You are mine

Three weeks had passed since the premieres of You Are Mine and Whispers in the Fog.

The buzz surrounding both films had reached a fever pitch. Social media was still filled with fan edits, clips, and endless debates about which movie had delivered the most unforgettable moments. Critics praised Orm's haunting performance as Ariya, calling it a career-defining role, while Lingling and Sonya’s on-screen chemistry in You Are Mine had cemented them as household names.

Ling point of view

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Lingling’s apartment, soft and golden. She sat at her kitchen counter, scrolling idly through her phone while sipping her coffee.

The news was everywhere: both films were smashing box-office records, with glowing reviews still pouring in. Yet, for Lingling, it all felt distant. The spotlight had faded slightly, but the ache in her chest hadn’t.

Her phone buzzed with a notification—another mention from a fan account. She opened it without thinking and saw a side-by-side comparison: her character and Orm’s, two powerful stills from their respective films.

The caption read:

"Two icons, two unforgettable performances."

Lingling’s lips pressed into a thin line. The fans still linked them, even when their lives were miles apart.

She exhaled and locked her phone, setting it down as she stared into her coffee. Despite the success, she couldn’t shake the lingering question that had haunted her since the premiere—had Orm watched her film? And if she had... what had she thought?

Orm pov

On the other side of the city, Orm sat on the small balcony of her condo, staring out at the Bangkok skyline. The air was crisp for once, a rare cool breeze cutting through the morning heat.

Her phone sat untouched on the table beside her. She knew there were dozens of messages she hadn’t answered—interview requests, congratulations from directors, and fans still raving about her role as Ariya.

She should have felt on top of the world. Instead, she felt hollow.

The night of the premiere had been the peak of her career. She had smiled for the cameras, answered every question with poise, and made it look effortless. But when she had returned home alone, the silence had reminded her of everything she’d lost.

Her fingers hovered over her phone, and before she could stop herself, she unlocked it and opened the streaming app. You Are Mine was already there, available to rent.

Her thumb hovered over the "play" button for a long moment.

Did she really want to do this? To see Lingling again, even if it was just on a screen?

Orm closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pressed play.

The screen filled with soft, golden cinematography as Lingling appeared in the first scene, her face calm but distant—her character’s quiet strength unmistakable.

Orm’s breath caught in her throat. It had been so long since she’d seen Ling like this, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

Ling’s character was magnetic, her presence effortlessly drawing Orm in. But what really twisted her heart was the tenderness in Lingling’s eyes during the intimate scenes—the same tenderness Orm remembered seeing when they were alone, when Ling had looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Orm’s heart clenched when the first kiss scene appeared on screen. Sonya’s character leaned in, her hand brushing Ling’s cheek before their lips met. It was beautifully acted, subtle yet emotional. The fans were right—the chemistry between them was incredible. But instead of envy, Orm felt a sharp pang of regret.

Because she remembered what it had felt like to be on the receiving end of that kind of closeness—and she had thrown it all away.

When the movie ended, Orm sat frozen, staring at the credits as they rolled. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She whispered softly to the empty room, “You’re amazing, Ling.”

Ling pov

Across the city, Lingling curled up on her couch with a steaming cup of coffee balanced in her hands. The familiar Netflix logo appeared on the screen as she hovered over Whispers in the Fog.

She’d avoided watching it since the premiere, telling herself it was because she wanted to stay neutral. But deep down, she knew the real reason—she wasn’t ready to see Orm like that.

But this morning, she couldn’t resist. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was something else.

She pressed play, and the movie began.

The opening scene showed Orm’s character, Ariya, standing alone in a dense fog, her face framed by shadows. She looked terrified but determined, her vulnerability bleeding through the screen.

Lingling’s heart tightened. Orm had always been good—brilliant, even—but this was different. Her performance was raw, haunting, mesmerizing.

As the story unfolded, Ling watched Ariya’s descent into fear and isolation. She noticed the small nuances in Orm’s acting—the way her hands trembled slightly, the way her voice cracked when she screamed for help.

It wasn’t just acting. It was Orm, baring her soul.

By the time the movie reached its devastating climax, Lingling was gripping the edge of her blanket, barely breathing. When the screen faded to black and the credits began to roll, she realized she was crying.

She wiped her tears and whispered, “You’ve always been extraordinary.”

She sat in the quiet for a long time, processing everything she had just seen. The ache in her chest was back, stronger than ever.

Orm had poured everything into this film—but she had always given that same intensity to the people she loved.

 The morning after watching Whispers in the Fog had passed in a haze. Lingling had felt like she’d been dragged into Ariya’s nightmare herself—the loneliness, the fear, and the haunting rawness in Orm’s performance had struck her to her core.

She had seen Orm vulnerable in real life, but this was different. On screen, Orm had laid her soul bare, and the world applauded her for it. But Lingling knew the truth—that kind of pain didn’t come from acting alone.

The last scene—the moment Ariya faced the fog and let go—stayed with Lingling. It felt like Orm’s way of saying something that Ling herself hadn’t been ready to hear.

As the day went on, Lingling tried to shake the heaviness from her chest. She knew the Dior event would be full of glamor and expectations, but tonight wasn’t about the press or the gowns—it was about surviving the inevitable.

Orm would be there.

And for the first time in years, they’d be in the same room, which frighten her.

Lingling adjusted her sunglasses as she stepped into the Dior boutique where the brand ambassadors were gathering. The boutique was bathed in soft, elegant light, the mirrored walls reflecting racks of couture gowns and displays of iconic handbags.

She was greeted warmly by Dior’s team and led to a private lounge upstairs, where several ambassadors were already chatting over champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

Lingling’s heart was still heavy, but she had perfected the art of masking her emotions. She smiled and nodded politely as she moved through the room, but her thoughts were miles away.

She spotted Sonya arriving a few minutes later, effortlessly chic in a Dior two-piece ensemble. Sonya caught her gaze, flashed a bright smile, and made her way over.

“Ling! There you are,” Sonya said as she approached, slipping her arm around Lingling in a friendly hug.

Lingling returned the gesture, grateful for the support. “Hey, Sonya.”

Sonya leaned back, studying her. “Are you okay? You look... distant.”

Lingling gave a small, tired smile. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Sonya’s expression softened but a tinge of jealousy could be heard. “Is it because of her?”

Lingling hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Sonya sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she took Lingling’s hand briefly and squeezed it. “Whatever happens tonight, remember—you’re not alone.”

Lingling nodded, grateful for Sonya’s steady presence. “Thanks, Sonya.I’m happy to be here with you”

A member of the Dior team entered the room, signaling for the ambassadors to head to the event venue. The cars were waiting downstairs.

