Danger ⚠️

The morning after their ultrasound appointment, Ling and Orm sat together in their sunlit living room, hands intertwined, still basking in the overwhelming joy of their discovery. The world outside might have felt uncertain, dangerous even, but right now, in their little bubble, all that mattered was the soft, rhythmic flutter of two heartbeats inside Ling’s belly.

Orm couldn’t stop touching her, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along the slight curve of Ling’s stomach, as if trying to memorize every inch of the life growing within her.

“Two, Ling,” Orm whispered again, shaking her head in awe. “We’re having two babies.”

Ling chuckled softly, leaning her head against Orm’s shoulder, warmth filling her chest at the childlike wonder in her wife’s voice. “I know, love,” she murmured, bringing Orm’s hand to her lips for a gentle kiss. “Are you going to keep saying it every five minutes?”

“Yes,” Orm admitted shamelessly, her eyes twinkling. “For the rest of my life.”

Ling laughed, brushing her fingers through Orm’s dark hair, knowing full well her wife was still processing it all.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Orm straightened, eyes widening. “We have to tell everyone,” she said urgently.

Ling’s lips twitched in amusement. “Well, we do have a family brunch today.”

“You think we should wait that long?” Orm groaned, already itching to spill the news. “I don’t think I can hold it in.”

Ling chuckled, shaking her head. “Then let’s not.”

And just like that, Orm was on her feet, reaching for her phone t.

_____

The cozy dining room of Papa Oct and Mae Koy’s home was filled with the delicious scent of freshly baked pastries and warm tea. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the breakfast table, where everyone had already gathered.

Papa Oct sat at the head of the table, casually sipping his coffee, while Mae Koy fussed over the food. Across from them, Ling’s parents, Khun Chai and Madam Liu, chatted warmly with Mae about an old recipe, while Niran leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

It was the perfect setting—intimate, familiar, safe.

Orm held Ling’s hand beneath the table, squeezing it gently, her heart racing. She had faced cameras, stage lights, even life-threatening situations, but nothing compared to the nerves she felt at this moment.

Finally, she cleared her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “We, um… we have something to tell you.”

Ling’s parents immediately turned their full attention toward them, curiosity evident in their eyes.

Mae Koy set down the tea she had been pouring, her eyes lighting up. “Oh? What is it?”

Ling took a breath, her heart fluttering with anticipation. She looked at Orm, who gave her an encouraging nod, then turned back to their family.

“We had our first ultrasound yesterday,” Ling began, her voice soft but filled with joy. “And…” She paused for a moment, smiling as she let the moment build. “We’re having twins.”

The silence lasted only a split second before the room erupted in excitement.

Mae Koy gasped, hands flying to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Twins? Oh my goodness, my babies are having babies!”

Papa Oct, ever the composed one, let out a rare, hearty laugh, standing up to wrap both Ling and Orm in a tight embrace. “Twins, huh? Twice the trouble, but twice the love.”

Ling’s mother, let out a soft, emotional sound, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, my Lingling,” she whispered, reaching over to take her daughter’s hands. “You’re giving us two grandchildren?”

Ling’s father, chuckled warmly, his usually stoic expression softening with rare, unfiltered joy. “Well,” he mused, taking a sip of his tea, “I always said Ling was exceptional. I suppose this just proves it.”

Niran, who had been mid-sip of his orange juice, nearly choked. He coughed violently, eyes going wide as he looked between them. “Wait, wait, wait. TWINS? You’re telling me I’m not just becoming an uncle—I’m becoming an uncle of TWO?”

Ling and Orm both laughed at his reaction.

“Yes, Ni,” Ling confirmed, grinning. “Two little ones.”

Niran groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Great. Twice the responsibility. Twice the diaper duty.”

Mae Koy smacked his arm playfully. “Twice the love, you mean.”

“Twice the chaos,” Papa Oct added, smirking.

Orm, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Ling’s hand.

“I just… I just want to say,” she began, voice thick with emotion, “I know this journey won’t always be easy, but I’m going to do everything I can to be the best wife, the best mother—to protect them, love them, give them everything they deserve.”

Ling turned to her, heart swelling with love. She squeezed Orm’s hand reassuringly.

“You already are, love,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Orm’s cheek. “And you always will be.”

The table was silent for a moment, the weight of Orm’s words settling over them. Then Mae Koy sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. “Well, now you’ve got me crying again,” she huffed, shaking her head.

Niran, always one for comic relief, leaned forward. “Okay, but real talk—do I get to be the cool uncle? Like, you know, the one who sneaks them candy when their moms aren’t looking?”

Orm groaned, rubbing her forehead. “You will not be sneaking them anything, Niran.”

“Hey, that’s what you think.”

Everyone laughed, the love and joy filling the room, washing away any shadows that had lingered from the night before.

Ling leaned against Orm’s side, sighing contentedly.

For now, everything was perfect.

The warmth of their family’s laughter still lingered in the air, but Orm felt the weight pressing against her chest—the quiet, gnawing unease that refused to leave her alone. Even as she smiled and played along with Niran’s teasing, even as Ling’s fingers traced reassuring patterns on the back of her hand, she couldn’t silence the voice in the back of her mind.

Marcus Thanapol had gotten to Ling.

That single thought was enough to send ice through her veins.

She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she felt a firm, familiar hand squeeze her shoulder.

“Come outside with me for a moment, kid,” Papa Oct’s voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the underlying urgency.

Orm glanced at Ling instinctively, but her wife only offered her an encouraging nod, as if she had been expecting this. Taking a breath, Orm stood, following her father out of the dining room and onto the quiet back patio.

The sun hung lower in the sky now, casting long golden streaks across the garden. The gentle scent of Mae Koy’s flowers filled the warm air, but Orm felt none of the comfort it usually brought her.

Papa Oct didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, then thought better of it and put it back.

“You’re thinking about the premiere,” he finally said. Not a question. A statement.

Orm clenched her jaw. “I can’t stop.”

Papa Oct nodded slowly, watching her, reading her as he always did. “You’re afraid.”

Orm exhaled sharply through her nose. “I should be afraid,” she admitted. “Ling was in danger before because of Thanom. And now Marcus is here—his nephew, acting like some messenger from hell, saying Thanom’s still thinking about us, about her.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. “I can’t let this happen again, Papa. I won’t.”

