Chapter 2
The day of the premiere
Orm point of view
The morning sun filtered through the windows of Orm’s house, casting a soft glow across the living room. Mae moved around quietly, tidying up as the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Orm sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring her cup, watching the steam rise and swirl.
Mae walked over and placed a small plate of fruit in front of her. "Eat something, sweetheart. You’ll need your energy today."
Orm nodded, though her appetite was nowhere to be found. She picked up a slice of mango but barely tasted it. Her thoughts were already at the premiere tonight—the flashing cameras, the interviews, the inevitable comparisons.
Mae took a seat across from her, studying her daughter’s distant expression. “You didn’t sleep well, did you?”
Orm let out a soft sigh. “Not really.” She hesitated before continuing. “It’s... strange, isn’t it? Tonight, at the exact same time, Ling will be on her own red carpet, and I’ll be on mine. In the same city, but completely apart.”
Mae reached for Orm’s hand. “It is strange. But you’ve both chosen your paths. You can’t control what happens outside that theater tonight, but you can choose how you handle it.”
Orm’s gaze dropped to her mug. “I thought I was stronger than this.”
Mae gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You are. But it’s okay to feel things, Orm. It’s okay to be nervous. It’s okay to still care.”
Orm’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She hated that she was still so affected by the thought of Ling—by the memories, by everything they’d been and everything they couldn’t be.
Mae smiled softly. “Whatever happens tonight, just remember: this is your moment. You worked so hard to get here.”
Orm nodded, though the tightness in her chest remained. "I just wonder if she’s thinking about me too," she whispered.
Lingling point of view
Across the city, the early morning sunlight streamed into Lingling’s apartment. The quiet hum of the city below felt distant as she sat cross-legged on the couch, sipping her tea. Her gown for the night hung nearby, pristine and flawless—but it felt surreal to think about wearing it.
Her phone vibrated on the table, lighting up with notifications. The buzz around the premiere had reached a fever pitch overnight.
P’Mam, still dressed in her casual workout clothes, walked in with two bowls of breakfast. “I hope you’re eating, because I am not dealing with you fainting later,” she said, setting one bowl down in front of Ling.
Lingling managed a small smile and took a spoonful. “Thanks, P’Mam.”
P’Mam sat beside her, resting an arm on the back of the couch. She gave Ling a knowing look. “You’ve got that look again.”
Ling glanced away, but P’Mam wasn’t letting her off the hook. “Are you thinking about her?”
Lingling’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to... but yeah.” She let out a long breath. “Orm’s premiere is tonight too. And even though we’re not... us anymore, it still feels like we’re connected somehow. Like the universe keeps making sure we’re on parallel paths.”
P’Mam tilted her head thoughtfully. “Or maybe the universe is giving you both a chance to rewrite your own stories.”
Lingling smiled sadly. “Or to close them for good.”
P’Mam’s eyes softened as she placed her bowl on the table. “Ling... can I ask you something?”
Lingling nodded hesitantly.
“Why are you waiting for Orm to reach out first?”
Lingling’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down at her tea, tracing the edge of the cup with her thumb.
“I don’t know... she messed things up first,” she whispered. “But I know I did too—later. And I’ve been waiting for her to say something—to forgive me, maybe just to talk about it.” She exhaled shakily. “But the longer I wait... the more I wonder if she ever will.”
P’Mam’s voice was gentle but firm. “Have you ever thought that maybe she’s waiting for you too? That maybe she doesn’t even know if you want to fix things?”
Lingling’s shoulders tensed as P’Mam’s words hit home.
“And after the Win drama...” P’Mam added, her voice soft but pointed. “You know how that looked, love. Barely a few months after the Only You tour, and suddenly there are photos of you and Win almost kissing at that gala?”
Lingling winced at the memory. The flash of the cameras, the media frenzy the next morning—it all came rushing back. She’d been out celebrating with friends after a gala, and in one thoughtless, tipsy moment, she and Win had been caught too close, too familiar. The way the photo captured their near-kiss made it look damning, even though nothing had really happened.
But the damage was done. Orm hadn’t believed a word of her adapting explanations—or maybe she had, and it just hurt too much to matter.
“I didn’t mean for it to get so messy,” Lingling whispered. “I just... didn’t know how to stop it. Everything spun out of control so fast.”
P’Mam reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We never do, not until it’s too late.” She paused, studying Lingling’s face. “But it’s not too late to make things right—if you really want to.”