Sonya slipped her arm through Lingling’s, giving her a small nudge. “Come on. Time to shine.”

Lingling nodded, forcing herself to breathe as they made their way out of the boutique and into the awaiting black Dior SUVs.

Orm point of view

Orm’s heart raced as her car cruised through the busy streets of Bangkok. The Dior event venue was only minutes away, but the day’s emotions hadn’t settled.

Watching You Are Mine earlier that morning had unraveled something inside her. Seeing Lingling onscreen, raw and luminous, had brought back everything she’d tried to forget. The way Ling’s eyes softened when she was vulnerable, the quiet strength in her character’s silence—it all felt so familiar.

And now, she was minutes away from facing her in real life.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Mae:

"You look stunning tonight. Be proud of yourself, no matter what happens."

Orm smiled faintly as she put her phone away. Mae’s unwavering belief in her always steadied her nerves.

As the car slowed at the entrance, Orm saw the glimmer of lights and the throngs of fans and reporters lining the venue’s steps. Her breath caught as she stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against her skin.

The emerald green Dior gown shimmered under the spotlights, catching the attention of photographers and fans alike. The crowd roared, their excitement palpable.

“P’Orm! P’Orm! Over here!”

The cameras flashed relentlessly as she walked gracefully toward the entrance, offering small waves and nods to the press.

Her heart pounded, but not from the cameras.

Orm adjusted her clutch as she stepped into the grand entrance hall of the venue. The Dior event was breathtaking—the Chao Phraya River shimmered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the interior was adorned with lush floral arrangements in shades of white and gold. The chandeliers overhead sparkled like constellations, casting a soft glow over the glamorous crowd.

Orm paused for a moment, taking it all in—the luxury, the excitement, the hum of conversation. But despite the stunning surroundings, her thoughts kept drifting. She knew Lingling would be here soon, and the anticipation was like a quiet storm building inside her.

She was about to step further inside when a familiar voice called out.

“N’Orm!”

Orm turned and smiled as she saw Namtan and Film approaching. Namtan, one of Dior’s most beloved ambassadors, was dressed in a stunning white asymmetrical gown with feathered accents, while Film wore a sharp black tuxedo with subtle silver embellishments.

Namtan reached Orm first, pulling her into a warm hug. “You look incredible tonight!”

Orm laughed softly, returning the hug. “You’re one to talk—you look like you stepped out of a dream.”

Namtan beamed, linking her arm through Orm’s as Film joined them, offering a polite nod and a grin. “N’Orm, you’re stealing the spotlight already,” Film teased.

“Please,” Orm said with a small smirk. “I’m just trying to survive the night.”

Namtan tilted her head curiously. “You mean because of her?”

Orm’s smile faltered, but she didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

Film exchanged a glance with Namatan, her playful demeanor softening. “You haven’t seen her in a long time, have you?”

Orm shook her head. “No. Not since... the end of Only You.”

Namtan squeezed Orm’s arm gently. “It’s okay. You’re stronger now than you were then and don’t forget you need to speak with her one day or the other.”

Orm’s throat tightened, but she nodded. “I hope so, I hope I’ll handle it well.”

Film glanced toward the entrance as the next wave of guests arrived, but Lingling wasn’t among them yet. He gave Orm a reassuring pat on the back. “If things get overwhelming, we’re here. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Orm felt a small warmth in her chest. She’d spent so long distancing herself from others, trying to carry everything alone. But Namtan and Film’s quiet support reminded her that she wasn’t as isolated as she thought.

“Thanks, both of you,” she said sincerely.

Namtan smiled brightly. “Now, come on—let’s grab a drink before the real madness starts.”

Orm let herself be led further into the event, trying to focus on the present. But deep down, she knew that every step brought her closer to the moment she’d been dreading—and hoping for.

Because eventually, Lingling would walk through that door. And when she did, there would be no turning back.

After a few minutes at the bar, Orm froze. Popor walked in with effortless confidence, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with satin lapels that shimmered subtly under the lights. Her red lips curved into that same familiar, self-assured smile that Orm had grown to resent.

She exuded charm, looking every bit the star she wanted the world to see. But to Orm, Popor’s presence was suffocating—a reminder of that night and the lies that followed.

Orm felt her stomach twist as Popor approached, her eyes locking on Orm with a smug softness that only made things worse.

“N’Orm,” Popor greeted smoothly, her voice low and intimate. “You look breathtaking tonight.”

Orm’s jaw tightened, and she didn’t return the smile. The sound of Popor’s voice was enough to make her feel the sting of old wounds and make her feel sick.

Namtan shifted closer, her protective instincts flaring as she noticed the tension in Orm’s posture.

Popor’s gaze lingered as she continued, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”

Orm’s hand curled around her glass. She forced herself to remain calm, though every nerve in her body screamed for her to walk away. “I haven’t” she replied, her voice clipped.

Popor tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Good to know.”

Namtan stepped in, her tone sharp but polite. “Well, tonight’s about celebrating, not digging up the past, you should go Popor.”

Freen and Becky had noticed the exchange from across the room and were already making their way over. Popor seemed to sense the shift in the air and gave a small, knowing smile.

“Of course,” Popor said smoothly. “No hard feelings, right?” Her gaze was heavy with implication as she met Orm’s eyes.

Orm felt her pulse quicken, but she refused to give Popor the satisfaction of reacting. She stepped back abruptly, placing her glass on the bar. “Excuse me,” she muttered before turning away.

Namatan followed Orm, worry etched across her face. “Are you okay?”

Orm shook her head, gripping the edge of the bar as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “She has the nerve to act like everything’s fine.”

Namatan’s brow furrowed. “You mean... what she said after that night?”

Orm’s throat tightened. “She told everyone we slept together.” Her voice cracked as she added, “And Ling... Ling believed it.”

Namatan’s eyes widened in shock, but before she could say anything, Freen and Becky appeared beside them.

Freen gave Orm a reassuring nod. “You don’t have to deal with her.”

Becky crossed her arms, her gaze following Popor. “I can’t believe she showed up.”

Orm exhaled shakily. “She ruined everything, and she doesn’t even care.”

Namatan placed a gentle hand on Orm’s shoulder. “Then don’t let her ruin tonight, too.”

Orm nodded, though her heart was still racing. She wanted to believe she was strong enough to face the past.

But as the room erupted in cheers, signaling Lingling’s arrival, Orm felt everything she’d been holding back threaten to unravel.

Lingling’s here, and with her.

Her heart ached with the weight of memories—and the fear of everything that was about to come to light. She wants to see her, her heart is aching for too long and she needs to tell her the truth before it is too late.

