You are mine

Orm point of view

Orm returned to her family home this morning after a restless night following last night's Dior event. She couldn’t sleep; her mind wouldn’t quiet after seeing Ling for the first time in two years.

Orm sat on the edge of her childhood bed, her phone buzzing endlessly beside her. The screen lit up with notification after notification—tweets, articles, fan edits, and endless speculation about last night’s Dior event. She hadn’t opened a single one, but the headlines were impossible to ignore.

Mae walked into the room, carrying a tray with sliced mangoes and sticky rice. She set it on the table, her sharp eyes flicking to Orm’s phone. “You’ve been staring at that thing all morning. Have you even eaten?”

Orm shook her head, her gaze fixed on the screen. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About everything. The posts, the rumors, Lingling...”

Mae sat down beside her, her presence steadying. “What are they saying?”

Orm let out a hollow laugh, finally picking up her phone. “Everything. And none of it’s good.” She scrolled through the notifications, her voice tight as she read aloud. “‘Ling and Sonya: The New Power Couple?’” Her fingers swiped to the next post. “‘Popor’s Dramatic Confrontation: Is There Still Bad Blood With Orm?’” She dropped the phone onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. “It’s a mess.”

Mae’s lips pressed into a thin line as she reached for Orm’s phone. She wasn’t much for gossip, but she knew how the media could twist things. Scanning the posts, she shook her head. “This one,” she said, holding the screen out. “‘Ling and Orm: A Love Story Turned Sour. Can It Ever Be Fixed?’ They love to stir the pot, don’t they?”

Orm groaned. “They don’t know anything. And now people are making up stories about Ling and Sonya being together, all because they left the event together.”

Mae set the phone back down, her voice firm. “So? Let them talk. You know the truth.”

“But do I?” Orm’s voice cracked slightly. “I saw her with Sonya, Mae. She looked... she looked happy. Like she was moving on.”

Mae tilted her head, her expression softening. “Was she really happy, Orm? Or was she trying to hold herself together in front of the cameras?”

Orm hesitated, her mind flashing back to Lingling’s face as she walked away. The trembling in her voice, the tears she tried to hide. “She didn’t look okay,” Orm admitted quietly. “But I don’t know if that’s because of me, or because of... everything else.”

Mae reached out, brushing Orm’s hair back like she used to when she was a child. “Lingling’s hurting, just like you are. And those reporters don’t care about the truth—they care about drama. But you can’t let their words make you doubt what you know in your heart.”

Orm’s shoulders sagged. “I just... I don’t know how to fix this. Everywhere I turn, it feels like the past is chasing me down. And now Popor’s name is in the mix again.”

Mae’s expression hardened at the mention of Popor. “That woman caused enough damage, and you’ve let her lies fester for too long.”

Orm looked down, guilt twisting in her chest. “I wanted to tell Lingling the truth last night. I tried. But Sonya—”

“—was protecting her,” Mae finished gently. “And that’s not a bad thing, Orm. Lingling clearly has people in her corner who care about her. But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for you.”

Orm sighed, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “What if there isn’t? What if she’s already decided I’m the villain in all this?”

Mae gave her a soft smile. “Then show her you’re not. But you can’t do that through the press or social media. You’ll have to do it face-to-face. Honestly. Fully.”

Orm nodded, though her heart still felt heavy. “The whole world is watching, Mae. It’s like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

Mae leaned forward, her voice steady and warm. “Let them watch. This isn’t about them. It’s about you and Lingling.”

Orm’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met her mother’s gaze. “Do you think it’s too late?”

Mae smiled softly, her hand resting over Orm’s. “If it were too late, you wouldn’t still feel this way. And she wouldn’t have asked for the truth.”

Orm swallowed hard, the weight of Mae’s words settling in her chest.

She had spent so many years letting fear and guilt control her. But if there was even the smallest chance to fix things with Lingling, she couldn’t let it slip away again.

Mae squeezed her hand gently. “Now, eat something. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to face this head-on.”

Orm let out a weak laugh, picking up a piece of mango. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of clarity.

Ling point of view

The soft clinking of porcelain cups filled the air as Junji set down a steaming pot of tea. Her house was always a safe haven, tucked away from the chaos of the city. The walls were lined with books and paintings, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and freshly brewed tea.

Lingling sat curled up on the corner of Junji’s couch, her knees tucked under her chin. She hadn’t said much since she arrived, but Junji hadn’t pushed her.