Lingling’s chest tightened. The truth of P’Mam’s words settled heavily over her. She’d spent so long expecting Orm to reach out first, to somehow make things right—because she’d been too afraid to admit that she’d broken them in the first place.
Lingling blinked back the sting of tears and whispered, “What if I’m too late?”
P’Mam reached over and squeezed her hand. “You won’t know until you stop waiting.”
The city outside hummed with life as the countdown to the evening began. Lingling glanced at her phone again, her heart thudding in her chest.
She had spent so long caught in her fear of rejection that she’d forgotten something simple but powerful—she still had the choice to try.
The sun began to set over Bangkok, casting a golden glow across the skyline as the city buzzed in anticipation. The venues for both premieres were surrounded by reporters, fans, and the hum of excitement.
Inside the luxurious condos reserved for the lead actors near the premiere locations, both Orm and Lingling were in their final moments of preparation.
Orm point of view
Orm stood barefoot in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the sea of people gathering below. Even from this height, she could hear the faint hum of excitement rising from the red carpet.
Her stylist called out from the adjoining room, “Five minutes, Orm!”
Orm turned toward the sleek vanity, where her gown hung like a beacon. The emerald green fabric shimmered under the soft lights, drawing her in.
Smith walked in, already dressed in his suit, looking at her through the mirror. “You okay?”
Orm nodded, though her reflection told another story. “Yeah... just trying to breathe.”
Smith walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got this. You’ve worked your ass off to get here. Don’t let your mind steal this from you.”
Orm took a steadying breath and smiled softly. “Thanks, Smith.”
Her team entered, carrying the final touches—her shoes, her earrings, and her clutch. Mae had called earlier to wish her luck, and the memory of her mother's warm encouragement lingered in her heart.
She stepped into her gown with practiced grace as the stylist zipped her up. When she turned toward the mirror, even she had to admit—she looked ready to own the night.
Smith grinned. “Let’s make the world remember your name.”
Orm picked up her clutch, gave herself one last look, and nodded. This is my moment.
Ling point of view
Lingling’s condo was bustling with quiet energy as her team added the finishing touches. The sleek, minimalist space was filled with the hum of last-minute conversations and the clicking of jewelry clasps.
Lingling stood in front of her vanity, smoothing the fabric of her pristine white gown. The soft material hugged her frame perfectly, a mix of elegance and boldness. She was radiant—but the weight in her chest hadn’t left.
Sonya appeared in the doorway, already dressed in a navy blue gown that shimmered under the light. She whistled playfully. “Wow. You look like a dream, Ling.”
Lingling laughed softly. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Sonya walked in and placed her hands on Ling’s shoulders, looking at her through the mirror. “You ready?”
Lingling hesitated, then gave a small nod. “I think so.”
P’Mam entered, holding a clipboard and speaking quickly to one of the event coordinators. She paused when she saw Lingling and smiled warmly. “You’re stunning. The press won’t know what hit them.”
Lingling exhaled slowly. “I hope so.” Her eyes flickered to the clock. The time for her to descend to the red carpet was drawing closer.
“I agree, P’Mam. People will fall at P’Ling’s feet,” Sonya added with a wide smile.
Lingling felt her cheeks heat up at the compliment. Sonya always had that effect on her—not because she was easily flattered, but because she knew. She knew that Sonya had feelings for her.
It wasn’t something Sonya ever said outright, but Lingling could see it in the way Sonya looked at her, in the kindness behind her teasing words. And every time, Lingling felt the same dull ache in her chest—the guilt of knowing she could never return those feelings.
Because her heart still belonged, completely and painfully, to Orm. It always had, and it always would.
P’Mam noticed Lingling’s slight discomfort and quickly stepped in. “Alright, ladies,” she said with a clap of her hands, “time to make an entrance.” She motioned toward the elevator. “The carpet’s waiting, and so is the world.”
Sonya chuckled, stepping back and offering her arm to Lingling. “Come on, superstar.”
Lingling gave her a grateful smile and linked arms with Sonya, thankful for the distraction.
P’Mam led the way as they walked toward the elevator, the hum of anticipation filling the air. Lingling’s heart pounded in her chest—not just from the cameras waiting outside, but from the quiet weight of everything left unsaid.
The doors slid open, and as they stepped in, P’Mam pressed the button for the lobby. Lingling caught her reflection in the mirrored walls—poised, elegant, ready for the spotlight.