Ling point of view

The flashes of cameras felt like stars bursting as Lingling and Sonya reached the center of the red carpet, their gowns shimmering under the soft glow of the event lights. The journalists, sensing an unforgettable moment, leaned forward, their voices rising in excitement.

“P’Ling! P’Ling! How does it feel to be Dior’s ambassador tonight?”

“Sonya, what’s it like standing beside P’Ling again? Your chemistry on-screen was unforgettable!”

Sonya gave a charming smile and answered smoothly, “It’s always inspiring working with P’Ling—she’s incredible in everything she does.”

The reporters ate it up, their pens scribbling furiously, but the energy shifted when one voice rose above the others:

“P’Ling, how do you feel about P’Orm’s presence tonight? Both of you at Dior’s biggest event—is it fate, coincidence... or something else?”

The crowd hushed slightly, anticipation thick in the air.

Lingling’s breath caught. For a moment, she felt her composure slip—but only for a moment. Her diplomatic smile returned as she prepared to answer. But before she could, Sonya spoke first.

Her voice was calm but resolute, cutting through the tension. “Orm belongs to the past.”

The murmurs from the reporters swelled with interest, while the crowd behind the barriers exchanged surprised glances.

Lingling’s smile didn’t falter, but inside, something cracked. She hadn’t expected that. Sonya’s tone was firm, but not cruel—just final.

The reporter raised their mic again, but Sonya wasn’t finished. “Tonight is about celebrating what’s happening now, not holding on to things that are long over.”

Lingling felt the air shift. Sonya had answered with the kind of clarity Lingling had never dared to voice out loud. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with it—or if it hurt because part of her did.

But she didn’t say anything. She simply smiled and let Sonya guide her through the last round of photos before they entered the venue.

The grand hall was buzzing with conversations and soft laughter, the clink of champagne glasses echoing beneath the soft melody of the live string quartet. The Chao Phraya River outside glimmered like scattered stars, but Lingling barely noticed the breathtaking view.

Her smile stayed in place as she and Sonya made their way further into the room. She felt the weight of the crowd’s eyes, the curiosity lingering in their glances. Everyone was waiting, expecting something—an interaction, a moment of acknowledgment.

But Lingling didn’t look.

She knew where Orm was without needing to check. She felt it. The unexplainable pull that hadn’t lessened with time.

Instead, she focused on Sonya’s voice as they made their way to greet the Dior creative director.

Sonya, unaware of how much Lingling was unraveling inside, glanced toward Orm and muttered, “She’s looking at you.”

Lingling’s heart skipped a beat. Against her better judgment, she turned her head slightly.

Orm’s gaze met hers—steady but unreadable. And in that moment, the entire room seemed to fall away again.

But Sonya’s words from earlier echoed in Lingling’s mind. “Orm belongs to the past.”

Lingling forced herself to look away first, offering a light laugh at something Sonya said—though she hadn’t heard a word. She straightened her posture, clinging to the role she’d perfected over the years—the calm, collected version of herself.

But she knew the truth.

The past was still here. And Orm wasn’t just a memory—she was a heartbeat that Lingling couldn’t forget, no matter how many years had passed.

And tonight, she wasn’t sure if she’d survive seeing her again.

Orm point of view

At the bar near the side of the room, Orm kept her focus locked on the glass of water in her hand, though her thoughts were spiraling somewhere far away—somewhere closer to the silver-clad figure moving gracefully across the room.

Lingling.

She hadn’t looked at Orm once. Not when she walked in, not during the applause, not even in passing glances. Her indifference was like a cold slap to the face, and it hurt more than Orm wanted to admit.

Next to her, Namtan and Film exchanged concerned glances. They could see it—the way Orm’s jaw clenched just a little too tight, the way her shoulders tensed every time Lingling and Sonya stopped to greet someone else.

Film, ever blunt, took a long sip of her champagne and leaned in. “Does she know the truth about Popor?”

Orm flinched at the question, her fingers tightening around the glass. “No.”

Namtan blinked in surprise. “You’ve never told her? Really N’Orm?”

Orm shook her head slowly. “How could I? She wouldn’t have believed me back then.” She let out a bitter laugh, her voice heavy with regret. “Everyone believed Popor. Even Ling.”

Film set her glass down with a quiet clink. “You’re telling me that she still thinks you slept with Popor?”

Orm nodded, the weight of the lie suffocating her. “Yes.”

Namtan’s eyes softened with disbelief. “After all this time...?”

Orm’s throat tightened. “It’s not like I had a chance to clear it up. She left. I left. And by the time I figured out what Popor had done... it was too late, we were not talking anymore.”

Film leaned against the bar, her expression unreadable but her eyes burning with frustration. “So she’s been angry at you for something that didn’t even happen.”

Orm exhaled shakily. “Yeah but I can’t blame her, at the time I didn’t know the entire truth...”

Namtan hesitated, glancing at Lingling across the room. Her expression was hard to read—her smile was there, but there was an edge to it, like she was barely holding something back.

“She’s not scared, Orm,” Namtan said softly.

Orm’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“She’s angry,” Namtan continued. “She’s been angry for years. And if she knew the truth... do you really think she’d be able to look at you the way she does now?”

Orm followed Namtan’s gaze, watching Lingling laugh at something one of the Dior executives said—but the laugh didn’t sound right. It was too precise, too perfect.

Film’s voice was calm but sharp. “You need to tell her.”

Orm’s breath caught. The thought of telling Lingling the truth—finally, after all these years—terrified her. What if it didn’t change anything? What if it made things worse?

“I don’t even know how to bring it up,” Orm admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Namtan rested a hand on her arm. “Then wait for the right moment. But don’t let her walk away again without knowing the truth.”

Film nodded in agreement. “You’ve carried this long enough. It’s time she knows what really happened that night.”

Orm’s chest tightened as her gaze drifted back to Lingling. The truth was so close to the surface now, threatening to shatter everything they had buried between them.

But one question lingered, heavier than the rest:

Would Lingling even care about the truth anymore?

Orm was still at the bar with Namtan and Film when she noticed Popor making her way toward them, a smug smile plastered across her face. Her tailored black suit shimmered under the venue lights, but the glint in her eyes was far from charming—it was entitled.

“Here we go,” Film muttered, already straightening her posture like she was ready for a fight.

Popor slid up to Orm’s side, far too close for comfort, as if she had any right to be there. She rested her hand on the bar, her red lips curving upward in a self-satisfied grin.

“N’Orm,” she drawled, her tone oozing with false warmth. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

Orm barely looked at her. She clenched her jaw, trying to keep her composure. “I’m not.”

