hitched.

Ling let her hands drift lower, skimming over the fabric of Orm’s blouse, her fingers expertly undoing the buttons one by one. Each touch was deliberate, slow, driving Orm insane.

She wasn’t rushing. She wanted Orm to feel every single second.

As the last button slipped free, Ling let the blouse fall open, exposing smooth, warm skin. She traced the curve of Orm’s collarbone, dipping lower, letting her lips follow the path of her fingers.

Orm’s head fell back slightly, her hands gripping Ling’s shoulders. “Ling… baby…” she murmured.

Ling grinned against her skin. “I know, baby. Just let me love you.”

She pushed the blouse off Orm’s shoulders, letting it slip to the floor. Then, Ling’s fingers went to the clasp of Orm’s bra, undoing it with practiced ease.

Orm shivered as Ling’s lips ghosted over the newly exposed skin, barely touching her but setting her entire body on fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” Ling whispered, her hands trailing down Orm’s sides, mapping the curves she already knew by heart.

Orm let out a shaky breath. “You say that like you’ve never seen me before.”

Ling’s eyes darkened with something deeper, something intense. “Not like this.”

Not here. Not as my wife in our home.

Ling guided Orm back until the bed met the backs of her knees. Orm sat down, her legs slightly parted, her breathing unsteady. Ling stood between them, gazing down at her like she was the most precious thing she had ever touched.

Then, Ling moved.

She reached for the hem of her own shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion, revealing smooth skin, toned muscles, and the body Orm had traced with her hands a million times before—but tonight, it felt different.

Orm let out a soft, shaky laugh, her fingers ghosting over Ling’s abs. “Damn, I really married the hottest woman in Thailand, huh?”

Ling smirked, grabbing Orm’s chin gently. “Correction, baby. You married the woman who’s about to make you forget your own name.”

Orm didn’t have time to process that promise before Ling pushed her down onto the bed.

Her breath left her lungs in a sharp exhale, but she didn’t care.

Because Ling was on top of her, hovering, teasing, pressing soft, hot kisses along her jaw, down her throat, over the swell of her chest.

Orm arched beneath her.

“Ling…”

Ling smirked against Orm’s skin. “I know baby.”

Orm groaned, gripping Ling’s waist, her nails digging into her toned sides. “You’re killing me.”

Ling chuckled, her breath warm against Orm’s skin. “Not yet, baby. But I plan to.”

And then, she did. That night, they rediscovered each other.

No distractions. No worries. No interruptions.

Just them.

Just their love, their passion, their home, their forever.

And when the world faded around them, when their bodies finally came down from the high of love and whispered confessions, Ling wrapped herself around Orm, holding her like she was afraid to let go.

Orm traced slow, lazy circles on Ling’s back, their legs tangled under the sheets.

The night air was cool through the open window, but they were warm.

Always warm together.

Orm sighed, pressing a soft kiss to Ling’s forehead. “I love you.”

Ling smiled against Orm’s collarbone. “I love you more.”

A pause.

Then, Ling whispered, her voice barely a breath:

“Forever.”

Orm’s heart clenched. She held Ling a little tighter, closing her eyes, feeling completely at peace.

And just before sleep claimed them, Orm whispered back—

“Forever and always wifey.”