But beneath the surface, her heart whispered a familiar name.
Orm.
The elevator began its descent, and with it came the realization that no amount of lights, cameras, or applause could ever fill the space where Orm still lived in her heart. But tonight wasn’t about mending what was broken—it was about taking the next step forward, no matter how heavy it felt.
The hum of the elevator doors opening was drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. The flash of cameras exploded like fireworks, bathing the lobby in bursts of white light as Lingling and Sonya stepped forward.
The entrance to the red carpet was a glowing pathway flanked by fans pressed against the barriers, waving signs, banners, and photos. Some were holding light sticks with Lingling’s initials, while others had matching shirts featuring her and Sonya from their teaser photo. The energy was electric, almost overwhelming.
The moment Lingling stepped onto the red carpet, the crowd erupted.
“P’Ling! P’Ling!” Voices screamed her name from every direction. The excitement rippled like a tidal wave.
Sonya stayed close by her side, her smile as dazzling as the spotlights. She leaned in just enough for Lingling to hear her above the noise. “Told you they’d fall at your feet.”
Lingling laughed, though the sound was swallowed up by the roar around her. She paused for a moment, letting herself soak it all in—the fans’ cheers, the camera lenses zooming in, the energy buzzing in the air.
P’Mam appeared nearby, directing the photographers to get their shots. Lingling and Sonya stepped toward the marked spot at the center of the carpet, where reporters and photographers were stationed.
The two actresses turned slightly, posing together as a coordinated wave of camera shutters clicked in unison.
"Beautiful! Look here!"
"Sonya! Lingling! Over here!"
The photographers’ calls overlapped as Lingling adjusted her posture, smiling effortlessly while Sonya placed a hand on her back in a friendly but protective gesture.
The screams intensified as a fan group began chanting. “LingSonya! LingSonya!”
Lingling felt her heart skip for a second—not because of the noise, but because of the complicated mix of pride and guilt twisting inside her. She could hear their excitement, but all she could think of was what if this had been Orm beside me?
Sonya seemed to sense her momentary distraction and gave her a nudge. “Stay with me.”
Lingling glanced at her and nodded. Stay in the moment. She could feel Sonya's steady presence next to her, anchoring her when her mind threatened to wander.
The reporter section came into view, their microphones raised and their faces eager.
“P’Ling! What’s it like working with Sonya?”
“Did you expect the fan reaction to be this big after the teaser?”
“P’Sonya, what’s your favorite thing about working with Lingling?”
Sonya leaned toward the nearest microphone, flashing her signature grin. “Honestly? She’s amazing. So professional, so beautiful, so talented—” she turned to Lingling with a teasing glint in her eyes—“and so humble.”
The reporters laughed as Lingling rolled her eyes playfully. “She’s exaggerating.”
“Not at all,” Sonya countered, her expression warm.
Another reporter’s question cut through the air: “Do you think this movie will define your career, P’Ling?”
Lingling paused, her smile softening. She thought of everything that had led her to this moment—Italy, the Only You tour, and that painful night at the bar. And finally, Orm.
“I think,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “this movie means a lot to me... because it represents a new chapter. I’m proud of the work we’ve done, and I hope it resonates with people.”
The reporters murmured their approval, and the fans screamed louder.
Sonya gave her a small nod, almost as if saying, Good answer.
P’Mam signaled them to move along the carpet as the flow of arrivals continued. Lingling and Sonya posed for a final set of photos before making their way toward the theater entrance. The excitement in the air felt like a living, breathing thing—buzzing, pulling them forward.
As they reached the entrance, Lingling stole one last glance over her shoulder at the crowd. She saw the fans waving their signs and calling her name, their excitement like a warm wave crashing over her.
Orm point of view
The golden hues of sunset bathed the entrance of the theater as Orm’s sleek black car came to a slow stop. The gathered fans erupted into wild cheers the moment the event’s LED banner above the venue flashed the title: Whispers in the Fog .
Inside the car, Orm took a deep breath, adjusting the cuff of her emerald green gown. The fabric shimmered like starlight—elegant and hauntingly beautiful, the perfect nod to the eerie aesthetic of the film.
The door opened, and the sound was deafening.
“P’Orm! P’Orm! Over here!”
