Danger ⚠️

One month later.

The days had grown longer, and so had the shadows. The threats hadn’t returned—not directly. No more mysterious packages. No more unmarked vans. Nothing since the attempted delivery. On the surface, life had returned to something resembling peace.

But Orm didn’t believe in coincidence.

She moved through their house like a quiet sentinel—always listening, always watching. Ling had stopped commenting on the way Orm double-checked the doors or insisted on keeping her phone within reach at all times. They both knew the silence didn’t mean safety.

Still, some things had changed for the better.

Ling’s belly had grown. So had the strength in her steps, the glow in her cheeks, the gentle weight of anticipation in her smile. The twins were moving more now—every flutter a reminder of what they were fighting for.

Their love had grown, too.

Every night, Orm would curl against her, whispering stories into her belly like they were building memories before the babies even arrived. And Ling would watch her with eyes full of quiet, aching adoration.

But something still waited in the air—coiled and cold.

Orm felt it every time she looked out the window. Every time the wind changed. Every time Ling laughed, and her heart squeezed just a little too tight.

Because love this big? It always had a cost.

The scent of jasmine rice and grilled salmon filled the kitchen, gentle and comforting, just the way Ling liked it these days.

Orm moved with practiced care, plating everything with precision, making sure the egg yolk was just the right kind of runny, the soup hot but not scalding. She added a small bowl of mango slices—sweet, fresh, chilled. Ling had been craving them more and more lately.

The tray was perfectly balanced. Orm carried it down the hall in her oversized shirt and soft joggers, barefoot, silent. The morning sun streamed in through the windows, casting golden stripes across the wooden floors.

Their bedroom door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Ling was still curled beneath the covers, half-asleep, her arm draped protectively over her belly. The room was bathed in warmth—the faint hum of the air purifier, the soft rustle of the curtains, the rhythm of two steady heartbeats in the space between them.

Orm smiled.

She set the tray down on the bedside table and climbed into bed behind her wife, wrapping an arm gently around her waist, careful not to disturb her.

“Smells like heaven,” Ling mumbled, eyes still closed, a soft smile curling on her lips.

“I made your favorite,” Orm whispered against her shoulder. “Eggs, salmon, jasmine rice. And your mango slices.”

Ling slowly turned toward her, eyes blinking open. “You spoil me.”

Orm kissed her forehead. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

She pressed her palm to Ling’s belly, feeling a soft flutter beneath her hand. Her chest swelled instantly.

“Good morning, little ones,” she whispered.

Ling giggled, the sound soft and sleepy. “They’ve been practicing their kickboxing all night. Pretty sure the left one is more aggressive.”

Orm’s brow lifted. “Left one is clearly mine, then.”

Ling laughed, then winced slightly, placing her hand over hers. “Easy, little tiger.”

They stayed like that for a few quiet minutes—just breathing, just being—until Orm reluctantly pulled away.

“I have to go in early today,” she said softly. “We’re doing set revisions, and I have a meeting with Papa after work.”

Ling nodded, brushing her fingers through Orm’s hair. “I’ll be okay. Mae Koy’s coming over later, remember?”

“And the guards will be on rotation. Jayden’s running today’s schedule himself,” Orm added, her tone firm, though her eyes lingered on Ling’s face longer than necessary.

“I’ll be safe,” Ling whispered. “I promise.”

Orm nodded, but didn’t move yet. Her hand slid back to Ling’s belly, stroking slow, loving circles over the soft curve.

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” she said, smiling. “Ultrasound. We find out what we’re having.”

Ling lit up instantly. “You still think it’s two girls?”

“I’m hoping for one of each now,” Orm admitted. “A little boy and a little girl. Balance.”

Ling laughed. “Well, either way, they’re going to be so loved.”

Orm kissed her once, deeply, like it had to last her the whole day. Then again, softer, against her belly. “You behave for Mama today, okay?” she whispered. “No ninja kicks while I’m gone my loves, leave your mother in peace.”

Ling rolled her eyes affectionately. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Orm grinned, standing and grabbing her phone and jacket. “I’ll call you between meetings. And I’ll be home before dinner.”

Ling nodded, watching her with that warm, unwavering love in her eyes. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

And just before Orm walked out the door, she turned one last time to take in the sight—Ling in their bed, glowing in morning light, hands protectively curved over their growing future.

It was everything she fought for. And everything she was about to protect with fire if necessary.

_______

Orm stood in front of the large whiteboard, arms crossed, as her creative team debated a new location shoot for the final sequence of her upcoming series. Her mind was half in the conversation, half on the message thread with Jayden—every 20 minutes, a check-in from the guards, every two, a flicker of worry she tried to bury beneath production notes and camera angles.