Papa Oct’s gaze sharpened. “It won’t.”

Orm swallowed hard, the memory of Ling’s stiff shoulders, her guarded expression when Marcus had spoken to her, flashing through her mind. “I wasn’t there when he approached her,” she admitted, her voice tight with frustration. “I left her alone for five minutes, and that was all he needed. I keep thinking—what if he had more time? What if he had tried something? What if I hadn’t gotten to her fast enough?”

She turned to look at her father, her voice raw with helpless anger. “How the hell did he even get that close, Papa?”

Papa Oct’s expression darkened. He had been asking himself the same question.

“Marcus Thanapol isn’t just some lackey,” he said. “He’s careful. He wouldn’t have approached Ling unless he was certain he could get to her without anyone stopping him.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “And that means someone let him in.”

Orm’s stomach twisted.

“You think someone inside the event was working with him?” she asked, voice low.

“I think there’s a reason he knew exactly where Ling was, exactly when she was alone,” Papa Oct said grimly. “And I don’t like that one bit.”

Orm gritted her teeth, fists clenching at her sides. “You think Thanom still has connections on the outside?”

“Of course he does,” Papa Oct said without hesitation. “Men like Thanom don’t stop moving just because they’re behind bars. He’s been in prison for a while, but I’d be a fool to believe he doesn’t still have power. Someone is pulling strings for him. Marcus is just the one carrying out the orders.”

Orm exhaled sharply, looking out at the garden, her mind racing. “Then we cut the strings before they tighten around our necks.”

Papa Oct let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You remind me of your mother, you know that?”

Orm blinked, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “What?”

“She was the same way,” he said, a rare fondness in his voice. “Always ready to fight, always ready to put herself between the people she loved and whatever threatened them.” His eyes turned serious again, locking onto hers. “But you can’t protect your family if you burn yourself out first.”

Orm swallowed, her defenses slipping for just a moment. “I don’t know how to stop, Papa.” Her voice was quieter now, her shoulders tense. “I don’t know how to not be afraid for them.”

Papa Oct stepped forward, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to stop being afraid,” he said. “You just have to decide what you’re going to do with it.”

Orm met his gaze, searching for answers.

“You think I wasn’t afraid when I built this family? When I made enemies that wanted us gone?” Papa Oct continued. “I was. But fear is just another tool, Orm. Use it. Let it sharpen you, let it prepare you. But don’t let it control you.”

Orm took a slow breath, steadying herself.

“Tell me what you need,” Papa Oct said after a moment. “Whatever it is, we’ll make it happen.”

Orm hesitated for only a second. Then, her voice was clear, strong.

“I need security on Ling,” she said. “I need to know that when I’m not with her, someone I trust is.”

“Done.”

“I need to know who at that premiere let Marcus through.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Orm exhaled, nodding. “And I need to know exactly how much power Thanom still has from behind those bars.”

Papa Oct smirked slightly. “Already working on it.”

A long silence stretched between them before Orm finally looked away, staring at the horizon. “I’m going to be a mom, Papa,” she whispered, her voice raw. “Two babies. Two lives depending on me.”

Papa Oct’s expression softened.

“You already are a mom, Orm,” he said simply. “And the fact that you’re standing here, thinking about how to protect them before they’re even born? That tells me they couldn’t have a better one.”

Orm swallowed hard, her throat tightening.

Papa Oct sighed, squeezing her shoulder once more before stepping back. “Go back inside to your wife. Be with her. We’ll deal with this, I promise.”

Orm nodded slowly, but before she turned to go, she hesitated.

“Papa?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Orm’s voice was quiet, but firm.

“If Thanom tries anything—if he even thinks about hurting Ling or our children…” Her jaw tightened, her eyes darkening. “I won’t hold back.”

Papa Oct studied her for a moment before nodding, a quiet understanding passing between them.

“Neither will I.”

And with that, Orm turned back toward the house, back to the warmth of her wife, the love of her family—determined to protect them, no matter what it took.

_______

The warmth of home wrapped around them the moment they stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender and soft vanilla filling the air, soothing in a way only home could be.

Orm let out a slow breath, locking the door behind them, double-checking it before finally allowing herself to relax—just a little. She turned to Ling, who was already slipping off her heels with a quiet sigh, rubbing her lower back absentmindedly.

“Come on, let’s get you in a bath,” Orm murmured, stepping toward her, her hands instinctively reaching out to help.

Ling smiled softly at the care in Orm’s voice, letting her wife guide her toward their en-suite bathroom. She watched as Orm moved effortlessly, filling the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of calming oil, ensuring everything was perfect.

“You spoil me,” Ling murmured, her voice filled with warmth.

Orm turned to her, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

She reached out, gently sliding Ling’s dress from her shoulders, her fingertips lingering on her skin longer than necessary. It wasn’t desire in her touch tonight—no, tonight, it was something deeper. A quiet need to feel, to confirm that Ling was here, safe, real.

Ling cupped Orm’s cheek, her thumb stroking gently over her skin. “Join me?”

Orm hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

They slipped into the warm water together, Ling leaning back against Orm’s chest, her head resting against Orm’s shoulder. Orm’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her close, her hands resting protectively over Ling’s belly.

For a while, there was only silence. The soft ripple of water, the faint scent of lavender in the air, the slow and steady rise and fall of their breaths.

But Ling felt it—the tension in Orm’s body, the way her fingers traced slow, absentminded circles over her skin, the way her grip would tighten just slightly, as if afraid she might slip away.

Orm was spiraling.

Ling knew that feeling all too well.

She reached down, lacing her fingers with Orm’s, bringing her wife’s hand to her lips and pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. “Talk to me,” she whispered, her voice gentle.

Orm’s breath hitched slightly. She didn’t answer right away, just tightened her hold around Ling.

Ling sighed softly, leaning into her touch. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

She felt Orm’s jaw tense against her shoulder.

“First, it was my stalker,” Orm continued quietly. “He already got to you once.” Her voice trembled slightly, remembering the day Ling had been taken, the terror of almost losing her. “And now… his nephew.”

Orm inhaled sharply. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ling.”