Popor laughed lightly, as if Orm’s coldness was nothing more than playful banter. “Still holding a grudge, are we?” She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “You know, people still talk about that night. They still wonder what happened between us. It’s funny how one little story can change everything.”

Orm’s knuckles whitened around her glass. She kept her voice steady, though her heart pounded in her chest. “You mean your lie.”

Popor’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. “Does it really matter? People believe what they want to believe. And honestly, I didn’t mind the attention.”

Orm finally turned to face her fully, her eyes burning with anger. “You ruined everything, Popor. And I will never forgive you”

Popor shrugged carelessly. “ After all, you made it so easy with your breakout with Ling.”

Hearing Ling’s name in her mouth was too much for Orm but before she could say anything, Film took a step closer.

Film stepped forward, her voice deadly calm. “She told you to back off.”

Popor shot Film a dismissive look. “Oh, please. This is between me and N’Orm.”

“No, it’s not,” Namtan interjected, stepping in beside Film. Her voice was sharp, her gaze fierce. “You dragged her name through the dirt to protect yourself. You lied to everyone, and you still have the audacity to show up here like you did nothing wrong.”

Popor’s confidence wavered for a brief moment, but then she laughed bitterly. “You all act like the truth even matters. Everyone already made up their minds.”

“Not everyone,” Film said, her voice low but powerful. “And one day, everyone’s going to know what you really did.”

Popor narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she gave Orm one last look—a sickening mix of arrogance and mock sympathy. “You’ve always been too soft, Orm. That’s why you lost.”

Orm’s breath caught in her throat as Popor’s words pierced through her. But before she could say anything, Namtan stepped forward, her voice ice-cold.

“Get. Out.”

Popor raised an eyebrow but didn’t push her luck. She gave a sarcastic bow and took a step back. “Suit yourselves,” she muttered before turning on her heel and walking away, her presence leaving a bitter taste behind.

Orm exhaled slowly, her hands trembling slightly.

Film placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “She’s pathetic. Don’t let her get to you.”

Namtan nodded. “She’s scared, Orm. People like her always are. That’s why they lie.”

Orm closed her eyes briefly, trying to calm the storm inside her. “I hate that she’s right about one thing... people believed her. Ling believed her.”

Namtan’s gaze softened. “Not forever. The truth has a way of catching up, even if it takes time.”

Orm’s eyes drifted toward Lingling again. She was still talking to a group near the entrance, her smile bright but tight with something unsaid.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Orm whispered.

Film exchanged a glance with Namtan before speaking again. “Then make her listen, N’Orm. She deserves to know the truth.”

Orm nodded faintly, though her heart felt heavy. The truth was long overdue—but she wasn’t sure if it would be enough to fix what had already been broken.

Still, she knew one thing for sure: she was done letting Popor’s lies define her story.

And she wasn’t going to let this night end without facing the past head-on.

Ling point of view

The hall buzzed with energy as Dior executives and ambassadors mingled, their conversations flowing as champagne flutes clinked softly in the background. Lingling was in the middle of exchanging pleasantries with the creative director when a shift in the atmosphere pulled her attention across the room.

Her eyes instinctively found Orm at the bar.

At first, she noticed the usual things—the way Orm stood, graceful yet tense, the faint shimmer of her emerald gown catching the light. But then Lingling saw her.

Popor.

A familiar wave of anger burned in Lingling’s chest as she watched Popor slide into Orm’s space with the same arrogant ease she’d always had, her suit tailored perfectly as if she were trying to play the part of someone important. Lingling couldn’t hear what was being said, but she didn’t need to.

She saw Orm’s shoulders stiffen, the way her fingers curled around her glass as though she was trying to anchor herself. And then there was Popor—leaning in too close, her expression smug, like she thought she owned the moment.

Lingling’s nails dug into the stem of her glass. She has no shame.

She kept her composure, but barely. Memories flashed through her mind—memories of whispers after that night, of the rumors that had spread like wildfire, of the humiliation she’d felt when she’d seen the headlines.

Orm and Popor.

Lingling had wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but Popor’s actions—the way she’d flaunted their so-called “night together”—had planted doubts that had only grown.

Now, watching the scene unfold in front of her, Lingling saw it differently. She saw the discomfort in Orm’s posture, the way she tried to pull back as Popor leaned in. It wasn’t what she’d imagined back then.

Namtan’s voice cut across the space, fierce and unwavering. Lingling couldn’t make out every word, but she caught the venom in Namtan’s tone. And when Film stepped forward, she recognized the fury in her expression.

Sonya’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Ling? Are you okay?”

Lingling blinked, realizing she hadn’t responded to the Dior team in the last few seconds. “I’m fine,” she murmured, though her voice felt distant.

Sonya followed Lingling’s line of sight and frowned. “Popor?”

Lingling nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“She’s still trying to cause problems?” Sonya asked, incredulous.

Lingling’s gaze softened as she watched Namtan and Film pull Orm back into the conversation, grounding her. She felt a pang of something she hadn’t felt in a long time—worry for Orm.

“She never stopped,” Lingling muttered, more to herself than to Sonya.

Lingling’s heart tightened as she thought back to the past—to the way she’d convinced herself that Orm had betrayed her. She’d been so angry for so long, but now...

Now she wasn’t sure if she’d been wrong all along.

She straightened, taking a steadying breath. Sonya was saying something to the creative director, but Lingling’s mind was somewhere else entirely.

Lingling’s eyes followed Popor’s retreating figure until she disappeared into the crowd. Her heart was pounding in her chest—not from fear, but from the overwhelming wave of anger and something else she couldn’t quite name.

She barely noticed Sonya touch her arm until she spoke. “Come with me.”

Lingling blinked, disoriented for a second. Sonya’s eyes were steady, filled with concern. “Let’s step aside.”

Lingling hesitated, glancing toward the bar where Orm was standing with Namtan and Film, their heads bowed slightly as they spoke in hushed tones.

“Ling,” Sonya’s voice was low but firm, cutting through the noise of her thoughts. “You’re upset.”

Lingling nodded mutely and let Sonya guide her toward a quieter corner of the room near an arrangement of ivory roses. The distant chatter of the crowd faded slightly as they found a more private space.

Sonya turned to face her, her brows drawn together in concern. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Lingling exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. “It’s... seeing them. Seeing her.” Her voice trembled slightly with the weight of the word.

“Popor,” Sonya said with quiet understanding.

Lingling’s fingers brushed over the fabric of her gown, grounding herself. “I thought I was over it—over her. But watching her approach Orm like that... like she still thinks she owns her.” Her jaw tightened. “It makes me sick.”