“You’re spacing out again,” her assistant, Ploy, said gently, stepping closer. “Is it the park scene, or… the usual?”

Orm glanced up, offering a tight smile. “Sorry. Long night.”

Ploy didn’t push. Everyone knew Orm hadn’t been herself lately—but no one dared speak it aloud. Not with the rumors of what happened at the premiere. Not with Octavius Kornnaphat’s name suddenly whispered again in political backrooms.

Orm tapped the whiteboard. “Change the third act’s park scene. Too exposed. We’ll shoot on the rooftop garden we scouted two weeks ago instead. More control.”

“Got it,” Ploy said. “Anything else?”

Orm’s gaze drifted to her watch. Almost time.

She packed her tablet and notes quickly. “Cancel my 4 p.m. I have a meeting with my father.”

Ploy blinked. “That serious?”

Orm just nodded, her expression unreadable. “Yeah.”

The sun dipped low as Orm entered the room, where Papa Oct was already seated behind his polished black desk, a glass of scotch untouched beside him.

He didn’t waste time.

“We found a breach in the southern grid of your perimeter two nights ago. Just a flicker. Someone tested your cameras with signal interference tech.”

Orm tensed immediately. “And?”

“Jayden’s team didn’t catch it in time. But they flagged the frequency bounce. It’s custom-made. Expensive. And Thai-manufactured, which narrows the circle.”

“Marcus?” Orm asked.

Papa Oct nodded once. “Or someone working directly under him. Either way, they know your security better than we’d like. We’ve upgraded everything, but this confirms one thing.”

“He’s preparing,” Orm muttered.

Papa Oct leaned forward, hands steepled beneath his chin. “He’s watching. Listening. Waiting for you to let your guard down.”

Orm sat across from him, fire simmering beneath her calm.

“They won’t get in,” she said.

Papa Oct nodded. “They won’t. But the question now isn’t if they’ll try again.”

He paused.

“It’s when.”

Orm’s fists curled on the table. “Then we strike first.”

Papa Oct didn’t argue.

Instead, he opened a folder and slid it across the desk.

Orm looked down. Surveillance stills. Documents. A new address.

“Marcus has been renting a warehouse near the old docks,” he said. “Surachai traced one of his men there last week.”

Orm’s eyes scanned the files.

“What do you want to do with it?” she asked.

Papa Oct’s eyes were like ice.

“Nothing yet. We wait. Watch. Gather everything. And when we’re ready… we don’t just scare them.”

Orm’s jaw tightened. “We end it.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Papa Oct reached into the drawer and pulled out a small velvet box.

Orm stared. “What’s that?”

“Something your mother kept for you,” he said quietly. “Back when we were first building the foundation. In case something ever happened to us.”

He opened it slowly.

Inside sat a sleek silver necklace. Minimalist. Elegant.

Hidden within the clasp—a security tracker. Bio-locked to Orm’s DNA.

“She thought you’d never wear a panic button. So she made it look like armor.”

Orm swallowed.

Papa Oct met her eyes. “Put it on.”

Orm reached forward with steady hands and took the necklace. She didn’t need to speak.

They both knew.

Whatever was coming—they’d be ready.

_______

The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room as Mae Koy placed a fresh bowl of cut tropical fruits on the coffee table.

Ling, curled up on the couch in one of Orm’s hoodies and a pair of cozy socks, looked up with a grateful smile. “Mae… you don’t have to wait on me, you know. I can still walk.”

Mae Koy raised an eyebrow, settling onto the couch beside her. “Oh hush. Let me spoil you while I can. In a few months, you’ll be too busy chasing after little feet to sit still for fruit.”

Ling giggled, picking up a slice of mango. “Okay, fair.”

There was a pause—quiet, easy.

Then Mae Koy looked at her belly, her smile softening. “They’re growing fast, aren’t they?”

Ling nodded, resting a hand over the bump that now felt like an undeniable presence in her every movement. “Faster than I expected. Orm’s been obsessively measuring it with her hands every night.”

“Sounds like her,” Mae Koy chuckled. “She used to measure the height of her sunflowers every morning when she was ten. Made me take pictures.”

Ling burst out laughing, then winced a little, holding her side. “Don’t make me laugh too hard, Mae.”

Mae Koy gently placed a hand over hers, her expression turning fond. “You know… I always hoped Orm would find someone who would calm her chaos. Someone who would soften her without dimming her light.”

Ling blinked, eyes stinging suddenly at the tenderness in her voice. “Do you think I’m that person?”

“I know you are,” Mae said without hesitation. “I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at you. Not even her career ever had that power over her.”