Ling turned slightly in Orm’s arms, her eyes searching her wife’s face. “And what about you?” she whispered. “Who’s protecting you?”

Orm’s gaze softened, but there was something haunted in her eyes. She reached up, brushing damp strands of hair away from Ling’s face. “I don’t care about me. You and the babies—” Her voice cracked slightly. “That’s all that matters.”

Ling swallowed hard, feeling a familiar, deep ache settle in her chest. She reached up, cupping Orm’s face between her hands. “You matter to me,” she said firmly. “To us. I’m not raising these two without their mother”

Orm closed her eyes for a moment, as if absorbing the weight of Ling’s words. Then she let out a slow, shaky breath, resting their foreheads together. “I’m scared, Ling.”

Ling’s heart clenched at the rare vulnerability in Orm’s voice.

“I keep thinking about what could’ve happened,” Orm admitted. “Marcus got to you so easily. If I had been just a few minutes later—if he had done something—”

Ling placed a finger over Orm’s lips, silencing her gently. “But he didn’t,” she whispered. “And I wasn’t alone for long. You were there.”

Orm exhaled, pressing a soft kiss against Ling’s finger before pulling her hand away, holding it tightly. “I don’t know how to stop this feeling,” she admitted. “I keep running through every worst-case scenario in my head, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t—”

Ling shifted, sitting up slightly, turning fully in the water to face her wife. She reached for Orm’s hands, pressing them against her belly.

“Then stop thinking about what could have happened,” she said softly. “And think about what’s happening now.”

Orm’s eyes flickered down to where their hands rested over Ling’s stomach.

“We’re okay,” Ling murmured. “I’m okay. Our babies are okay.” She guided Orm’s hands gently over the curve of her belly, grounding her, bringing her back to the present. “Right now, we’re safe. Right now, I’m in your arms, exactly where I belong.”

Orm’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she stared at Ling, her hands tightening protectively over her belly.

Ling leaned in, brushing her lips softly over Orm’s. “We’re here, love,” she whispered against her lips. “Together. That’s all that matters.”

Orm let out a shaky breath, nodding as she kissed Ling deeply, pouring every ounce of her love, her fear, her desperation into the kiss.

Ling kissed her back just as fiercely, anchoring her, holding her, reminding her.

They stayed in the bath until the water cooled, until Orm’s breathing steadied, until the ghosts of her fears settled—if only for a little while.

Later, after warm towels and whispered reassurances, after soft kisses and gentle touches, they found themselves wrapped up in each other beneath the covers, the world outside fading away.

Orm lay on her side, her arm draped protectively over Ling’s waist, her palm resting on the warmth of her belly, feeling the soft, steady life growing beneath her touch.

Ling traced slow, soothing patterns along Orm’s arm, feeling the tension in her wife’s body slowly ease with each passing moment.

“Do you feel them?” she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.

Orm nodded, her thumb caressing the gentle curve. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s… unreal.”

Ling smiled sleepily. “They know their mommy’s touch.”

Orm swallowed thickly, pressing a lingering kiss against Ling’s shoulder. “I love you,” she murmured, her voice raw with emotion. “I love you so much, Ling.”

Ling turned slightly, cupping Orm’s cheek, brushing her lips softly against hers. “I love you more.”

Orm shook her head, resting her forehead against Ling’s. “Not possible.”

Ling chuckled softly, the sound warm and safe.

Orm traced her fingers gently over Ling’s belly again, pressing the softest kiss against it before whispering, “I love you both. More than anything in this world.”

Ling sighed contentedly, her fingers threading through Orm’s hair as sleep pulled at her. “We love you too, Orm.”

Orm stayed awake long after Ling’s breathing evened out, long after the soft moonlight painted their room in silver hues. She listened to the quiet, steady rhythm of Ling’s heartbeat, of the life growing between them.

And for the first time since the premiere, the weight in her chest felt a little lighter.

Because no matter what came next, no matter what shadows still lurked—right here, in this moment, they were safe. And that was enough.

______

Sunlight poured gently through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, casting a soft golden hue across the room. The air was quiet, peaceful—the kind of silence that only existed between two people completely at ease with each other.

Orm stirred first.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the warm morning light. The first thing she felt was the weight of Ling’s hand curled gently over hers. The second was the rhythmic rise and fall of Ling’s body, pressed against her front. Her palm was still resting protectively over Ling’s belly, and she could feel the faintest shift beneath her fingers—a subtle, soft movement, like a flutter in a dream.

Her heart swelled instantly.

She stayed still for a moment, just breathing, just existing in the serenity of this small miracle. Ling, warm and soft against her. Their babies, quiet and growing steadily inside the woman she loved more than anything in the world.

Ling shifted slightly, eyes fluttering open, blinking the sleep away. Her gaze met Orm’s, still heavy with dreams, but her lips curled into a smile the moment she saw her wife watching her.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice a breathy murmur.

“Morning,” Orm whispered back, brushing her fingers along Ling’s cheek. “You were talking in your sleep again.”

Ling let out a sleepy chuckle. “Was I?”

“Something about mangoes… and punching Marcus in the face.”

Ling groaned, hiding her face in Orm’s shoulder. “Okay, the mango part sounds accurate.”

Orm smiled into her hair. “Honestly, you’re perfect.”

Ling slowly pulled back, resting on her side. Orm’s eyes dropped instinctively to her belly—and that’s when she noticed.

Her breath caught.

“Ling,” she whispered, reaching out gently. “Your bump… it’s…”

Ling followed her gaze down and blinked in surprise. “Oh wow. Okay, that’s… definitely more than yesterday.”

Orm’s fingertips hovered above the curve for a moment before settling softly against it. “They’re growing,” she said, voice thick with awe.

Ling nodded, her eyes softening as she placed her hand over Orm’s. “I guess the pancakes are working.”

Orm chuckled, her heart aching with so much love she thought it might burst. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

Ling raised an eyebrow. “Even with the bedhead?”

“Especially with the bedhead,” Orm said, leaning forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

They lay there a while longer, wrapped in the cocoon of morning light and quiet joy. Ling’s bump was warm beneath their hands, a perfect reminder of what was coming—of what they were building.

“We should start planning,” Ling said softly after a moment. “The nursery. The names. Doctor visits.”