Junji settled into the armchair across from her, her calm gaze fixed on Lingling. “I don’t know what happened last night, but you’ve been carrying it around like a storm.”

Junji had already seen the storm raging on social media—the posts, the photos, the speculative headlines. She knew Lingling hadn’t caught up with everything yet, and part of her didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.

Instead, she waited.

Lingling stared at her own untouched cup, her fingers tracing the delicate rim. “It’s so loud,” she said finally, her voice soft but strained.

Junji tilted her head slightly, a quiet invitation for Lingling to continue.

Lingling exhaled shakily, her gaze dropping to her lap. “The event last night... I thought I could handle it. But seeing them both there—Orm and Popor—it was like everything I’ve been trying to bury just came flooding back.”

Junji’s grip on her cup tightened slightly. She knew where this was going but wanted Lingling to say it on her own terms.

“Orm tried to tell me something,” Lingling continued, her voice cracking. “She said she never... that nothing happened with Popor. But Sonya stepped in before she could finish, and I...” She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “I couldn’t breathe, Junji. It was too much.”

Junji nodded slowly, setting her cup down on the table. “It’s a lot to process I know, it has been so long the last time you’ve seen Orm” she said gently.

Lingling looked up at her, her voice trembling. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? What people are saying?”

Junji hesitated, then gave a small nod. “I have. You are the trend everywhere”

Lingling let out a bitter laugh. “What’s the damage?”

Junji leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. “They’re talking about you and Sonya, mostly. Calling you the ‘power couple’ of the event.” She paused, watching Lingling’s reaction before continuing. “And, of course, there’s talk about Orm and Popor. People are speculating if the tension last night was because of something between them—or because of you.”

Lingling closed her eyes, her chest tightening. “Of course they are.”

Junji’s voice softened. “There’s more.”

Lingling’s eyes snapped open, meeting Junji’s. “More?”

Junji hesitated. “There’s a video circulating. Of Popor and Orm. From last night.”

Lingling froze, her stomach dropping. “What kind of video?”

Junji reached for her phone, pulling up the clip she had saved earlier. She hesitated before handing it over. “It’s nothing physical. Just... watch.”

Lingling took the phone with trembling hands, pressing play.

The clip was shaky, clearly taken by someone hiding behind a pillar. It showed Popor walking toward Orm at the bar, her stance overly confident, her expression smug. Orm’s back was to the camera, but her body language was stiff, her shoulders tense as Popor leaned in too close.

Lingling’s breath caught as she watched the interaction. Popor was saying something, gesturing dramatically, while Orm’s head turned slightly, her voice inaudible. Then, suddenly, Namtan and Film appeared, stepping between them. Film’s expression was sharp, her mouth moving in what looked like angry words directed at Popor.

The video cut off there, but it was enough.

Lingling stared at the screen, the video replaying in her mind even though she had set Junji’s phone down. The image of Popor leaning too close to Orm, her smug expression, and the sudden appearance of Namtan and Film flashed repeatedly in her thoughts.

Junji watched her carefully, her voice calm but firm. “There’s more to this than you know, Ling. Namtan and Film didn’t just step in to protect Orm last night.”

Lingling frowned, her chest tightening. “What do you mean?”

Junji hesitated, her gaze steady but cautious. “Namtan and Film confronted Popor after the event. They told her to stay away from Orm—and from you.”

Lingling blinked, caught off guard. “They did?”

Junji nodded, her voice calm but laced with concern. “But it wasn’t just about last night. They told Popor they’re done staying silent about what happened years ago.”

Lingling’s pulse quickened, confusion and unease flooding her senses. “What are you talking about? How could you possibly know all this?”

Junji sighed and leaned forward, folding her hands tightly in her lap. “From what I’ve heard—and from what I can piece together—Namtan and Film have known the truth about that night for years. They were at the party at Popor’s. And now, I think they’ve had enough of keeping quiet about what really happened between Popor and Orm.”

Lingling’s breath hitched, her thoughts spinning wildly. “If they knew the truth, why didn’t they say anything before? Why didn’t Orm tell me?” Her voice broke slightly. “I thought... I thought she gave herself to Popor. I thought she—”

“Ling,” Junji interrupted firmly, her voice rising just enough to cut through the whirlwind in Lingling’s head. “Listen to me. Stop torturing yourself with questions about the past. Yes, Orm was wrong for not coming back to you, for not telling you the truth years ago. But if what I suspect is true, she might have had a reason—a reason tied to her own pain.”