Orm stepped out gracefully, the cool evening air brushing against her skin as the crowd surged with excitement. The fans were waving signs, holding up photos of her character from the movie, and screaming her name. She offered a dazzling smile, raising her hand in a small wave.
Behind her, the rest of the main cast arrived one by one. Alek emerged in a tailored black suit with a subtle sheen that caught the light. His trademark grin was already working its magic on the photographers.
Bow followed in an ethereal lavender gown, her sleek hair framing her face perfectly. James stepped out next, his sharp tuxedo making him look every bit the classic leading man. Finally, Nychaa exited her car in a sleek silver dress, her confident stride earning wild cheers.
The crowd chanted as they walked toward the carpet together.
"Whispers in the Fog! Whispers in the Fog!”
Bow linked arms with Orm, giving her a reassuring smile. “You ready for this?”
Orm exhaled slowly. “Yeah... I think so.”
The cast reached the center of the red carpet and posed together, the cameras flashing like lightning.
"Orm! Bow! Over here!”
“Alek, give us a smile!”
“Nychaa, James—together, please!”
They shifted seamlessly into position, each strike of a pose timed perfectly. The energy was palpable, and for a moment, Orm let herself enjoy the chaos.
A reporter stepped forward with a microphone.
“P’Orm, this is your first lead role in a horror movie. How did you prepare for such an intense project?”
Orm smiled, holding the microphone with poise. “I immersed myself in the story. I read every detail about my character’s backstory and worked closely with the director to understand her fear and strength. But honestly, having such an incredible cast by my side made it easier.”
James nodded with a playful smirk. “She makes it sound easy, but she was the heart of this film. We all looked up to her.”
The crowd erupted again in cheers.
Another reporter raised a hand. “P’Orm, how does it feel knowing your premiere is happening at the same time as P’Lingling’s? The fans are calling it the battle of the year.”
The question felt like a punch in the chest, but Orm’s expression didn’t falter. She knew this question was coming.
“I don’t see it as a competition,” she replied, her voice steady but kind. “I think both films have something unique to offer. I’m proud of what we’ve created, and I wish her the best with her premiere.”
Bow gave Orm a subtle squeeze on the arm as they moved past the press line.
“You handled that like a pro,” Bow whispered.
Orm smiled, though the answer still echoed in her mind. Is she thinking about me too?
At the entrance to the theater, they posed for one last photo as a group. The lights flashed around them, creating an almost dreamlike glow.
As they stepped inside, the noise faded behind the doors, replaced by the low hum of conversation from VIP guests and industry insiders.
Alek turned to Orm, his expression thoughtful. “Big night.”
Orm nodded, slipping into her role as the confident lead. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”
But as the lights dimmed and the first scene flickered across the massive screen, Orm’s mind wandered. No matter how loud the applause or how bright the spotlight, one question still lingered in the corners of her heart.
Is Lingling watching? And if she is... what is she thinking?
_________________________________________________________________________
The credits for Whispers in the Fog began to roll as the theater erupted in applause. The final haunting melody faded out, leaving only the sound of the audience’s excitement. People rose to their feet, clapping and cheering. The cast exchanged proud smiles, soaking in the overwhelming response.
Orm stayed seated for a moment, staring at the screen as her name appeared in bold letters:
Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong as Ariya
A strange mix of pride and exhaustion washed over her. This was everything she’d worked for—the standing ovation, the admiration, the validation. Yet, as the applause filled the theater, her heart felt distant, like part of it was still somewhere else.
Bow leaned over, nudging Orm’s shoulder. “We did it.”
Orm smiled softly. “Yeah... we did.”
Alek flashed a grin as he passed by. “They’re going to be talking about this movie for years.”
James raised a hand to the crowd before turning back to Orm and the cast. “Let’s soak this in. It’s your moment.”
Nychaa gave Orm a quick hug. “See you at the afterparty?”
Orm hesitated, glancing at the buzzing crowd. The afterparty would be filled with excitement, music, and noise—but tonight, it wasn’t what she needed.
“I think I’ll pass,” Orm said gently. “I just want some quiet.”
Nychaa gave her a knowing nod. “I get it.”
As the audience began filing out, Orm spotted Mae standing at the end of the row, her face glowing with pride.
The night air was cooler than usual as Orm and Mae stepped out of the theater. The noise of the city felt distant compared to the warmth of Mae’s steady presence.
Mae glanced over as they got into the car. “You were incredible tonight,” she said softly.