Orm nodded, already thinking, already spiraling just a little. “Cribs. Car seats. Diapers. Double everything.”

“Double the love,” Ling corrected gently, squeezing her hand.

Orm looked at her, really looked, and felt herself grounding again.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Double the love.”

And in that peaceful morning moment, the storm outside their world felt just a little farther away.

___

The day had been unusually calm. Ling had spent the morning lounging in the sunroom, reading with her feet propped up, occasionally humming to the quiet instrumental playlist playing softly in the background. The twins had been unusually active that day—tiny, fluttering kicks making her giggle to herself as she cradled her belly.

Orm had kissed her goodbye a few hours earlier, hesitant to leave for her production meeting but reassured by the presence of their trusted house staff and added security arranged by Papa Oct. “I’ll be back before sunset,” she had promised, lingering in the doorway, reluctant to leave.

And so far, everything had been… perfect.

Until the doorbell rang.

Ling frowned slightly. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and all deliveries were usually screened and signed for by staff. But the soft hum of the house had felt too quiet, too still—Mae was in the kitchen, the guards were outside, and no one seemed to have moved for the door.

She slowly stood, instinctively protective, her hand resting over her belly. Cautious but composed, she made her way to the front entrance.

A small package sat neatly on the welcome mat.

No courier. No footsteps retreating down the front steps. Just the box—plain, unmarked, sealed tightly with black tape. No label. No return address.

Something about it sent a chill down Ling’s spine.

She called for Mae, who came at once, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Ling pointed at the package.

Mae’s eyes narrowed instantly. “I didn’t hear anyone at the door.”

“Me neither,” Ling said, her voice low. “But someone left that.”

Mae gently pulled her back, shielding her instinctively. “I’ll call security.”

Within moments, two guards appeared. They scanned the area, eyes sharp, ears attentive. One of them carefully picked up the box, examining it for any markings or signs of tampering.

“Should we open it?” Mae asked, her voice tight.

Ling hesitated. Her instincts screamed no, but her curiosity and anxiety pushed her forward. “Not here. Let’s take it to the back and be careful.”

The guard nodded and carried it to the security table outside, where a small safe-checking device was stored. Mae kept Ling behind the glass door, one hand protectively pressed to Ling’s shoulder the entire time.

The box didn’t trigger any alarms.

It wasn’t wired. No explosives. No powders. No traces of toxins. It passed every surface-level check—but the eerie, calculated nature of the delivery made all of them uneasy.

Finally, with gloved hands, the guard carefully opened it.

Inside was a baby onesie. Soft. Pristine white. Folded neatly with gold embroidery.

Mae stepped forward first. “Is that…?”

But Ling saw it clearly now. Her blood ran cold.

The embroidery read:

“See you sooner than you think, little stars. — M”

Her breath caught.

“M,” she whispered aloud. “Marcus…”

The guards immediately moved into alert mode, already calling Papa Oct and preparing to inform Orm.

Ling didn’t cry. Not yet. She stood frozen in place, her hands trembling slightly as they gripped the edge of the doorframe. Her babies kicked gently inside her, as if sensing the shift in her body—her breath quickening, her chest tightening.

Marcus knew.

He knew they were expecting twins.

He knew where they lived.

And worse—he wanted them to know that he knew. From the safety of a distance, he had reached inside their sanctuary… and left a message.

______

Orm sat at the head of the long glass conference table, barely listening as one of the assistant producers flipped through slides. She’d been nodding and taking notes, but her mind kept drifting—back to Ling, to their home, to the tiny kicks she'd felt beneath her hand the night before. She missed her. She missed both of them.

She reached for her phone, already halfway through a message to check in when her screen lit up with a call.

Papa Oct.

Orm's brows immediately pulled together. Her father rarely called during work hours—texted, maybe, but a direct call during a meeting? That was never a good sign.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly, already pushing her chair back. She stepped into the hallway, heart already pounding. “Papa?”

His voice was calm, measured—but underneath, she heard it. That sharp edge only used when something was very wrong.

“Orm, don’t panic. Ling is safe.”

The world tilted slightly under her feet.

Her back stiffened. “What happened?”

“I just got a call from Mae. Someone left a package at your house about twenty minutes ago. No one saw them approach. It was unmarked.”

Orm’s breath caught. “What was in it?”

A pause.

“A baby onesie,” Papa Oct said quietly. “It had embroidery on it. A message.”

Orm didn’t say anything.

Her body had gone still.

Her father continued. “‘See you sooner than you think, little stars. — M.’”

For a heartbeat, Orm couldn’t breathe.

And then the fire ignited.

“Marcus,” she hissed, her voice low and seething.

“Mae handled it well. Security protocols were followed. The package wasn’t dangerous—no explosives, no poison. Just a message. But he wanted to scare you. He wanted to scare her.”

“He succeeded,” Orm said through clenched teeth. “I’m leaving now.”

“Orm—”

“I need to be with my wife.”

Papa Oct exhaled. “I know. I just wanted to call before the official report hit your phone and you spiraled.”

Too late.

Orm was already spiraling.

“I’ll handle it from this end,” Papa Oct continued. “The guards are doing a sweep, but I want your security doubled starting tonight.”

Orm didn’t respond. She was already moving, her voice clipped as she flagged down her assistant. “Cancel everything. I have a family emergency.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

Sliding into the back seat of her car, Orm dialed Mae’s number.

“Orm?” Mae answered instantly, her voice tight but steady. “I’m with her now. She’s okay. Shaken, but okay.”

“Put her on.”

“Orm…” came Ling’s voice, low and trembling but holding steady. “Hey.”

Orm closed her eyes, her voice softening instantly. “Baby, are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Ling whispered. “I didn’t touch it. I waited for Mae and the guards. I promise.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

“I know.” Ling’s voice cracked just slightly. “I just… I wanted to hear you.”

“I’m here,” Orm said quietly, fiercely. “I’m here, Ling. And I’m not going to let him do this to you. Not again.”

There was silence on the line—then a shaky breath.

“I believe you.”

Orm hung up and leaned back against the car seat, eyes closed, fists clenched.

This was a message. A warning. A game.

And Marcus had just made his next move. Orm had never been more ready to strike back.