Ling lowered her gaze, overwhelmed for a moment.

Mae Koy reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “And the way you love her back… it’s something special, Ling. Real. Rare.”

Ling bit her lip, tears threatening. “I’m scared sometimes,” she admitted softly. “Not just about the stalker… or Marcus… but about being a mom. About being enough for them.”

Mae Koy leaned in and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Sweetheart… no one is ever fully ready to be a parent. Not even me. But love? That’s the only thing you need to start. And you and Orm—” she smiled, tapping Ling’s belly gently, “—you two have enough love to build an entire world for these little ones.”

Ling let out a soft, emotional laugh, laying her head on Mae Koy’s shoulder. “Thank you. Really.”

They sat like that for a while, watching the fading sunlight paint the walls in gold and rose. No threats. No headlines. Just peace.

Then the twins kicked—hard enough that Ling startled.

Mae looked down and beamed. “Oh! That was a strong one.”

Ling laughed, cradling her belly. “It’s their way of saying thank you for the fruit.”

Mae Koy grinned. “They’ve got good taste.”

Ling tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “Just like their mama.”

Mae chuckled, brushing a kiss to Ling’s temple. “And their mommy’s not so bad herself.”

The front gate camera buzzed softly—just a routine update from the guards this time.

Ling didn’t even flinch.

For tonight, the house was still.

Warm. Safe. And filled with love.

The clock on the wall ticked softly—9:47 PM.

Ling sat in the living room, curled on the couch in the same hoodie from earlier, her eyes flicking to the door every few minutes. Her phone sat on the coffee table, untouched, Orm’s chat open on the screen. Her last message had been read hours ago.

Mae Koy had gone to bed an hour earlier after making Ling a cup of warm honey tea, but the worry had quietly bloomed in Ling’s chest like a storm cloud refusing to pass.

She knew Orm was meeting with Papa Oct. She knew it was important. She knew the security was tight. Still…

Her fingers drummed nervously on her belly.

Then, finally—

The soft beep of the front door.

Ling bolted upright.

Orm stepped in quietly, phone in one hand, keys in the other, her hair slightly windswept and her expression tense—until her eyes landed on Ling.

“Baby…” she breathed, her whole body softening instantly. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Ling didn’t respond at first. She just stood, frozen for a moment with relief, then crossed the room and threw her arms around Orm.

“I was worried,” she whispered against her neck. “You didn’t text…”

Orm held her tightly, guilt stabbing through her chest. “I know. My phone died in the car. I didn’t even realize—things ran longer with Papa and… I’m sorry, Ling. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Ling pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes glossy. “I was trying not to spiral. I kept telling myself everything was fine, but after the van last week, and the onesie, and everything—”

Orm pressed her forehead to Ling’s, gently brushing their noses. “Everything’s okay. I promise. I had extra security with me, Jayden updated me just before I left. The perimeter’s holding. No sightings. Papa’s moving fast on Thanom’s communication ring.”

Ling nodded slowly, letting the rhythm of Orm’s words calm her.

“Don’t disappear on me like that again,” she whispered. “Please.”

Orm cupped her face gently. “Never. You’re my entire world. You and them.” Her hand slid down to Ling’s belly, resting there tenderly. “I can’t afford to forget what I’m coming home to.”

The twins kicked at the sound of her voice, making them both laugh through the thick emotion.

“They know you. Yes mommy is home my loves” Ling whispered.

Orm kissed the bump softly. “I’d come home from anywhere for you three.”

Ling wrapped her arms around her again, holding her like she needed to feel every inch of her alive and safe.

“Tomorrow we find out if they’re boys or girls. Or maybe both.” she murmured, smiling despite herself.

Orm grinned. “I’ve been trying not to think about it all day so I wouldn’t accidentally jinx it.”

Ling smiled too, resting her chin on Orm’s shoulder. “Whatever they are… they’re already so lucky to have you as their mother.”

Orm tightened her arms around her wife, the weight of the night finally settling.

“Not as lucky as I am to have them as my babies,” she whispered.

And there, in the quiet glow of their home, two hearts steadied again—knowing that no matter what tomorrow brought, they would face it hand in hand.

______

The morning sun painted soft gold across the kitchen counter as the scent of toasted bread, sliced fruit, and Ling’s favorite herbal tea filled the house. Orm moved quickly, neatly packing small containers into a cloth lunch bag—slices of apple, crackers, and a thermos of tea for Ling. Everything had to be perfect.

She glanced at the time. Almost 8:00 AM.

They needed to be at the hospital in an hour.

“Ling, are you almost ready?” she called, her voice a soft mix of excitement and nerves.