Lingling froze at Junji’s words. Her mind reeled as the implications began to take shape. “What pain? What are you talking about?”

Junji hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. “I... I thought you already knew, Ling.”

Lingling’s heart pounded in her chest. She stood abruptly, her voice trembling. “What do you mean? Knew what? What are you talking about, Junji?”

Junji swallowed hard, suddenly regretting her assumption. She looked up at Lingling, her voice soft but heavy with meaning. “Didn’t she tell you last night? About what Popor did to her?”

Lingling’s mind spun, the words not fully landing until her chest began to tighten. Her voice cracked as tears formed in her eyes. “Junji... what are you talking about?”

Junji hesitated, watching the storm of emotions swirling in Lingling’s eyes. She took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say would only add to the weight Lingling was carrying.

“There’s more, Ling,” Junji said gently, her voice steady but careful.

Lingling’s red-rimmed eyes flicked up to meet hers, tears still falling silently. “More? What more could there possibly be, Junji?”

Junji sighed, her heart aching for her friend. “I heard something from P’Dew... and it matches what people have been piecing together on social media.”

Lingling’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Junji sat down beside her, her tone firm but compassionate. “That night at Popor’s party—Orm wasn’t alone. Kate, Smith, and Nene arrived, looking for her. They were worried when they realized Popor had taken her into a private room. Film and Namtan were there, too. They didn’t understand why Popor insisted on being alone with Orm, and they started to feel uneasy about the whole thing.”

Lingling’s breath hitched, her hands trembling as she listened.

“They decided to check on Orm,” Junji continued, her voice quieter now. “And they arrived just in time. Popor... she was trying to take advantage of her. Orm was too drunk to realize what was happening, but they stopped it before it went any further.”

Lingling’s eyes widened, and her chest tightened painfully. “No... no, that’s not... that can’t be true.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to process what Junji was telling her.

Junji nodded solemnly. “It is, Ling. Kate, Smith, and Nene pulled her out of the room. Film and Namtan confronted Popor right there. But after that, no one knew how to handle it. Orm was mortified. She didn’t want anyone to know—not even you.”

Lingling’s hands flew to her face as she let out a broken sob. “All this time... all this time, I thought she betrayed me. I thought she chose Popor over me.”

Junji placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Ling, Orm didn’t choose Popor. She never did. Popor lied to protect herself, and Orm... Orm thought staying silent would protect you.”

Lingling shook her head, her tears flowing freely. “She should have told me. I would’ve believed her—I would’ve been there for her.”

Junji’s voice softened. “Maybe she didn’t think you would. Or maybe she didn’t know how to face you after everything that happened. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t want to. And remember your drama with Win happened two weeks after your fight so she might have thought that you were done with her”

Lingling buried her face in her hands, her body trembling. The anger she had clung to for so long felt hollow now, replaced by a deep, aching guilt.

“I let her think I hated her,” she whispered. “I let her think I didn’t care anymore.”

Junji wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “You both made mistakes, Ling. But now you know the truth. And that means you can start to figure out what comes next. But remember that even if this is very sad for Orm, the true one to be angry with is Popor”

“I’m going to kill her” whispers Ling

Lingling wiped her tears with trembling hands, her breathing still uneven. She felt hollow, as if the weight of the truth had carved out something inside her. The anger she had held onto for so long had been replaced by confusion, guilt, and a deep ache she didn’t know how to soothe.

She turned to Junji, her voice cracking. “What should I do?”

Junji studied her carefully, her expression thoughtful. “That depends, Ling. What do you want?”

Lingling’s lips trembled as she shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if Orm... if she still wants me. She probably thinks I’ve moved on—with Sonya.”

Junji tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening. “Do you think she really believes that?”

Lingling hesitated, the memory of Orm’s expression from the Dior event flashing in her mind. The raw emotion in her eyes, the pain she tried to hide—it wasn’t the look of someone who had let go.

“I don’t know,” Lingling whispered. “But I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I haven’t done anything to make her think otherwise.”

Junji gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Then maybe that’s where you start. Show her the truth.”

Lingling’s chest tightened. “What if it’s too late? What if she’s already convinced herself I’ve moved on?”