Orm’s lips curved into a small smile. “Thanks, Mae.”
The car pulled away from the theater, the flashing lights and cheers fading behind them. Orm leaned her head against the window, watching the city lights blur past.
Mae broke the comfortable silence after a moment. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to... but I noticed something tonight.”
Orm turned her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
Mae’s gaze was gentle but perceptive. “Every time they asked about Ling... you got this look on your face. Like you were somewhere else entirely.”
Orm’s breath caught, and she looked down at her hands. “I thought I was past it, Mae. I thought this would be enough—the movie, the applause, everything I’ve worked for.” She exhaled shakily. “But it still feels... incomplete.”
Mae reached over and took Orm’s hand. “That’s because success can’t fill the spaces where love used to be.”
Orm felt the sting of tears but blinked them away. “I wish I didn’t still care.”
Mae brushed her thumb over Orm’s knuckles in a soothing motion. “Caring doesn’t make you weak. It just makes you human.”
Orm closed her eyes for a moment, letting the truth of Mae’s words settle. She had spent so long trying to prove to herself that she could be whole without Ling—that her work could fill the emptiness. But tonight, after everything, the ache still remained.
Mae smiled softly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”
Orm nodded. “I know.”
The rest of the ride was quiet, but not lonely. Mae’s hand remained in hers, a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t alone.
When they reached home, Orm stepped out and took a deep breath of the cool night air. The stars above were faint but steady—a quiet reminder that life was vast and ever-changing.
Mae looped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders as they walked inside. “You’ve done something incredible tonight,” Mae whispered. “Don’t forget that.”
Orm gave a soft nod, her heart still heavy but a little lighter with her mother by her side.
She slipped off her heels, letting out a long breath as the warmth of home settled over her. The quiet of her room was comforting, yet it only magnified the noise in her heart. She reached for her phone, her thumb hovering over Lingling’s contact for a long moment.
The temptation to type something—anything—was brief but powerful. But in the end, she set the phone down and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of the night pressed down on her.
She told herself she needed rest. But sleep never came.
Minutes ticked by until she gave up, picking up her phone again to scroll mindlessly through social media. Notifications filled her screen—tweets, tags, and stories praising her performance in Whispers in the Fog . Fans were posting clips from the premiere, screenshots of the film, and heartfelt messages.
But her breath caught when she saw the number one trending topic:
#LingSonya
Her heart clenched. She hesitated before clicking, but the curiosity—and the ache—won out.
The hashtag was flooded with photos and videos from Lingling’s premiere. The first clip was a high-definition video of Lingling and Sonya stepping onto the red carpet, hand in hand. The crowd’s screams were deafening even through the video. Lingling, dressed in her sleek white gown, looked breathtaking. And Sonya, beside her in navy blue, was effortlessly radiant.
They looked stunning together. Orm couldn’t deny it. She could see why people were captivated—why they believed in them .
Her thumb hovered over the replay button, but she shut off the screen instead, tossing the phone onto her pillow. The lump in her throat tightened.
Why does it still hurt this much?
Orm buried her face into the blanket, willing the ache to dull. But the truth was there, stark and unchanging. Lingling was out there in the spotlight, dazzling the world with someone else.
And Orm hated that thought.
She should be the one holding Ling’s hand. She should have been the one standing by her side, soaking in the lights, the noise, the cheers. Instead, she had let it slip away.
She should’ve done what Ling had expected from her that night—should’ve fought for them when it mattered most. But no. Instead, she had pulled away, shutting down when Ling had needed her the most. Instead of healing what was fragile between them, she had shattered it completely.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the memory came rushing back—the way Ling’s voice had trembled, the way her eyes had filled with tears that Orm could’ve stopped.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she’d chosen words meant to push Ling away, to wound, to make her leave first. Orm had wanted to protect herself from the pain of losing her—but all she did was break them both.
Her chest ached as she buried herself deeper into the blanket. The past felt like a shadow that never quite left her.
And now, the world was enamored with Ling and Sonya—the perfect pair under the spotlight. Orm knew she had no one to blame but herself.
The hardest part wasn’t the crowd cheering for #LingSonya. It wasn’t even the way they looked together on the red carpet.
The hardest part was knowing that Lingling had once wanted to hold her hand—and Orm had let go.
Flashback, two days after the party when Orm went with Popor
Two days after the party, Lingling stood in front of Orm’s door, her heart pounding as she raised her hand to knock. The hallway was quiet, but the storm in her chest was deafening.