Sonya’s voice was soft but steady. “You know... you don’t have to go through this again, Ling.”

Lingling blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sonya took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. “I mean... you can choose to move forward. Leave the past behind—leave Orm behind.” She hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, “With me.”

Lingling’s breath caught in her throat. Sonya’s words felt like both a comfort and a heavy weight pressing down on her.

“Sonya...” Lingling’s voice was almost a whisper.

“I know,” Sonya said quickly, trying to ease the tension. “I know I shouldn’t say this here, not like this. But watching you go through this... it hurts.” She took Lingling’s hand gently. “I care about you, Ling. And I hate seeing you tied to someone who keeps breaking your heart.”

Lingling’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. “It’s not like that...”

Sonya’s expression softened. “Isn’t it? You deserve someone who chooses you without hesitation.”

Lingling looked down at their joined hands. Sonya’s warmth was steady and reassuring, but it wasn’t the warmth she craved. Her heart had always known what it wanted—who it wanted. And that was the cruel truth of it all but it breaks her to hurt Sonya, she has always been here for her this past year.

She pulled her hand away gently but firmly, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry, Sonya.”

Sonya blinked, her face falling slightly.

Lingling’s chest felt tight as she continued. “You’re amazing, and you’ve been there for me when I needed someone the most. But... I’m still in love with her.” She closed her eyes for a second before looking at Sonya again, her gaze full of apology. “I’ve always been in love with her.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest.

Sonya’s shoulders sagged, and for a moment, the hurt was clear in her eyes. But she nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “I knew,” she whispered. “I think I always knew.”

Lingling’s heart ached as she watched Sonya try to smile. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly.

Sonya shook her head. “You didn’t.” She forced out a short laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not your fault that your heart’s still hers.”

Lingling reached out and touched Sonya’s hand briefly. “Thank you... for everything.”

Sonya smiled to her, she couldn’t be angry with Ling she knew she had no chance with her but she still hoped that maybe, she will see her like she sees Orm.

Orm point of view

Orm was still standing near the bar, nursing a glass of water she didn’t really want. The noise of the event swirled around her, but her focus was pinned to one corner of the room—the quiet space near the floral arrangement where Lingling and Sonya stood.

She hadn’t meant to watch. It felt like an invasion, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

She saw the way Sonya leaned in, her hand resting gently over Lingling’s. She saw how close they stood, their faces only inches apart. And then Lingling pulled back—but not far enough.

Orm’s heart twisted painfully.

Are they... together?

The thought clawed at her mind, sharp and relentless. She had spent years wondering if Lingling had moved on, wondering if someone else had taken her place. And now, watching the intimacy between them, the possibility felt real in a way that crushed her.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she saw Sonya’s expression—the rawness in her eyes, the way she reached for Lingling’s hand like she didn’t want to let go.

Orm’s pulse pounded in her ears. She downed the rest of her water, as if it could drown out the sinking feeling in her chest.

Film noticed Orm’s gaze and followed it to the scene across the room. She frowned and stepped closer. “N’Orm, you don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Orm let out a shaky breath. “I don’t need to hear it.” Her voice was hollow. “I can see it.”

Namtan’s hand rested gently on Orm’s arm. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

But Orm couldn’t stop the thoughts spiraling in her mind. Lingling had always been the steady one—the one who could hold her ground. But now, watching her with Sonya, Orm saw something she wasn’t ready to face.

Maybe Sonya is right. Maybe I really do belong to her past.

Film’s expression softened. “Ling’s not the type to give up on something unless she has no choice. You know that.”

Orm’s voice cracked as she whispered, “But maybe she already gave up on me.”

Her eyes stayed locked on Lingling as Sonya stepped back, but her gaze lingered on Ling, like she was still hoping for something that would never come.

Orm felt something break inside her. She had lost Lingling once because of lies and misunderstandings. And now, she feared she was watching it happen all over again—only this time, it wasn’t anyone else’s fault but her own.

I waited too long.

Namtan squeezed Orm’s shoulder gently, as if trying to anchor her. “Whatever happens, don’t assume the worst. You don’t know what’s in her heart.”

But Orm couldn’t fight the fear settling like lead in her stomach.

Because from where she stood, it looked like Lingling had already moved on—and she didn’t know how to survive losing her a second time.

Orm’s grip tightened around the glass until she was sure it would crack. Her pulse was a dull roar in her ears as she watched Lingling and Sonya move further apart, but not far enough to ease the ache in her chest.

Lingling’s expression was unreadable from this distance, but Sonya’s... Sonya’s face said everything Orm didn’t want to believe. There was longing there, and something else—something final, like someone who’d laid their heart bare and wasn’t sure how it would be received.

Orm felt like she was unraveling.

They’re close—too close. She swallowed hard. Is this what’s been happening while I’ve been stuck in the past?

Her fingers trembled as she set the empty glass down on the bar. Namtan and Film exchanged worried glances, but she barely noticed.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight,” Orm muttered, her voice low.

Namtan’s eyes widened. “What?”

Orm rubbed a hand over her face, frustration bubbling to the surface. “It hurts too much.” She took a shaky breath. “I can’t... I can’t pretend everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Film stepped forward, her voice gentle but firm. “N’Orm, you can’t run away from this. Not again.You won’t have a second chance”

Orm’s jaw tightened. “I’m not running away.”

“Then what is this?” Namtan asked, her tone soft but pointed.

Orm blinked and looked back at Lingling. She was standing alone now, her gaze distant as Sonya walked toward the other side of the room.

There was something vulnerable in the way Lingling’s shoulders drooped slightly—like all the weight she’d been carrying for the past few minutes had finally caught up with her.

Orm’s heart twisted again.

Film’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You’re not imagining things, N’Orm. I’ve seen Sonya look at her like that before.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “But Ling never looks at Sonya the way she used to look at you.”

The words hit Orm like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t know that,” Orm whispered.

“Yes, I do.” Film’s gaze was steady, unflinching. “You’re afraid because you think you’ve already lost her. But you haven’t. Not completely.”

Orm felt tears sting the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. The truth was, she wasn’t afraid of losing Lingling—she was afraid that she already had.

Namtan placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You need to talk to her, Orm. Not tomorrow, not some other time. Tonight. Before you convince yourself that everything’s already over.”

Orm looked down, struggling to breathe past the lump in her throat. The idea of confronting Lingling terrified her. What if it didn’t matter what she said? What if she told the truth and Lingling still walked away?

But she’d spent years wondering what could’ve been. If she didn’t speak now, she’d never forgive herself.

Orm straightened slightly, wiping at the corner of her eye. She nodded, though her hands were still trembling.