_________

The heavy iron door shut behind the guard, locking Thanom Ratchada into his private corner of the underworld. The walls were clean, but sterile. His tailored prison uniform crisp, as if denial of reality could be sewn into the seams.

He sat on a padded leather chair—not standard issue. Nothing about Thanom was standard. Wealth still bought influence. Even behind bars, he was a king in a gilded cage.

The burner phone in his hand buzzed once.

Marcus.

Thanom’s lips curled slowly, his expression one of mock amusement as he answered the call, voice smooth as poisoned silk.

“Well?” he drawled. “Did you deliver the gift?”

Marcus’s voice crackled over the line, low and tense. “I did. She found it this morning. They’re rattled.”

“Good,” Thanom purred, leaning back in his chair. “She should be. I told you—Ormpailin was never meant for her.”

A long pause.

Then his tone sharpened.

“She was supposed to be mine.”

Marcus didn’t respond. He’d heard this before, many times. Thanom's obsession with Orm had only intensified over the last year. It had started years ago, when he watched her rise in the industry—fierce, brilliant, untouchable. He saw himself in her. He wanted to control her. Possess her. And when Ling came into the picture… he had made his decision.

“Eliminate the distraction,” Thanom had said.

That distraction—Ling—had fought back. Hard. And now, Thanom was here. In prison. While Orm… Orm had married her.

Thanom slammed his palm against the desk, eyes burning with fury.

“She should be mine! And now I find out she’s not only married to that little actress but carrying her children? Children?!”

He stood abruptly, pacing like a caged animal. “Do you know what it’s like to plan a future with someone who doesn’t even know they were meant to be yours? And now she belongs to her? I built her up. I watched her rise. I gave her everything—opportunity, power, protection.”

“You gave her trauma,” Marcus muttered before he could stop himself.

Thanom froze. His head turned slowly, voice venomous. “Careful, nephew.”

Marcus swallowed hard. “Sorry. I meant—Orm is… not the same. She’s stronger now. Her father—”

“Octavius,” Thanom spat. “That snake. Always pretending to be noble. But he’s just like me. The only difference is, he won.”

He stared at the wall as if he could see through it. Through steel. Through miles. Through time. Right into the heart of the family that had denied him everything.

“But he can’t protect her forever,” Thanom whispered. “And when the mask slips, when he’s too slow—I’ll be there. Watching. Waiting. I’ve already planted the seeds.”

“You sure this is the right time?” Marcus asked cautiously. “They’re more protected than ever. Oct’s got new security. They’re watching us.”

Thanom smiled coldly.

“I want them to watch. I want Octavius to know he failed. I want Orm to look over her shoulder every time she steps outside her door. To feel it creeping up her spine. I want Ling to wonder—every night—if this is the last time she’ll sleep beside the woman she loves.”

“Uncle—”

“No,” Thanom snapped, his tone dropping to a cruel whisper. “She made her choice. Now they’ll both live with it.”

There was silence on the line for a moment.

Then Thanom added, almost too calmly:

“Tell me—what did Orm’s face look like? When she realized someone had been that close?”

Marcus exhaled. “She was… afraid. But not weak.”

Thanom’s mouth twitched. “Good. Fear is the beginning of control. Keep pressing. Don’t hit. Not yet. Just... tighten the net. Slowly. Let them squirm.”

Then, softer:

“She will come back to me.”

And with that, the line went dead.

Thanom leaned back into his chair, breathing heavily, eyes burning.

“She will be mine,” he whispered into the quiet. “And I will destroy the rest.”

____

The tires of Orm’s car screeched softly against the driveway pavement as she pulled in, barely waiting for the engine to shut off before yanking open the door. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it echoed in her ears. The call from Papa Oct still buzzed in her mind—Mae called. Something was wrong. Something had been delivered to the house.

She didn’t even close the car door properly. She ran.

The moment she stepped inside, her senses went into overdrive.

“Ling?” she called, her voice sharp and urgent. “Ling, baby, where are you?”

“I’m here!” Ling’s voice came from the kitchen, and Orm moved instantly in that direction.

Ling was standing beside Mae Koy, who was trying to stay calm but couldn’t hide the tightness in her jaw. On the kitchen island lay a small, elegantly wrapped box—red silk ribbon, gold foil. Completely out of place. Completely wrong.

Orm’s breath caught.

Mae stepped in quickly. “I didn’t let her open it. I called Oct right away, then kept her with me.”

Orm rushed to Ling, checking her over instinctively, hands moving over her arms, her shoulders. “Are you okay? Did you touch it?”

Ling shook her head, trying to appear composed, but Orm saw through it. Her wife’s hands trembled just slightly. “I didn’t touch it. But… the name on it—” She paused, eyes flickering. “It was addressed to me, Orm.”

Orm’s stomach turned. She slowly approached the box, as if it might explode. “Did anyone else see who left it?”

Mae Koy shook her head. “It was on the front porch when we got back from our walk. No car, no delivery slip. Just… sitting there.”

Orm felt her chest tighten. She looked at Ling, who was watching her with silent fear, and she knew—this was a message. Not a gift. A threat.

“Get security to check the cameras,” Orm said quickly, pulling out her phone. “I want every second of footage from today. And I want guards stationed at every corner of this house. Immediately.”

Ling moved to her, placing a hand on her arm. “Orm…”

But Orm turned to face her fully, eyes burning. “I told you I wouldn’t let them near you again. I promised.”

“I know,” Ling whispered. “I trust you.”

But Orm could see it now—the cracks forming. The fear returning. The storm creeping closer.

She reached for Ling’s hand, gently pressing it over her belly.

“They want us scared,” Orm whispered, her voice low but steady. “But I swear on my life, I will keep you and our children safe. No matter what it takes baby.”

And in her eyes, Ling saw it again—that fire, that unshakable love. But underneath it… the same fear she carried.

Because whatever was coming—it had already started.

________

A storm was brewing—not just outside, where grey clouds clung low to the city skyline—but inside the quiet, heavily guarded estate where Papa Oct sat at the head of a long mahogany table.

Flanking him were three trusted men—Akom, his right hand for over two decades; Jayden, former special ops, now Oct’s chief of private security; and Surachai, the family's legal fixer, whose calm exterior masked the mind of a shark.