Junji leaned forward, her voice steady. “Orm’s been carrying this truth for years, Ling. She hasn’t let go of you, even when it might’ve been easier to. If she thought you were with Sonya, she wouldn’t have tried to tell you the truth last night. She wouldn’t still be fighting for you.”

Lingling’s tears spilled over again as she whispered, “I’m scared.”

Junji reached out, taking her hands gently. “It’s okay to be scared. But if you still care about her—and I know you do—you have to decide if you’re ready to take that first step. The rest will follow.”

Lingling nodded slowly, her tears falling freely. “What if I mess it up?”

Junji gave her a warm, reassuring smile. “You won’t. You know the truth now, and so does she. The only thing left is to see if you both have the courage to face it together.”

Lingling leaned back, her head resting on the couch as she stared at the ceiling. Her heart was still heavy, but there was a flicker of determination beneath the pain.

She didn’t have all the answers yet. And Orm might think she had already moved on.

But if she was going to take the first step, she had to find a way to show Orm that Sonya wasn’t in her heart.

Because no matter how much time had passed, no matter how much pain had built between them, her heart had always belonged to Orm and will always be, she’s been in love with Orm for years now and she knew that her heart never forgot to whom it belongs.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late.

Orm point of view

The room felt still, the kind of quiet that carried weight. Orm sat across from Mae at the small kitchen table, her hands wrapped tightly around the teacup. She had avoided this conversation for years, burying it beneath layers of shame and fear.

But now, with Namtan and Film’s words from the previous night echoing in her mind, something inside her stirred—a flicker of bravery she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Mae was watching her carefully, her sharp, knowing eyes searching Orm’s face. She could sense something was coming.

“Mae,” Orm began, her voice trembling slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Mae set her cup down, her expression softening but remaining serious. “Go on, N’Orm.”

Orm exhaled shakily, her gaze dropping to the table. “You remember the night of Popor’s party? The one everyone kept talking about... the one that changed everything?”

Mae nodded slowly, her brows knitting together. “Of course I remember. You came home so quiet, so... distant. You never told me what really happened.”

Orm’s throat tightened. She could feel the weight of the truth pressing against her chest, but she forced herself to speak. “I wasn’t honest with you. Or with Ling.” Her voice cracked as she continued. “Popor... she didn’t just lie about us being together. She tried to... she tried to take advantage of me that night.”

Mae’s breath caught, her hand flying to her chest. “What?”

Orm nodded, tears filling her eyes. “I was so drunk, Mae. I didn’t even realize what was happening at first. She took me into a private room, and I... I thought she was just helping me. But then...” Her voice broke as the memories came flooding back.

Mae reached across the table, grabbing Orm’s trembling hands. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anger and sadness. “What happened next?”

“Kate, Nene, and Smith—they found me in time. They pulled her away before... before it could go any further. And Film and Namtan were the ones who realized something was wrong and pushed them to check on me.” Orm wiped at her tears, her hands shaking. “They saved me, Mae. But after that, I couldn’t face anyone. I was so ashamed. I didn’t know how to tell Ling. And then Popor started spreading her lies, and I... I let her.”

Mae’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she squeezed Orm’s hands tightly. “You didn’t let her, N’Orm. You were scared. You were hurt. And you thought staying silent was the easiest way to make it go away. But I would have liked for you to trust me enough to confess darling,”

Orm shook her head, her voice thick with emotion. “But it didn’t go away, Mae. It’s followed me everywhere. And because I didn’t speak up, Popor got to control the narrative. She made everyone—including Ling—believe that I chose her. That I betrayed Ling.”

Mae stood up suddenly, moving to Orm’s side and wrapping her in a tight embrace. “You didn’t betray her, my child.  And Popor... she’s the one who should feel ashamed—not you.”

Orm leaned into her mother’s embrace, the warmth and safety of Mae’s arms soothing the ache in her chest.

“I’ve spent so many years running from this,” Orm whispered. “But last night, Namtan and Film told me I can’t let Popor keep controlling my life. They said it’s time to take it back.”

Mae pulled back slightly, cupping Orm’s tear-streaked face in her hands. “They’re right, N’Orm. You’ve carried this burden alone for far too long. It’s time to speak your truth—to Ling, to the world, to anyone who needs to hear it.”

Orm nodded, though her tears continued to fall. “I’m scared, Mae. What if Ling doesn’t believe me? What if it’s too late?”