“I’ll talk to her,” she whispered. “But if she’s really with Sonya... if she’s happy...”

Namtan and Film exchanged a glance before Film said softly, “Then at least you’ll know.”

Orm’s chest felt tight as she looked across the room once more, her gaze fixed on Lingling’s silver-clad figure.

“I can’t lose her again,” Orm murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Namtan’s voice was soft but certain. “Then make her understand that she never really lost you.”

The words settled heavily in Orm’s heart.

With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and took a step forward, her gaze locked on Lingling. The crowd around them faded into a blur of movement and sound, but Orm’s path was clear.

Tonight wasn’t just about facing the truth. It was about holding on to the one person she had never been able to let go of—and hoping it wasn’t too late.

Orm took slow, measured steps, each one feeling heavier than the last. Her heart raced as she tried to summon the courage to cross the room. Lingling was standing alone now, her back partially turned, her silver gown shimmering under the chandelier lights.

This is it, Orm thought. Just walk up to her. Say something—anything.

Her palms were damp, and her throat felt tight, but she kept moving forward, determined not to let fear win again.

But then, just as she was a few steps away, she saw someone else approaching from the other side of the room—a familiar figure, stumbling slightly, a glass of whiskey sloshing in hand.

Popor.

Orm froze, her stomach twisting in dread. Popor was visibly drunk, her perfect posture replaced by a careless swagger. Her suit jacket hung open, and her lips were painted with a smug, drunken grin. Orm could see where this was going—Popor wasn’t walking aimlessly. She was heading straight for Lingling.

No... not tonight.

Popor reached Lingling before Orm could, her steps uneven but her voice clear enough to draw attention.

“Well, well...” Popor drawled, slurring slightly as she swayed to Lingling’s side. “The great P’Lingling... all by herself?” She gave a mocking laugh, her eyes glassy. “Where’s your knight in shining armor? Oh, wait—there she is.” She pointed vaguely in Orm’s direction but didn’t bother looking.

Lingling stiffened but didn’t turn right away. When she did, her expression was ice cold.

“Popor,” Lingling said sharply. “Walk away.”

Popor laughed again, louder this time, as if Lingling’s words were the funniest thing she’d heard all night. “Walk away? Why? You don’t get to tell me what to do.” She leaned in closer, too close. “You should thank me Ling”

Orm’s heart pounded as she watched the scene unfold. Lingling’s face darkened with fury, her fists tightening at her sides.

Ling was shocked by Popor’s behavior, how could she do this? Have no respect or privacy like that was not something Ling could understand.

Popor kept talking, oblivious to the tension in the air. “You’re still holding onto her after all this time? How sad.” She took another sloppy sip of her drink. “If only you knew how easy it was to make you both fall apart.”

That was enough.

Orm crossed the remaining distance in three quick strides, stepping between Popor and Lingling. Her voice was low but deadly calm. “That’s enough, Popor.”

Popor’s grin faltered as Orm’s presence loomed over her. She stumbled slightly, blinking in surprise. “Oh, look who’s here,” she sneered. “Coming to save the day?”

Orm’s jaw clenched, but she stayed calm. “You’ve had too much to drink. Leave. Now.”

Popor’s eyes narrowed as she swayed on her feet. “Why do you care so much, huh? You had your chance. You let her walk away N’Orm don’t forget.”

Lingling’s voice was sharp and unyielding. “Popor, I’m warning you.”

Popor laughed bitterly and stepped back, her expression twisting with something ugly. “Fine,” she muttered, waving her glass carelessly. “Have fun living in your delusions.” She turned and stumbled toward the exit, her presence leaving a trail of awkward silence behind her.

Orm exhaled shakily, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She felt Lingling’s gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting. Slowly, she turned around to face her.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the room disappeared.

“Are you okay?” Orm asked softly, her voice thick with concern.

Lingling’s jaw was still tight, her shoulders trembling slightly from barely contained anger. But her eyes... her eyes were filled with something else—confusion, pain, and the remnants of trust that had been shattered long ago.

“Why did you step in?” Lingling’s voice was low, almost accusing. “Why now?”

Orm swallowed hard. She wanted to say everything—to tell Lingling the truth, to tell her how long she’d waited for this moment. But the words felt tangled in her throat.

“Because I couldn’t watch her hurt you again,” Orm whispered.

Lingling’s breath hitched, and for a moment, they just stood there, suspended between the past and the present.

“Again? Are you kidding me right now? She isn’t the one who hurt me N’Orm” answer Ling looking around to see if Sonya was around, she couldn’t stand being here anymore.

Orm knew this was her moment—the chance she thought she’d never get. But whether Lingling would listen... that was something Orm wasn’t sure she was ready to find out.

But she had to try.

“Ling...” Orm began, her voice breaking slightly.

But before she could say anything Ling turns away

“I need to leave” she whispers before turning her back to Orm. But before she coud go anywhere she felt Orm hand grabbing hers which sent a jolt all along her spine, how long it has been since she felt Orm. 

“Ling.. Please…” says Orm who stands in front of Ling trying to catch her attention.

Lingling’s eyes softened, but there was still a wall between them—a wall built by years of misunderstandings and silence.

“Is it true?” Lingling asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Orm froze. The question she had been dreading for years was finally spoken aloud.

“Is what true?” she asked cautiously, though she knew exactly what Lingling meant, she knew that people in the industry started to talk again about this story with Popor, but not the same version people used to listen to a few years back.

Lingling’s gaze burned into her, filled with years of pain and betrayal. “That you didn’t sleep with her.”

The air felt like it had vanished from the room. The world narrowed until it was just the two of them, suspended in a moment that could change everything. Orm’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, but she knew she couldn’t run anymore.

She had waited years for this—for Lingling to give her a chance to tell the truth.

“I didn’t,” Orm whispered, her voice raw. She took a step forward, her eyes pleading. “I never did. I never gave myself to anyone, Ling. I’ve only ever waited for you.”

Lingling’s breath caught in her throat, her face crumpling under the weight of Orm’s words.

But before Orm could say anything more, Sonya stepped between them, her expression cold and unyielding.

“You need to leave her alone,” Sonya said, her voice sharp and unwavering. She placed a protective hand on Lingling’s arm, keeping her distance from Orm as though shielding Lingling from more pain.

Orm’s eyes widened slightly, the sting of Sonya’s words piercing her.

Lingling blinked, shaken by the sudden interruption. “Sonya—”

“No, Ling.” Sonya’s voice softened, but her gaze never wavered from Orm. “She doesn’t get to do this. Not after all these years.” She took a step closer to Orm, her tone low but full of restrained fury. “You left her in the dark. You let her believe a lie that broke her.”