Papa Oct placed the red velvet box on the center of the table. The ribbon was gone. The contents now known: a single white baby shoe and a printed photo of Ling at the premiere—her hand on her belly, Orm’s arm wrapped protectively around her.

Nothing else.

No note. No signature.

But they all knew what it meant.

“They’ve crossed the line,” Papa Oct said, voice cold, eyes sharp. “Marcus Thanapol has moved from posturing to provocation and this comes from his uncle Thanom.”

Akom leaned forward, jaw clenched. “He wants to rattle them. He thinks he’s clever.”

Jayden tapped his tablet, bringing up the security footage from the front of Orm and Ling’s house. “Footage caught nothing. Whoever delivered the box walked straight into a blind spot. Professional. In and out in less than 30 seconds.”

“Which means they know the layout,” Papa Oct muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “They studied us.”

Surachai adjusted his glasses. “Thanom may be in prison, but the game is the same. Marcus is just a pawn with pedigree. Thanom’s still pulling strings.”

Papa Oct’s hand curled into a fist. “Then it’s time to start cutting them.”

He looked up, voice sharp.

“Jayden, I want round-the-clock detail on Orm, Ling, and my grandchildren. I don’t care if it looks excessive—we are done underestimating this man.”

Jayden nodded once. “Consider it done. Four-man team, rotating shifts, ex-military only.”

“Akom, you’ll coordinate with our contacts in the prison system. I want every visitor Thanom’s had in the last year. Every letter. Every phone call. Especially the ones off the record.”

Akom smirked darkly. “I’ll get them. Even the illegal ones.”

“Surachai,” Papa Oct continued, his eyes glinting, “open up the files on the Thanapol family assets. Let’s squeeze them. Quietly, but relentlessly. Frozen accounts. Denied permits. Seized properties if we can.”

Surachai was already typing. “They’ll drown in red tape before they even notice who pulled the plug.”

Papa Oct leaned back in his chair, but there was no ease in him. Just a coiled, waiting stillness.

“They came for my daughter once,” he said quietly. “They thought they could do it again. This time, they’re coming for her wife. For their children.”

He looked up, fire burning behind his calm.

“This ends now.”

The men around the table nodded as one. Orders given. Lines drawn.

And far away, behind the high walls of his prison cell, Thanom Ratchada’s phone began to ring. He answered it with a smirk. But he had no idea the storm that was already coming for him.

_____

The phone buzzed again.

Thanom Ratchada picked it up lazily, reclining on his padded bench like a man in a private suite instead of a maximum-security prison. He didn’t even bother to check who it was—there were only a handful of people foolish or loyal enough to call him directly.

“Speak,” he answered smoothly, swirling the lukewarm tea in his cup like it were fine scotch.

There was a pause, then a tense voice came through the line.

“Octavius has moved.”

Thanom stilled, the smile sliding ever so slightly off his face.

“How so?” he asked, his tone flat.

The voice hesitated. “He’s activated all his old contacts. Private security for Orm and Ling, around the clock. Four-man rotations. All ex-military. One of them used to work personal detail for a head of state.”

Thanom’s grip tightened around the cup. The porcelain cracked with a faint pop.

“And the rest?” he asked, voice deceptively soft.

“His team’s digging into our family accounts. Permits, licenses, offshore activity. He’s pulling strings across the Ministry, the tax board, the zoning office. There’s red tape forming faster than we can clear it.”

Thanom stood slowly, his spine straightening with seething fury.

“And in the prison system?”

“They’re coming for your records. Visitors. Calls. Letters—especially the unmonitored ones. Octavius isn’t hiding it anymore. He’s declaring war.”

Thanom’s smile returned—but it wasn’t amused this time.

It was twisted.

“Of course he is,” he whispered.

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before turning to the small mirror bolted to the wall. He stared at his own reflection, breathing slow and deep.

“So,” he murmured to himself, “the old snake still has fangs.”

He slammed the tea cup onto the steel counter. The remaining shards scattered, a small symbol of a fractured plan.

“Tell Marcus,” he said slowly, “to proceed to Phase Two.”

“But sir—”

“Octavius wants war?” Thanom’s voice sharpened like a blade. “Then give him one.”

He leaned closer to the mirror, eyes wild and glittering.

“I will burn his legacy to the ground. Starting with his daughter… and ending with everything she loves including his grandchildren if I have to”

The Bangkok skyline stretched endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, golden light bleeding into sharp shadows across the marble floors. Marcus Thanapol stood near the glass, a tumbler of whisky in hand, untouched. He wasn’t drinking—he was calculating.

He had been waiting.

The encrypted phone on the mahogany desk rang once. Just once.

He turned, set his glass down with quiet precision, and answered it.

“Uncle.”

Thanom’s voice came through, low and simmering. “Octavius is moving.”

A grin curled at the corner of Marcus’s mouth. “Good. I was beginning to think he lost his touch.”

“He hasn’t. He’s surrounding your precious Orm with guards. Military-trained. Digging into our family assets. Making noise in the Ministry.”

Marcus’s smirk faltered slightly. “And what do you want me to do?”

Thanom didn’t hesitate.

“Phase Two.”

Marcus’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “You’re sure?”

“Make it clean. Make it public. Remind Octavius what happens when you touch a sleeping dragon.”

Marcus turned back toward the window, looking down at the glittering city like it was a chessboard.

“And Ling?” he asked coolly.

Thanom’s voice sharpened like glass. “I wanted her gone a year ago. She stole Orm from us. Destroy her.”

Marcus’s jaw tensed, but his tone stayed smooth. “Consider it done.”

The line went dead.

He set the phone down carefully, like a final chess piece on a finished game.

Then, he turned to the sleek tablet waiting on the side table. A blueprint of Ling and Orm’s new house blinked softly on the screen. He tapped once.

Surveillance cameras. Security logs. The movements of the guards recently assigned. Times. Weak spots.

He’d been watching all along.

“Phase Two,” he murmured to himself, cracking his knuckles slowly. “Let’s see if love still protects you, Orm Kornnaphat… or if it finally becomes your weakness.”

He picked up his glass of whisky and took a long, deliberate sip.

It had begun.

______

It started with small things.