From the hallway came a muffled, “Yes! Don’t rush the pregnant lady!”

Orm grinned, wiping her hands and moving toward the entryway—just as Ling appeared, glowing in a flowy cream blouse and stretchy maternity jeans, her hair in a soft braid over her shoulder.

“God,” Orm breathed, unable to stop staring. “How are you even more beautiful today?”

Ling smirked. “Because today we get to meet the twins properly.”

Before Orm could answer, Mae Koy stepped in from the front door, purse over her shoulder and sunglasses perched on her head. “Are my girls ready?” she beamed, clearly trying to hold in her excitement.

Ling laughed and kissed her cheek. “You sure you don’t want to drive?”

“Oh, please. Let Orm drive. I want to sit in the back with the twins and talk to them the whole way.”

Orm rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re going to spoil them before they’re even born.”

“Exactly my goal.”

Mae Koy reached over and placed a hand gently on Ling’s bump. “Hello, my little stars. It’s grandma. We’re going to find out if you’re princesses, princes, or one of each today, hmm?”

Orm chuckled from the front seat. “You’re talking to them like they’re already out.”

“They can hear us. And don’t interrupt our bonding,” Mae Koy said sternly, making Ling giggle.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Ling muttered fondly.

“But you love it,” Orm tossed back, catching Ling’s reflection in the mirror and watching the joy on her face.

She did love it. And today felt like a gift.

The waiting room was unusually quiet for a weekday morning. Orm had checked in quickly while Ling sat beside Mae Koy, their hands entwined. Orm kept glancing at them—two halves of her heart in one place.

Soon, a soft-spoken nurse appeared with a warm smile. “Mrs. Kornnaphat? Ready for your scan?”

Ling nodded, standing slowly. Orm was immediately at her side, slipping her hand around Ling’s waist.

They entered the softly lit ultrasound room together, Mae Koy close behind, humming with quiet excitement. The nurse guided Ling onto the exam table and dimmed the lights slightly as the machine warmed up.

“Are you nervous?” Orm whispered, brushing Ling’s hair back.

Ling shook her head. “Just… ready.”

The cold gel spread across her skin, and the wand moved gently over her belly. Orm gripped her hand, their eyes locked on the screen as the black-and-white images began to appear.

“Here we are…” the technician said gently, angling the monitor. “Two beautiful babies. Strong heartbeats. Good position today.”

Then—

A pause.

“Would you like to know the sexes?”

Ling and Orm looked at each other, then nodded at the same time.

The nurse smiled. “Well, Baby A is a girl…”

Orm’s breath hitched.

“...and Baby B is a boy.”

There was silence for half a second—then Orm laughed, her eyes welling with tears. “A boy… and a girl…? We’re having a boy and a girl?”

Ling gasped, covering her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Orm…”

Mae Koy was already crying softly, hand to her heart. “My babies,” she whispered.

Orm leaned forward, kissing Ling’s forehead, then her hand, then the top of her bump. “Hi, my little ones,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You’re perfect. You’re everything.”

Ling reached up, cupping Orm’s cheek with trembling fingers. “We’re having both baby, Orm. A boy and a girl.”

They kissed—soft and slow—tears falling between their cheeks, hearts full beyond words.

Two stars already lighting up their world.

________

The soft click of the front door echoed through the quiet house as Orm guided Ling gently inside, one hand resting protectively on the small of her back, the other holding her bag. Mae Koy had kissed them both goodbye in the car, promising to come by tomorrow with food and gifts—and, knowing her, probably more tears too.

Now, the house felt still, sun filtering in through the tall windows, warm and golden.

Ling sighed as she slipped off her shoes and leaned into Orm’s side, her voice still delicate from all the emotions. “I can’t believe it… A girl and a boy.”

Orm wrapped her arms around her from behind, nuzzling into her shoulder. “I still think I’m dreaming. Should I pinch myself?”

Ling chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side so their cheeks touched. “If you do, I’ll feel it too.”

Orm smiled, swaying them gently in place. “Then I won’t. I never want to wake up.”

They stood there for a while, wrapped in silence and each other, until Orm kissed Ling’s temple and whispered, “Come. Let’s sit. You need to rest.”

Ling let herself be guided to the couch. Orm helped her get comfortable, propping up her legs with a pillow and placing a soft throw blanket over her. Then she disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a few slices of chilled mango—her favorite.

Ling looked up, heart melting at the sight of her wife fussing over her.

“You know,” she teased softly, “you’re going to spoil me rotten.”

Orm sat down beside her, drawing Ling’s legs across her lap and gently rubbing slow circles over her calves. “That’s the plan.”