Orm froze. The question she had been dreading for years was finally spoken aloud.

“Is what true?” she asked cautiously, though she knew exactly what Lingling meant.

Lingling’s gaze burned into her, filled with years of pain and betrayal. “That you didn’t sleep with her.”

The air felt like it had vanished from the room. The world narrowed until it was just the two of them, suspended in a moment that could change everything. Orm’s heart pounded painfully in her chest, but she knew she couldn’t run anymore.

She had waited years for this—for Lingling to give her a chance to tell the truth.

“I didn’t,” Orm whispered, her voice raw. She took a step forward, her eyes pleading. “I never did. I never gave myself to anyone, Ling. I’ve only ever waited for you.”

Lingling’s breath caught in her throat, her face crumpling under the weight of Orm’s words.

But before Orm could say anything more, Sonya stepped between them, her expression cold and unyielding.

Ling point of view

“You need to leave her alone,” Sonya said, her voice sharp and unwavering. She placed a protective hand on Lingling’s arm, keeping her distance from Orm as though shielding Lingling from more pain.

Orm's eyes widened, Sonya's words cutting through him like a blade.
Lingling blinked, stunned by the sudden confrontation. "Sonya—"

"No, Ling." Sonya's voice softened, but her gaze stayed locked on Orm, unyielding. "She doesn't get to do this—not after everything." She stepped closer, her tone quiet but brimming with restrained fury. "You kept her in the dark. You let her believe a lie that shattered her. I won't let you hurt her again."

Orm's chest tightened. "I didn’t let her believe it. She walked away before I had the chance to explain."

Lingling's gaze darted between them, her heart aching, torn apart by their bitter exchange.

"Are you serious right now?" Sonya’s eyes narrowed, her expression darkening.

Orm swallowed hard but held his ground. "Please, Sonya... I just need to tell her—"

"You don’t need to tell her anything." Sonya’s voice was sharp as she reached for Lingling’s arm to pull her away. But when she saw the tears streaming down Lingling's face, her resolve faltered—it shattered her but she needed to get her out of here before anyone sees how bad she is.

She intertwined their fingers, her touch protective even as her gaze burned with anger toward Orm.

Lingling stood frozen, unable to react, her mind struggling to keep up. The noise of the crowd felt distant, muffled by the weight of the moment. How could Orm bring this up now—here, of all places? At this event? It felt like a betrayal, a truth she wasn’t ready to confront in front of everyone.

She felt Sonya’s hand on her arm, grounding her. “Let’s go,” Sonya whispered.

Lingling gave a small nod, too overwhelmed to speak. She didn’t dare look back at Orm—not because she was angry, but because she was afraid. Afraid that if she looked, she wouldn’t be able to walk away.

They reached the exit, and P’Mam was already there, speaking quietly to one of the event staff. When she saw Lingling’s pale face, her brows furrowed in concern, but she didn’t ask any questions.

The staff opened the doors, and the cool night air wrapped around Lingling like a shock to her system. The flashes of cameras outside were blinding, the reporters calling her name. But it was all just noise—distant and meaningless.

The black SUV waited by the curb, sleek and polished. Sonya helped Lingling into the backseat and climbed in after her, texting her manager quickly: “Ling’s driver will take me home later.”

P’Mam slipped into the seat next to the driver, glancing back at them with quiet worry. She didn’t say a word, sensing that Lingling needed silence more than anything else.

The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the chaos of the event behind. The quiet in the car was thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

Lingling stared out the window, her eyes unfocused as the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. Her chest felt tight, each breath labored as she replayed Orm’s words over and over.

I never slept with her. I’ve only ever waited for you.

Sonya’s hand squeezed hers gently, a silent reminder that she wasn’t alone. Lingling turned slightly, catching the way Sonya was looking at her—soft, steady, but with something fragile beneath the surface.

Sonya’s voice was quiet. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lingling shook her head slowly. “No.” Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sonya nodded, though her eyes betrayed her worry. She wanted to say more, to comfort Lingling, but she knew that nothing she said would change the storm swirling inside her.

The car hit a smooth stretch of road, the soft hum of the tires the only sound in the cabin.

P’Mam finally broke the silence, her voice calm but hesitant. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight, P’Ling?”

Lingling’s gaze stayed on the passing streets. She felt like a glass teetering on the edge, moments away from shattering. “No, P’Mam. Thank you.” She swallowed hard and added, “I just need some time.”

P’Mam hesitated but nodded. “Okay.” She paused before continuing, her voice softer. “But if you need anything... call me.”

Lingling forced a small nod, though she couldn’t bring herself to look at P’Mam.

As the car pulled up to her building, Sonya squeezed her hand again. “I’ll walk you up,” she said softly.Lingling didn’t have the energy to argue. 

“I’ll wait for you here Sonya, Ling my love please call me if you need anything” says P’Mam who was ready to be on the phone.

“Thank you P’mam “ answers Ling with a little smile

The familiar scent of polished wood and fresh flowers greeted her, but it didn’t feel like home tonight—it felt like just another empty space.

The elevator ride was silent. Lingling could feel Sonya’s gaze on her, but she kept her eyes on the floor numbers ticking upward.

When they reached her door, Lingling fumbled with the key before finally unlocking it. The apartment was dark and quiet, an empty sanctuary that felt both comforting and lonely.

Sonya lingered in the doorway, uncertain. “Do you want me to stay?”

Lingling finally met Sonya’s gaze. The concern, the unspoken love—it was all there, laid bare.

Lingling’s heart twisted painfully. She knew what Sonya wanted, what she had been hoping for. But right now, her heart was somewhere else—stuck in the past, stuck with Orm.

“I’m sorry,” Lingling whispered, her voice breaking.

Sonya’s face softened with understanding, though the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. She gave a small, resigned nod. “It’s okay.”

Lingling stepped forward and hugged Sonya tightly. “Thank you for everything.”

Sonya’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close for just a moment before she pulled back. “Take care of yourself, Ling.”

Lingling nodded as Sonya stepped back into the hallway. “Goodnight,” she murmured.

Sonya gave her a small smile before turning away. Lingling watched her until the elevator doors closed.

Sonya stepped into the crisp night air, her arms folded tightly across her chest as she walked briskly to the waiting car. She opened the door and slid in, letting out a long sigh as she closed it behind her.

P’Mam looked up from her phone, her gaze searching Sonya’s face. “How is she?”

Sonya leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes for a brief moment before answering. “She’s not okay.”

P’Mam’s jaw tightened, and she nodded slowly. “I figured.”

Sonya’s voice softened. “She asked to be alone.”