Mae’s gaze was steady and filled with love. “It’s never too late to be honest, N’Orm. And Ling... she loved you once. She still does. I can see it. Give her the chance to hear you, to understand.”

Orm wiped her face, a flicker of determination breaking through her fear. “I’m going to do it, Mae. I’m going to tell her everything. And I’m not going to let Popor dictate my life anymore.”

Mae smiled through her tears, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s my girl.”

For the first time in years, Orm felt lighter, as though a weight she had carried for far too long was finally beginning to lift.

The road ahead was uncertain, but she knew one thing:

She wasn’t going to let fear hold her back anymore.

Ling point of view

Lingling sat at the small table in Junji’s cozy kitchen, her fingers wrapped tightly around the warm ceramic mug of tea. Despite the comforting surroundings, her heart felt heavy, her mind racing with everything Junji had just revealed.

Junji watched her carefully from across the table, giving her space to process. Lingling hadn’t spoken in minutes, and the silence felt like it was stretching endlessly.

Finally, Lingling broke the quiet, her voice barely above a whisper. “All this time, I thought I knew what happened. I thought she... I thought she chose Popor over me.”

Junji’s expression softened as she leaned forward slightly. “I know, Ling. But now you know that wasn’t the truth.”

Lingling looked up, her eyes red and glistening. “But why didn’t she tell me? Why did she let me hate her all these years?” Her voice cracked, a mix of anger and heartbreak.

Junji sighed, resting her elbows on the table. “I can’t answer that for her, Ling. But I can tell you this—sometimes people stay silent because they think it’s easier. Because they’re afraid the truth will hurt more than the lie.”

Lingling shook her head, her tears spilling over. “But the lie did hurt more. It ruined everything.”

Junji reached out, placing a comforting hand on Lingling’s. “You’re right. It did. But now that you know, what do you want to do about it?”

Lingling’s chest tightened as she stared down at the table. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t even know if I can face her right now. Seeing her last night, with Popor in the same room... it was too much.”

Junji nodded, her voice gentle. “You’ve been holding onto this pain for so long, Ling. It’s going to take time to unravel it all. But you don’t have to decide everything today.”

Lingling wiped her tears with trembling hands, her voice trembling. “I just... I don’t know how to forgive her. And I don’t know how to forgive myself for believing the worst about her.”

Junji gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Forgiveness doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a process. And it starts with understanding—not just her, but yourself too.”

Lingling nodded slowly, though her heart still felt like it was breaking. She thought back to Orm’s face the night before—the way she had looked at her, as though the weight of the world rested on that moment.

“Do you think she still cares?” Lingling asked suddenly, her voice small.

Junji smiled softly. “What do you think?”

Lingling thought about the way Orm had tried to speak, the desperation in her eyes, the way she had fought to hold Lingling’s gaze even as Sonya led her away.

“She does,” Lingling whispered, her chest tightening. “But what if it’s too late? What if I’ve pushed her too far away?”

Junji’s voice was steady. “If it were too late, Ling, she wouldn’t have tried to tell you the truth last night. She wouldn’t have waited all these years.”

Lingling’s tears started to fall again, and she wiped them away quickly. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face her.”

Junji gave her a kind smile. “You’re stronger than you think, Ling. And when you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

Lingling nodded, though the uncertainty still weighed heavily on her. She didn’t know when she would be ready—or if she ever truly would be.

But as she sat there, surrounded by Junji’s quiet support, one thing became clear:

If she didn’t face Orm, she would never be able to move forward.

And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late for them after all.

Lingling’s phone buzzed on the table, lighting up with Sonya’s name. She hesitated for a moment before picking it up, glancing at Junji, who was watching her silently.

“Hi, Sonya,” Lingling answered softly.

“Hey,” Sonya’s voice came through, warm but careful. “I just wanted to check on you. I know you said last night you needed space, but... I couldn’t help worrying.”

Lingling sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I appreciate it, Sonya. Really. I’m okay—I’m just trying to process everything.”

Sonya’s voice softened. “I get it. If you need me, I’m here, Ling. No pressure, just... if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Lingling felt her chest tighten. Sonya’s kindness had always been unwavering, even after their conversation the night before, where Ling had been honest about her feelings—or lack thereof. Sonya hadn’t pressed, but Ling knew she still cared deeply.