They ate together quietly, stealing soft glances, brushing fingertips, every touch lingering. Eventually, Ling leaned her head on Orm’s shoulder, and Orm cradled her like she was made of stardust.

Orm rested her hand over Ling’s bump, her thumb tracing delicate shapes like she was writing silent love letters to their children.

“Can I?” she asked gently, her voice low.

Ling nodded with a tender smile. “Always.”

Orm shifted, leaning closer until her lips brushed softly over the bump. She placed one hand on each side, holding their babies as if to keep the world away.

“Hi, my little stars,” she whispered. “Your mama and I just met you today. We saw your tiny hands and perfect little hearts. You’re beautiful. You’re strong.”

She kissed the bump again.

“You, baby girl… You’re going to have your mama’s fire. I just know it. Brave, brilliant, fierce. And you, baby boy… I can already tell—you’re going to be gentle and thoughtful like her too.”

Ling blinked back fresh tears, brushing her fingers through Orm’s hair, overwhelmed all over again.

“I promise to protect you,” Orm went on, her voice cracking slightly. “To teach you, to make you laugh, to show you what love looks like—through every fight we win, every joy we share.”

She looked up at Ling then, eyes shining. “We’re going to raise them in a world full of love, Ling. No matter what.”

Ling nodded, silent, emotional.

Then she reached down, cradling Orm’s cheeks and gently pulling her up for a kiss—slow, full of awe and reverence.

“We already are,” she whispered.

They curled together on the couch, arms around each other, hands resting over the future they were building—two heartbeats, two stars, and a love that was endless.

_______

The days that followed the ultrasound were soft and golden.

Mae Koy had brought over tiny onesies in pastel colors, spoiling them with little hats, books, and a “Congratulations, you made humans!” cake that made Ling laugh so hard she cried. Niran had already started pitching baby names like a lunatic uncle on a sugar high. Even Ling’s parents had started calling more often, asking gently if the nursery was being painted yet.

It was peaceful.

Almost too peaceful.

Now, as morning light spilled across their bedroom, Ling sat cross-legged on their bed, folding a few new baby clothes. Orm was at her small desk nearby, flipping through a folder Papa Oct had passed along. A furrow had settled between her brows. One that hadn’t left in days.

Ling glanced up. “That’s the third time you’ve re-read that same page.”

Orm blinked and looked up like she’d been pulled out of a daze. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

Ling set down the tiny socks and padded over. She wrapped her arms around Orm from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. “Talk to me.”

Orm leaned back into her for a moment. “Papa’s been quiet. Too quiet. He’s planning something big. I can feel it. We’re safe, but… not still. The energy’s off.”

Ling’s arms tightened around her. “Do you trust him?”

“Of course,” Orm said immediately. “With my life. With yours.”

“Then let him handle it.” Ling pressed a kiss to Orm’s neck. “You’re allowed to rest too, you know.”

Orm closed her eyes, letting out a soft breath. “Only because you’re here.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in quiet. But something was shifting. They could both feel it.

Outside their peaceful home, the next move in the game was already being played.

__

The morning had started just like any other.

Orm kissed Ling’s forehead before slipping into the driver’s seat of her matte black SUV, her coffee still warm in the cupholder. She had a quick appointment at the studio—just two hours, she'd promised—and then she'd come straight back home to spend the rest of the day planning the nursery with Ling.

Ling had watched her from the front porch, one hand on her bump, the other wrapped around a mug of herbal tea Mae Koy insisted she drink every morning. She smiled as Orm waved from the driver’s seat. They locked eyes.

Then the engine roared.

And something felt... off.

Orm frowned immediately. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel. The car jerked as she backed out of the driveway—more than usual. A grating, dragging sound scraped underneath the chassis.

Then it happened.

Halfway down the street, her brakes gave out.

Orm slammed her foot down—but the pedal dropped with no resistance.

Nothing.

She yanked the wheel, barely managing to swerve into the embankment before crashing into the neighborhood wall. A sickening crunch echoed through the air as the side of the SUV crumpled against the curb.

Inside the house, Ling screamed.

“ORM!”

She bolted out the front door without a second thought, barefoot and wide-eyed, despite Mae Koy’s panicked shouts behind her.

Guards rushed past her, weapons half-drawn, orders blaring into comms. But all Ling could see was the warped metal. The smoke curling from the hood. The car door being yanked open.

And then—Orm.

Alive. Shaken. Her hands bleeding slightly from the shattered glass, but she was standing.

She stumbled out and barely got her footing before Ling was in her arms, clinging to her like the earth was slipping away beneath her feet.