She knocked firmly, then again when there was no response.
Finally, the door opened.
There she was—Orm, standing in the dim doorway, wearing an old hoodie and shorts. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow as if she hadn’t slept.
Lingling’s breath caught as she took in the sight of her. She’d been bracing herself for answers, but now all she felt was worry.
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” Lingling whispered. “Where were you, Orm? I went to your place that night—I waited for you... but you never came home.” Her voice cracked. “I needed to see you before you leave.”
Orm’s fingers tightened on the doorframe. “You waited for me?”
Lingling nodded as she stepped inside, brushing past Orm. “Of course, I did. I thought something had happened to you. You just disappeared.”
Orm shut the door quietly and leaned against it. The weight of Lingling’s words pressed down on her chest. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
Lingling turned, her eyes brimming with frustration and pain. “Sorry isn’t enough, Orm. Do you have any idea what went through my mind that night?”
Orm dropped her gaze. She knew Ling deserved answers, but the truth felt messy and uncertain.
Lingling hesitated, her voice softening. “Please, just tell me... where did you go?”
Orm’s throat tightened. “I... I was at Popor’s.”
The air in the room seemed to shift. Lingling’s expression twisted with disbelief. “Popor’s? Why?”
Orm didn’t answer right away. The memories from that night were hazy, like trying to grasp smoke. She remembered the burn of alcohol in her veins, the pounding music, and the way she and Popor had ended up alone on the balcony.
She remembered kissing her. Or maybe it was Popor who kissed her first. The details blurred in her mind.
“I... I don’t remember everything,” Orm finally admitted, her voice hoarse. “I remember... we kissed. I was drunk, Ling. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Lingling’s breath caught, tears pooling in her eyes. “But did you... did something more happen?”
Orm’s silence was deafening. She shook her head slowly but didn’t speak. The truth was, she wasn’t sure.
Lingling’s voice broke. “You don’t even know? Are you kidding me right now Orm?”
Orm’s heart clenched as she saw the devastation in Lingling’s face, she wanted to tell her no, that she didn’t sleep with Poporbut she wasn’t sure 100%. “If I could take it back, I would. I swear, Ling... I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Lingling stepped back, arms wrapping around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. “You should’ve come home to me.”
“I know,” Orm whispered. “But I was scared. I felt like I’d already ruined everything... so I ran.”
Lingling let out a shaky, bitter laugh. “You thought it was better to let me believe you chose her?”
Orm wiped at her face, her vision blurring with tears. “I wasn’t trying to choose her over you. I just... I didn’t know how to face you, how to face us.”
Lingling’s lips trembled as she stared at Orm, the weight of it all crashing down. “I was there, Orm. I was waiting for you. All you had to do was come home.”
Orm took a step forward. “Ling, please—”
But Lingling took a step back. “No.” Her voice cracked. “You broke something in me that night. And the worst part is... you don’t even remember how.”
Orm’s tears spilled over. “I’m so sorry.”
Lingling’s shoulders shook as she wiped her face. “I can’t do this anymore, Orm. You’re leaving tomorrow, and maybe... maybe that’s for the best.”
Orm’s heart shattered at the finality in Lingling’s voice. The door clicked shut behind her.
Orm stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway. Then, as the silence engulfed her, she sank to the floor, covering her face with her hands.
The memory of Lingling’s retreating footsteps echoed in her mind. She had lost the one person she loved most—and the worst part was that she didn’t even remember how she’d broken it all apart.
End of flashback
Ling point of view
Lingling took a deep breath as she stepped into the theater, the noise from the red carpet fading behind the grand glass doors. The cool air-conditioning brushed against her skin, calming the warmth left behind by the flashing lights and roaring fans.
She followed Sonya and P’Mam down the long carpeted hallway toward the auditorium. Reporters and photographers were still buzzing outside, but inside, it was quieter—a brief moment of calm before the storm of the premiere.
As they passed the large movie poster, Lingling’s gaze caught on her own face—her character, bold and unwavering, staring back at her.
The symbolism wasn’t lost on her. This movie wasn’t just about a role—it was a chapter of her life that she was choosing to rewrite. Yet, in the quiet of her heart, that familiar ache remained.
They reached their reserved seats near the front row. Sonya plopped down beside her with a playful sigh, adjusting the skirt of her navy-blue gown. "That was intense.”