P’Mam let out a quiet sigh, her hands resting on her lap. “I should’ve pulled her out sooner... before it all got too much. I knew seeing Orm again, will shatter her but I have to be honest I didn’t know Popor would be here…”

Sonya shook her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. Seeing Popor and Orm in the same room—it was always going to tear her apart.”

The quiet between them was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with the shared understanding that no matter how much they tried to protect Lingling, some battles she had to face alone.

P’Mam glanced at Sonya out of the corner of her eye. “And you?”

Sonya blinked, then looked at P’Mam with a small, tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Me? I’ll be fine.”

P’Mam’s brow furrowed. “You care about her... more than you let on.”

Sonya exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the dimly lit street. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “But that doesn’t matter. She’s always belonged to Orm, whether she admits it or not.”

P’Mam reached out and squeezed Sonya’s hand gently. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Sonya gave a faint nod, though her heart felt heavier than ever.

The driver started the engine, the hum of the car filling the silence.

As they pulled away, Sonya glanced back at Lingling’s building, a quiet hope flickering in her chest. She didn’t want Lingling to shatter—didn’t want her to lose herself again over Orm.

But deep down, Sonya knew that if Lingling was ever going to find her way back to herself, she’d have to face Orm—and the truth—all over again.

For now, all Sonya could do was wait and hope that when the time came, Lingling wouldn’t be too broken to choose her own happiness—whatever that meant.

______________________________________

The apartment was quiet—too quiet. The soft hum of the city outside did nothing to fill the hollow ache inside Lingling’s chest. She sat on the edge of her couch, still in her silver gown, her heels kicked off haphazardly by the door.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table—a muted vibration that felt too loud in the silence. She didn’t need to check to know who it was.

P’Mam, probably making sure she was okay. Or maybe Sonya, asking if she’d gotten some rest.

But she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not yet.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her face buried in her hands. The events of the night replayed mercilessly in her mind.

Orm’s voice. Her expression. The pain in her eyes.

"I never gave myself to anyone but you."

Lingling’s breath shuddered as she tried to process what that even meant. Orm had finally said the words she had waited years to hear, but they had come too late—at the worst possible moment.

And Popor. Seeing her standing in the same room as Orm had been like a knife to the chest, reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

Lingling stood abruptly, pacing toward the window. The reflection of her dishevelled self stared back at her from the glass, but she avoided her own eyes.

She wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to keep from falling apart.

"Why now, Orm? Why tell me now?"

The betrayal she had carried for years felt like it was unraveling, but it left behind something even worse—uncertainty.

Her phone buzzed again, pulling her out of her thoughts.

This time, she glanced down. It wasn’t P’Mam.

It was Sonya: “Did you eat? Please don’t forget.”

Lingling’s heart ached at the kindness in Sonya’s words. She had always been steady, always there when Lingling needed someone. But that was the problem—Sonya wasn’t the one Lingling’s heart longed for.

She stared at the message for a moment before typing back: “I’m okay. Thank you.”

She set the phone down again and leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window. The night outside felt endless, the city alive with lights and movement, but inside, everything was still.

Lingling closed her eyes and let the silence engulf her.

Why didn’t you fight for me back then, Orm? Why did you let me believe the lie?

But the truth she couldn’t ignore was that Orm had tried tonight. And she hadn’t been ready to listen.

A tear slid down her cheek as she whispered to herself, “What if it’s too late for us?”

Her phone buzzed one more time, but she didn’t look.

Tonight, all she could do was breathe.

Tomorrow, maybe, she would figure out if the truth could ever be enough to mend what had been broken.

The soft hum of conversations and laughter felt distant as Orm stood frozen in place, staring at the doors Lingling had walked out of moments ago. The weight of everything pressed down on her chest like a stone.

She had come so close—so painfully close—to telling Lingling the truth. The truth she had carried for years like a scar. But Sonya had stepped in, shielding Lingling like a fortress, leaving Orm stranded in the wreckage of her own silence.

Orm’s breath was shallow as she leaned against the bar, the room spinning slightly. Namtan and Film approached cautiously, their expressions filled with concern.

Film spoke first, her voice gentle but direct. “P’Orm... what happened?”

Orm shook her head, her voice hoarse. “She didn’t let me explain.” She let out a bitter laugh, but it cracked halfway through. “She couldn’t even look at me anymore.”

Namtan’s hand rested on Orm’s arm, grounding her. “It wasn’t you, Orm. She’s overwhelmed. Seeing you and Popor in the same room—it was too much.”

Orm’s eyes darkened at the mention of Popor. “I hate that she still has this power over us.” Her fingers clenched into fists. “Ling thinks I betrayed her. And Popor just... got away with it.”

Film’s eyes softened. “She won’t get away with it forever.”

Orm’s throat tightened. “She already has.” She closed her eyes, memories of that night crashing over her—the fear, the helplessness, the way Smith, Nene, and Kate had pulled her out before everything went horribly wrong. “If Smith, Nene, and Kate hadn’t found me...”

Her words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy.

Namtan’s voice was low. “You can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened.”

Orm opened her eyes, the guilt swirling in them. “I’m not punishing myself. I’m punishing her.” Her voice cracked. “By letting her believe the worst... I became what she thought I was.”

Film exchanged a worried glance with Namtan before stepping forward. “N’Orm, if you don’t tell her everything—everything—you’re letting Popor win.”

Orm’s gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of Film’s words settling over her like a cold blanket.

“I don’t know if she’ll listen anymore,” Orm admitted quietly. “Not after tonight.”

Namtan gave her a small, encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. “Then give her time. But not too long, she needs the truth. You’ve waited years for this moment. Don’t walk away now.”

Orm’s eyes flickered with something between hope and fear. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “You’re right. I’ve come too far to run now but I feel so bad for her, I hate myself even more seeing the hurt in her eyes.”

“Oh girl we saw that, she was heartbroken, you clearly opened a wound she didn’t want to open”

Film gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We’ll be here, no matter what.”

Orm nodded, though her heart still felt like it was splintering. She straightened her posture and forced herself to breathe. Lingling had asked for space—and she would give it to her.

But not forever.

The night pressed on, but Orm’s world had already stopped. As the lights dimmed for the evening’s next presentation, she quietly excused herself from the crowd.

She needed air.

The cool night breeze hit her face as she stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the river. The city lights reflected off the water below, dancing like fleeting fireflies.

Orm leaned on the railing, her mind replaying every second of the night in painful detail.

She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But one thing was clear—if Lingling was ever going to know the truth, Orm couldn’t rely on fate to fix things. She can’t hide anymore.

She had to find the courage to fight for her. Ling deserved it.