“I’m okay,” Orm gasped, voice hoarse. “Baby, I’m okay.”

“No, no you're not,” Ling whispered through her sobs. “I saw it. You could’ve… you could’ve—” Her voice broke.

Mae Koy arrived seconds later, wrapping them both in her arms.

“I’ve got you,” Orm murmured, cradling Ling’s head as their guards formed a perimeter. “It’s over. I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

But Ling’s heart thundered in her chest. Not because it had happened.

Because it almost had.

She’d nearly lost her wife.

The house was on lockdown.

The SUV had been taken to Papa Oct’s private mechanic. The verdict came quickly: the brake line had been cut, cleanly and deliberately. Not wear-and-tear. Not coincidence.

Deliberate.

Orm sat on the edge of the bed, her hands bandaged, eyes locked on the floor. She hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes.

Ling stood across from her, one hand on her belly, the other gripping the edge of the dresser. Her breaths came slow, but tight, controlled only because she had to.

“I can’t do this again,” she finally whispered.

Orm looked up, startled. “Ling—”

“No. Let me say it.” Ling’s voice cracked with emotion. “I know you’re strong. I know you’re brave. But today… today I watched your car lose control. I watched the person I love most nearly die.”

Orm stood, reaching for her. “But I didn’t—”

“But you could have. And if you had—” Her voice broke again, and tears streamed down her cheeks. “I would’ve been alone. Me. Our children.”

Orm pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if she could fuse them into one.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into Ling’s hair. “I should’ve checked. I should’ve listened to my gut. I should’ve taken another car. I didn’t think they’d try something like that yet.”

“They did,” Ling said softly. “And next time, they’ll try harder.”

Silence fell.

Then, very quietly, Orm asked, “Do you want me to stop working? Until the babies come?”

Ling pulled back, stunned. “What?”

“I’ll stay. I’ll cancel the shoot. I’ll pull out of the entire campaign. I don’t care. I just… I can’t leave you like that again. Not knowing if I’ll come back.”

Ling stared at her for a long moment. Then she reached up, cupping her cheek. “You are allowed to live, Orm. You are allowed to have purpose. But from now on… not without a driver. Not without a full security check. And not without me knowing where you are, minute by minute.”

Orm nodded slowly, her lips brushing Ling’s palm. “Deal.”

Ling leaned forward and kissed her deeply—slowly. Like anchoring them both to something solid in the middle of this storm.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too baby,” Orm said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The atmosphere inside the prison was as suffocating as it was sterile—concrete walls, stale air, and the quiet hum of tension that lingered like smoke.

But Papa Oct walked through it like it was marble under his feet.

He wore a tailored charcoal suit, no tie, his shirt slightly open at the collar. Cool. Collected. But his eyes—sharp as broken glass—burned with something far more lethal.

The guards knew who he was. No one asked questions. No one slowed his path.

They simply opened the doors.

When he reached the visitor room, a private one granted only to a man of his reach and reputation, Thanom Ratchada was already waiting.

Thanom sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, an arrogant half-smile on his face as he looked up. “Well, well. The king himself. What an honor.”

Papa Oct didn’t sit right away.

He closed the door quietly behind him, the sound soft but final.

Then he walked to the table, slowly, and placed a thin folder in front of Thanom.

Thanom didn’t touch it. “What’s this? Your resignation letter from this little game we’re playing?”

Papa Oct’s voice was calm. “It’s a list of everything I’m about to take from you.”

Thanom’s smile twitched. “That sounds… dramatic.”

Papa Oct finally sat, folding his hands over the table. “Your offshore accounts? Already frozen. Your properties? Being seized under five separate jurisdictions. Your remaining assets? You’ll be lucky if your nephew has bus fare by the time I’m done.”

Thanom’s smile slipped, just slightly.

“You see,” Papa Oct went on, voice razor-sharp, “I let you rot in here because I thought prison would be punishment enough. But you—” his eyes narrowed, “—you made it personal again.”

Thanom leaned forward, sneering. “Your daughter—”

“—isn’t the one who walked into this,” Papa Oct cut in coldly. “You did. You touched Orm. You put a message in her home. In her car. With her pregnant wife not far.”

His tone dropped to ice. “You made a move on my grandchildren.”

Thanom’s knuckles whitened where they gripped the edge of the table, fury dancing beneath the surface. “She was never yours to protect, old man. Orm belonged to me—before your brat daughter sunk her claws into her.”

Papa Oct didn’t flinch. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

“Why not?” Thanom barked. “You think you’re the only man who sees potential? I’ve always whatched Orm, she was my princess, not this miserable Lingling Kwong.

He didn’t finish.

Papa Oct had leaned forward, slow and deadly.