Lingling smiled faintly as she settled into her seat. “Yeah.”
P’Mam leaned over from the other side, her gaze softening. “You were amazing out there.”
Lingling nodded her thanks, but her mind wandered. The excitement from the crowd had been incredible—but she’d felt the weight of the night pressing on her from the moment she stepped out of the car.
And now that she was sitting still, she couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who wasn’t there.
Orm.
She wondered where Orm was now. Was she sitting in her own theater across the city, watching the screen as the audience reacted to her movie? Or was she somewhere quiet, thinking about the past, the way Lingling was?
Her chest tightened as the memory of their last encounter resurfaced—the way Orm had looked at her, filled with regret but too broken to fight for them.
Lingling clenched her hands in her lap. She had spent so long waiting—waiting for Orm to come back, to say something, to make the first move. But Orm never did.
Maybe she never will.
Sonya nudged her lightly. “You okay?”
Lingling blinked and forced a small smile. “Yeah, just... taking it all in.”
Sonya gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned in close enough for only Lingling to hear. “No matter what you’re thinking, remember that you’re here because you deserve to be.”
Lingling’s smile became a little more real. “Thanks, Sonya.”
The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the movie. The audience hushed, and the first notes of the soundtrack filled the theater. Lingling took a deep breath and straightened in her seat, focusing on the screen as the opening scene began to unfold.
But even as the film pulled her in, a part of her remained elsewhere—wondering if Orm was thinking of her too.
_________________________________________________________________________
The city outside was quiet now, the buzz of the premieres fading into the late-night hum of Bangkok. Lingling sat cross-legged on her couch, still in her gown, though she’d kicked off her heels the moment she walked through the door.
The soft glow of her phone screen lit up her face as she scrolled through social media. Her notifications were endless—tags from fans, reposts of red carpet photos, clips of her speech. The overwhelming praise should’ve made her feel proud.
But that wasn’t why she was scrolling.
She paused when she saw the trending hashtag: #WhispersInTheFog
Her breath caught, and her thumb hovered over the link. Slowly, she tapped it, and her feed flooded with photos and videos from Orm’s premiere.
The first clip showed Orm stepping onto the red carpet in her emerald green gown, alone but radiant. The cameras flashed wildly as the crowd screamed her name. Orm stood tall, her expression calm, poised. But Lingling noticed the familiar stiffness in her shoulders—the way she squared herself when she was trying to hide her nerves.
Lingling’s heart twisted. She could almost hear Orm’s voice in her head, the soft, sleepy voice she’d fallen in love with during their late-night calls.
She scrolled further and saw another clip—Orm standing under the spotlight as reporters gathered around her. She smiled politely, answered their questions with grace, and posed for photos alone. There was no one holding her hand, no one there to share the weight of it all. She was handling everything on her own.
But what broke Lingling wasn’t that Orm was alone tonight—it was the memory of why they were apart in the first place.
Lingling’s thumb hovered over another photo—a stunning close-up of Orm as she entered the theater, her face half-lit by the marquee. The caption read:
"Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong carried tonight’s premiere with grace and elegance."
But all Lingling could see was that night—the night Orm hadn’t come home.
The unanswered calls, the unanswered door... and the truth that shattered everything between them: Orm had gone to Popor.
Lingling felt the familiar ache deepen in her chest as she whispered, “Why her, Orm?”
She still couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t believe Orm had given something so intimate, so precious— her first time —to someone else. The betrayal still burned in her heart like an open wound and she couldn’t believe it was true, she hadn’t really heard it from Orm herself, but she heard the rumors.
She’d replayed it in her head so many times, trying to make sense of it. She wanted to believe Orm had been too drunk, too confused to understand what she was doing. But even if nothing more had happened than what Orm admitted— a kiss, a moment she couldn’t remember —it had still felt like the deepest betrayal.
Lingling wiped away a tear as it slid down her cheek. “I would’ve waited for you forever.”
She leaned her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as the memories pulled her under. She had spent so long convincing herself she was strong enough to move on.
But no matter how hard she tried, one thought always remained:
She gave something to Popor that should’ve been ours.
Lingling closed her eyes as the weight of it pressed down on her. The applause and praise from tonight meant nothing if she couldn’t let go of the one thing she never wanted to lose—her love for Orm.
But how could she let go of someone who still owned her heart, even after all this time?