The sound of tires screeching a little too sharply outside their gate late at night. A bouquet of flowers delivered without a sender’s name. A parked car across the street that didn’t belong to anyone in the neighborhood. Twice.

The first time, Orm brushed it off.

The second time, she didn’t.

Now, five days into the calm-before-the-storm unease, Orm couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest.

She stood by the window in their living room, watching the security guards quietly rotate shifts beyond the gates. Their presence was meant to reassure her. It didn’t.

Behind her, Ling shuffled into the room, wrapped in one of Orm’s oversized sweatshirts, her hair still damp from the shower. Her hand rested instinctively over her belly—habit now, second nature.

“Baby,” she said softly, “you’re watching again.”

Orm turned slightly, her eyes sweeping over Ling in that way she always did now—quick, quiet checks: safe, whole, breathing.

“I just… needed a minute,” Orm replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ling walked over and slipped her arms around Orm from behind, pressing her cheek against her wife’s back. “Talk to me.”

Orm covered Ling’s hands with her own, letting out a long breath. “It’s nothing concrete. Not yet. But I feel something. You know that feeling when the sky looks clear, but the air is too still?”

Ling nodded against her. “Yeah. Like a storm’s hiding behind the horizon.”

Orm turned slowly in her arms, resting her hands on Ling’s waist. “I don’t want to scare you, but… we need to be extra careful for a while. If anything feels off—even slightly—I need you to tell me.”

Ling’s eyes searched hers. “You think it’s Marcus.”

“I know it is,” Orm said. “This is how people like him play. Slowly. Quietly. Until it’s too late.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, their foreheads touching, breaths synced. Orm’s thumb brushed over Ling’s growing bump as if the motion could ward off anything dark trying to creep in.

“I’m not going to let them take this from us,” she whispered fiercely.

Ling’s voice was softer, steadier. “They won’t.”

Orm looked up, startled by the certainty in Ling’s tone.

“I’m scared too,” Ling admitted. “But we’ve been through hell before. And we made it out together. Stronger. This time, we’re not alone. We have our families. Our guards. We have you.”

Orm blinked fast, the emotion rising in her chest so suddenly it hurt.

“And we have our babies,” Ling added, gently taking Orm’s hand and pressing it over her stomach. “Who will grow up safe, happy, and surrounded by love. Because we won’t let them know fear.”

Orm exhaled shakily, pulling Ling tightly into her arms. “I love you,” she murmured. “So much it terrifies me.”

Ling smiled softly, pressing her lips to the hollow of Orm’s neck. “Then let’s stay terrified together. But never powerless.”

The doorbell rang suddenly.

Both women froze.

Orm’s body tensed in an instant. Her eyes darted to the front camera monitor. A delivery van. No logo.

“Stay here,” Orm said, voice low. She moved toward the front door, grabbing her phone as she checked the screen again. “Jayden!” she called into the security line. “Do we have confirmation on the delivery truck at the gate?”

A beat of silence.

Then static.

“Jayden?”

No response.

Orm’s pulse spiked.

From behind her, Ling stepped forward—but Orm quickly held out her hand. “Back. Go upstairs. Now.”

Ling hesitated, her eyes narrowing in fear.

But she nodded.

Orm reached into the drawer by the door and took out the compact firearm Papa Oct had insisted she keep nearby. Her hand trembled—but only for a second.

This was her home. Her family.No one would threaten them. Not again.

Jayden leaned against the gatepost, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the midday sun. His posture was relaxed, but his senses were anything but. Every movement in the quiet suburban street, every bird that flew too low or pedestrian that lingered too long—he noticed.

A soft static buzzed in his earpiece.

“Rotation clean,” one of the guards reported from the far perimeter. “Nothing unusual.”

Jayden was about to respond when a dull rumble grew louder up the street.

He straightened slightly as a white delivery van came into view, its windows tinted darker than regulation. No branding. No license plate on the front.

Jayden’s brows furrowed.

“Hold,” he said into the mic, his tone sharpening. “We expecting a delivery?”

A pause.

Then Surachai’s voice crackled in his ear. “Negative. No scheduled drop-offs.”

Jayden’s gut twisted. He stepped out from the gate, holding up one hand to halt the van. “Stop the vehicle. Now.”

The van didn’t slow.

His hand dropped instinctively to the holster on his belt. “I said STOP!”

Finally, with a squeal of tires, the van jerked to a halt—too close to the gate.

Another guard emerged from the side entrance with his rifle half-raised, eyes narrowed. “You want me to open the rear doors?” he muttered.

Jayden shook his head. “Not until we ID the driver.”

He approached the van slowly, weapon still holstered but fingers twitching with readiness. The driver’s side window rolled down… just an inch.

A man inside, face obscured by a cap and surgical mask, leaned slightly toward the slit. “Got a delivery for Mrs. Kornnaphat.”

Jayden’s jaw clenched. “From who?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Step out of the vehicle.”

The man didn’t move.

“I said step—”

A loud BANG rang out—not from a weapon, but from inside the van, something slamming hard against the interior walls.

Jayden drew his gun instantly. “Weapons up! Circle it, now!”

Guards swarmed into position, crouched and aimed, as Jayden barked again, “Driver, hands where I can see them. Step out slowly.”

But the driver suddenly threw the van into reverse, slamming backward with a roar, tires screaming against the pavement. One of the guards narrowly avoided getting hit as the van screeched down the street, tires burning.

Jayden shouted, “Do NOT pursue! Lock down the perimeter. Lock it down now!”

Another voice cut in—Surachai. “Jayden, Orm just called. She saw the van on the screen—she’s not getting your signal.”

Jayden cursed under his breath, already sprinting back to the house. “I’m five seconds out. Lockdown initiated. Let her know we’re on it.”

As Orm stood by the door, gun in hand, her phone finally buzzed. Jayden’s voice came through, low and tight.

“Van’s gone. We forced them to retreat. No breach. Everyone’s safe.”

Orm didn’t move. Her eyes were still fixed on the gate’s monitor, her hand tight around the handle of the firearm.

“They’re testing us,” she whispered.

Jayden paused. “Yeah. And next time, it might not be a test.”

Orm stormed into the entryway, phone still in her hand, her face pale with fury.

Ling, who had just stepped out from their bedroom, froze at the sight of her.