“Careful how you speak about my family.”

Thanom’s breath caught—but he masked it with a scoff. “So what? You’re going to do what, old man? Kill me in here? Send your dogs to slit my throat in the shower?”

Papa Oct smiled. “I don’t have to kill you. I’m going to erase you. Strip everything until you’re not feared, not even remembered. You’ll live long enough to feel it all slip away. One cut at a time.”

Thanom’s hands trembled slightly. Rage boiled in his eyes. “You won’t touch Marcus. He’s not in your reach.”

Papa Oct’s eyes didn’t waver. “He was already touched the second he left that package on my doorstep. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

A long silence.

Then Thanom spoke, low and bitter. “You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

Papa Oct’s smile faded, and for the first time, something colder settled in his eyes. “No,” he said softly. “I’m worse.”

He stood, collecting the folder, and stepped to the door.

Just before opening it, he turned back.

“One more thing,” he said, voice soft, but soaked in finality. “Try anything else. One more move against my daughter, her wife, or my grandchildren… and I’ll burn this prison to the ground with you inside it. You’ll never see the sky again. I should have put this bullet in your skull”

Thanom didn’t respond. But his silence said enough. Papa Oct walked out, the door slamming shut behind him with a heavy, echoing clang.

___

The rain had started just after sunset.

A soft, steady drizzle at first—barely noticeable beyond the windows of their home. But it had grown into a rhythmic downpour, wrapping their world in grey.

Ling sat curled up on the couch in their sunroom, wearing one of Orm’s sweaters again. The fabric hung loosely over her frame, but her hands were wrapped tightly around a mug of warm ginger tea. Her eyes, usually sharp and clear, were dim tonight—exhausted, unfocused.

Orm noticed the difference the second she stepped into the room.

“Ling?” she said gently.

Ling didn’t respond at first. Just blinked slowly, like it took effort to come back to herself.

Orm crossed the room in seconds, kneeling in front of her. “Baby, what is it? Talk to me.”

Ling shook her head faintly, her voice a whisper. “Just… tired. My head hurts.”

Orm immediately cupped her cheeks, alarm flaring in her chest. “You’re warm,” she said, brushing her hand against Ling’s forehead. “You didn’t say anything this morning.”

Ling gave her a faint, sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to worry you. You had enough on your mind”

Orm cut her off, her voice soft but firm. “That doesn’t matter more than you.”

She reached for the pulse oximeter and thermometer they kept nearby—Papa Oct had made sure their home was stocked with everything short of a full clinic. Ling didn’t argue. She just leaned her head back and let Orm fuss over her, her fingers clinging gently to Orm’s wrist like an anchor.

A few minutes later, Orm’s lips pressed into a tight line.

“No fever,” she murmured. “Vitals are okay. But you’re pale, and you’re not eating.”

“I’ve just… been feeling off,” Ling admitted. “The last few days. Nausea’s worse. My body’s heavier. The kicks… they’re fine, but my head’s a mess.”

Orm sank beside her, pulling her close, one hand resting protectively over her bump. “It’s the stress, isn’t it?”

Ling nodded slowly. “I try not to show it. But I hear the whispers outside. I see how tight the guards stand. The way Mae looks out the window every hour like something’s coming. And you… you’re carrying so much, Orm.”

Orm’s throat tightened. “You’re the one carrying our children, Ling. You’re allowed to feel this. You’re allowed to break a little.”

Ling’s eyes filled, but no tears fell. “What if I break too much?”

Orm turned to face her, gently cupping her face. “Then I will be here to hold every piece. Every time. Always.”

Ling buried her face in Orm’s shoulder, and for a long moment, they just stayed like that—wrapped in each other as the storm outside pounded the windows.

But inside their home, Orm was already making a silent decision.

It was no longer enough to play defense. She would not wait for Marcus or Thanom next move. She would make one of her own. She will not make this situation continue when her babies arrive.

Orm sat in the leather armchair across from her father’s desk, eyes locked on the storm outside his office window. The rain hadn’t let up—it only mirrored the unrest building in her chest.

Papa Oct closed the folder he’d been reviewing and set it aside with unusual care. Then he looked at his daughter—really looked at her.

“You came straight from the house,” he said. “Is Ling alright?”

Orm nodded slowly. “She’s not feeling well. Headaches, nausea. She’s pushing through, but it’s too much. The pressure. The security. The threats. It's… it's getting into her body now.”

Papa Oct exhaled, long and low, and reached for the bottle of aged scotch he usually kept hidden in the bottom drawer. Tonight, he didn’t pour a drink. He just needed to touch the glass.

“I went to see Thanom,” he said.

Orm’s eyes snapped to his, her entire body tensing. “You what?”

“ I needed to see him,” Papa Oct said. “To see his state of mind, from my own eyes. Not from my guards, everyone can be bought nowadays’”

Orm scoffed. “And you went?”

“Of course darling” Papa Oct replied. “To know how far he’s willing to go.”

Orm leaned forward, her fingers tightening on the armrest. “And?”

Papa Oct didn’t blink.

“He’s still obsessed with you. I thought, since he was calmer, that he moved on. But clearly he didn't.”

Silence.

Orm’s stomach turned. Her heart twisted. Her skin crawled.

“He spoke about you like you belonged to him,” Papa Oct continued quietly. “Like your marriage was some kind of betrayal. And now—now that he knows you’re going to be a mother—” He stopped, jaw tightening. “He sees your children as part of what he lost.”

Orm’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s going after Ling again.”

Papa Oct nodded, his voice graver than Orm had ever heard it. “He didn’t say it outright. He’s too smart for that. But the way he spoke… he wants to destroy her. Not because of what she’s done—but because she has what he never could.”

Orm stood suddenly, unable to sit still anymore. She paced, fingers running through her hair, rage rising like a tide she couldn’t hold back. “He’s going to make a move. I feel it. He’s not sending flowers anymore. He’s escalating.”

“He will try something,” Papa Oct confirmed. “Soon. And I’m afraid it won’t just be a scare tactic this time.”

Orm stopped moving. Her voice was quiet. Deadly calm.

“Then I’ll put a bullet in his head if I have to.”

Papa Oct looked at her—his daughter, his fiercest warrior—and saw it in her eyes: the line had been crossed.

“I mean it,” Orm said, stepping closer. “I will put a bullet in both their heads—Thanom’s and Marcus’s—if they try to touch her. Or our babies. I will not hesitate.”

Papa Oct didn’t argue. He didn’t warn her off.

Instead, he stood slowly and crossed the room.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, the same way he had when she was ten and scared of the dark, and again when she was sixteen and brave enough to walk away from her first love.

“Then I will help you aim.”

They stood there, side by side, the storm outside echoing the one inside their blood.

Because this wasn’t just about love anymore. It was war.

The house was quiet when Orm returned, too quiet. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that felt like something was missing.

She dropped her keys gently on the console and made her way toward the bedroom, her steps slowing when she noticed the faintest sound—like a sniff, muffled and soft.

Her heart dropped.

“Ling?” she called gently.

No answer.

Orm stepped into their bedroom and found her wife curled up on her side, buried beneath layers of blankets, her back to the door. The soft light from the window painted her in pale silver, but it was the quiet shake of her shoulders that broke Orm’s heart.

“Hey…” Orm crossed the room in three strides, kneeling beside the bed. “Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Ling didn’t answer at first. She just kept her hand over her face, as if trying to hide the truth of her tears.

Orm reached up and gently pulled the covers down. “Ling…”

Finally, Ling turned, her face blotchy, her eyes red and swollen.

“I’m trying so hard,” she whispered. “But I’m tired, Orm.”

Orm’s chest shattered.

Ling looked at her, eyes shimmering. “I’m scared. I don’t want to be, but I am. Every time I step outside, I feel like I’m being watched. I keep waking up in the middle of the night, wondering if someone’s going to break in. And these babies…” She placed her hand over her bump. “They feel everything. I can’t protect them from how scared I am.”

Orm climbed into bed, pulling Ling into her arms without another word. “I’m here. I’ve got you. All of you.”

Ling buried her face in Orm’s neck. “How do you stay so strong?”

Orm kissed her hair, holding her tighter than ever. “Because I have to. For you. For them. For us.”

“I feel like I’m failing them already,” Ling whispered.

“No,” Orm said fiercely. “No, Ling. You’re doing everything right. You’re protecting them every second just by loving them. And I promise you—I will take care of the rest.”

She pulled back just enough to see Ling’s face.

“I will kill for you, Ling. I’m not saying it to scare you. I’m saying it so you know—no matter what happens, no matter what they try—I will end this before I let them get close again.”

Ling stared at her, wide-eyed. “You… saw Thanom?”

Orm hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Papa did. Today. He told me everything. And yes—Thanom is still obsessed. He’s ready to move again. But so am I.”

Ling closed her eyes, tears falling fresh.

Orm cupped her cheek and whispered, “We will get through this. I swear. And when it’s over, you’ll be safe. They’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it, even if it means burning everything else down.”

They stayed tangled in silence, holding one another like a life raft in rising waters.

Two women.

Two hearts.

One family worth fighting for.