“Orm?” she said softly. “What happened?”

Orm didn’t answer—not yet. She paced back toward the monitor screen by the security panel, watching the footage of the white van reversing and speeding away. Her hands were trembling—not from fear, but from pure, unfiltered adrenaline.

Jayden’s voice crackled in her earpiece again. “We’re sweeping the area. Two of my guys are following a lead—there might’ve been a second vehicle—”

“Get everyone in here,” Orm snapped, cutting him off. “Now. Front entrance. All of them.”

Ling blinked. “Orm—”

“Not now, baby,” she said quickly, her voice soft but strained. She reached out and gently squeezed Ling’s hand, a silent promise. Then she kissed her forehead and turned away, jaw tight.

A few minutes later, all four guards were assembled in front of her—Jayden at their lead, brows furrowed, clearly bracing for the storm.

Orm didn’t yell.

She didn’t need to.

Her voice was low and shaking when she began. “A van came right up to the front gate. It wasn’t scheduled. No credentials. No tag. And it got close enough for me to see it on the screen before any of you called it in.”

The guards stood straight, silent.

“That’s my wife. My pregnant wife. And our children. Inside this house.” Orm’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “Do you know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t seen it first? If Marcus—or whoever the hell sent that van—had actually stepped out with a weapon?”

Jayden started to speak. “Orm—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off, eyes blazing. “No excuses.”

Jayden’s jaw clenched, but he nodded once, accepting it.

“You were supposed to be shadows, right?” Orm continued. “Unseen. Efficient. But the moment something real happens—something fast, unexpected—you react too late.”

One of the younger guards shifted uncomfortably. Orm noticed. “Don’t even move. Don’t flinch. You don’t get to feel sorry. You get to feel accountable.”

Jayden stepped forward carefully. “You’re right. And I take full responsibility. We were caught off guard. It won’t happen again.”

Orm stared at him, her breathing tight. Her next words came out quieter—but sharper than ever.

“It can’t happen again. Because if something happens to her… or to them…” Her hand drifted briefly to her heart, then dropped. “There won’t be a second chance. And I won’t just hold you responsible—I’ll be the one to clean it up myself.”

Jayden’s eyes flickered—not with fear, but respect. “Understood.”

“Double the guards,” Orm ordered. “Around-the-clock patrol. No blind spots. New cameras on the north wall. I want metal detectors at both gates. Facial recognition scanners. I don’t care how much it costs or how paranoid it looks—this is war now.”

She took a deep breath. “And if Marcus tries again, I want him to know: he picked the wrong family.”

Jayden nodded sharply, then turned to relay the orders. The other guards followed without question, urgency suddenly crackling in the air.

Only once they were gone did Orm collapse back onto the bench in the hall, pressing her hands to her face. Her whole body was shaking, but she didn’t cry.

Ling appeared a moment later, crouching beside her silently, placing one hand over her wife’s trembling ones.

Orm lowered her hands and met Ling’s eyes—red, fierce, vulnerable.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered. “I’d burn the world first.”

Ling gently cupped her cheeks, pressing their foreheads together.

“Then I guess we better start building something stronger than this world,” she whispered back. “For us. For them.”

_____

The house was quiet now. No more security briefings. No more angry pacing. No more questions. Just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the low, steady rhythm of Orm’s breathing.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders finally beginning to drop, the adrenaline of the day wearing off, leaving her raw and exhausted.

Ling walked in wearing one of Orm’s oversized T-shirts—her favorite one, the faded "Keep Silent" tee Orm wore when they first fell in love. The sight alone unraveled every tight knot inside Orm’s chest.

“Hey,” Ling said softly, padding barefoot toward her. “You’ve been quiet.”

Orm looked up and gave a tired smile. “Trying to stay that way. You’ve had enough tension for one day.”

Ling shook her head and sat beside her. “I don’t care about the tension. I care about you.”

Orm sighed, eyes flickering to Ling’s belly, gently covered by the fabric. “You and the babies—you’re all I think about now. Every move I make. Every breath.”

Ling took her hand and brought it to rest over her bump, skin warm beneath the fabric.

Orm's eyes glistened.

“Do you want to talk to them?” Ling asked, voice barely above a whisper, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Orm blinked. “What?”

“You talk to them when you think I’m asleep,” Ling said, amusement and love mingling in her tone. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

Orm chuckled sheepishly, the tension finally breaking. “They deserve to know how loved they are… even before they get here.”

She turned slightly and shifted to her knees, so she was eye-level with Ling’s belly. Carefully, reverently, she lifted the hem of the shirt and rested her cheek against the skin.

“Hi babies,” she whispered. Her voice was low, intimate, filled with more love than she knew how to put into words. “It’s your mommy. Again.”

Ling leaned back against the pillows, eyes glistening, watching her wife like she was the most beautiful miracle in the world.

“You gave us a scare today,” Orm continued, her fingers softly tracing over the bump. “Someone came too close, and I… I got angry. Scared. Because I can’t imagine this world without you. I want to see you grow up. I want to hold your hands when you take your first steps. I want to be the one you run to when you’re scared. And I want to be the one who shows you what love looks like.”

She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m gonna protect you. With everything I am. And your mama too. She’s the strongest, kindest, most beautiful woman in the world. You’re so lucky she’s yours. And I’m so lucky she’s mine.”

Ling’s hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks silently. Her heart was aching—in the best, fullest way possible.

Orm leaned forward and kissed the curve of her stomach, softly. Then once more, just above it.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Both of you. And you too,” she added, turning her head to look at Ling with a tender, teasing smile.

Ling was already crying. She opened her arms without a word.

Orm climbed back beside her and let herself be pulled in, tucking her head into the curve of Ling’s neck.

“I love you,” Ling whispered, holding her tightly. “So damn much, Orm Kornnaphat. You’re everything.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Orm murmured against her skin.

Ling pulled back, cupped her face, and kissed her slowly—deeply—letting that kiss say what words couldn’t.

“You’re going to be the best mom in the world,” Ling whispered, brushing their noses together. “And I’ll remind you of that every single day.”

Orm’s eyes fluttered closed as she smiled. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And wrapped in each other’s arms, the world once again melted away—leaving only love, and the soft, steady pulse of new life growing between them.