“Thank you,” Lingling replied, her voice gentle. “I’m okay for now, but I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Alright,” Sonya said after a brief pause. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. You too,” Lingling said, her voice soft. They exchanged goodbyes, and Ling set the phone down with a sigh.

Junji raised an eyebrow from across the table. “She’s still checking in, huh?”

Lingling nodded, glancing at her hands. “She’s just being kind.”

Junji tilted her head slightly, her tone curious but careful. “And she’s okay with everything? After what you told her?”

Lingling hesitated. “She’s trying to be. I told her the truth last night—about how I feel. Or, more accurately, how I don’t feel.”

Junji nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. At least you were honest. But is she really okay, or is she just pretending to be?”

Lingling frowned, her chest tightening. “I don’t know. She said she understood, but... I can tell it still hurts her. And I hate that.”

Junji reached for her cup of tea, her voice gentle but firm. “You did the right thing, Ling. If she’s still checking on you, it’s because she cares, not because she’s expecting anything to change. But you have to be careful. Even kindness can blur lines if you’re not careful.”

Lingling nodded slowly. “I know. I just... I don’t want to push her away completely. She’s been so good to me.”

Junji gave her a small smile. “You don’t have to push her away, but you do need to set clear boundaries. If Sonya’s going to stay in your life, it has to be on terms that don’t hurt either of you.”

Lingling sighed, leaning her head against the back of the chair. “Why does everything feel so complicated?”

Junji chuckled softly, taking a sip of her tea. “Because love always is. But at least you’re being honest with yourself—and with her. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Lingling gave a faint smile, though her chest still felt heavy. She appreciated Sonya’s kindness and support, but her heart had never been hers to give. And now, with Orm’s confession and the truth about Popor resurfacing, Lingling knew she needed to face the past before she could move forward.

Orm point of view

The hum of the car engine filled the space as Orm stared out the window, watching the city pass by in a blur. Her thoughts were a mess, tangled with the echoes of last night, the words she didn’t get to say, and the countless headlines that had been relentlessly buzzing on her phone.

Mae sat beside her, calm and composed, her hands folded neatly on her lap. She glanced at Orm, her gaze soft but knowing.

“You’re quiet, N’Orm,” Mae said gently, breaking the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Orm sighed, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. “Everything, Mae. The Dior event, the headlines, Popor... Ling.” Her voice cracked slightly at the last name, but she quickly cleared her throat. “I feel like I can’t escape it.”

Mae nodded thoughtfully. “You can’t control what people say, N’Orm. But you can control how you respond. That’s what matters.”

Orm turned to face her, her brows furrowed. “How am I supposed to respond when they keep dragging up things that aren’t true? They’re talking about me and Popor like there’s still something between us.”

Mae’s gaze sharpened slightly. “That’s because Popor hasn’t let go of the narrative she created. But the truth has a way of coming out, N’Orm. And when it does, you need to stand tall.”

Orm’s hands tightened in her lap. “What if it’s too late for that? What if Ling already believes everything Popor said? I tried to tell her last night, but...”

Mae reached over, placing a firm hand on Orm’s knee. “It’s not too late. You said she asked you for the truth, didn’t she? That means part of her still wants to believe you. You just need to show her that you’re ready to fight for it now.”

As the car pulled up to the Channel 3 building, Orm felt a wave of unease wash over her. The sleek glass facade of the building reflected the bright sunlight, but the crowd gathered outside dimmed her optimism.

Paparazzi and reporters clustered near the entrance, cameras in hand, waiting for their next headline. Orm’s stomach churned.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath. “They’re here for me.”

Mae leaned forward, her gaze narrowing. “Not just you. They’re here for a story. Don’t give it to them unless it’s on your terms.”

Orm nodded, taking a deep breath. The driver stepped out to open her door, and the noise hit her immediately—camera shutters clicking, voices shouting questions, flashes blinding her as she stepped out of the car.

“Orm! Over here!”

“Are the rumors about you and Popor true?”

“Orm, any comment on Lingling and Sonya? Is there still tension?”

The questions came rapid-fire, each one landing like a blow. Orm kept her face composed, her head held high as Mae stepped beside her, a steadying presence.

“Keep walking, N’Orm,” Mae said quietly, her tone firm. “Don’t let them rattle you.”

But one question stopped Orm in her tracks.

“Orm, do you regret what happened with Lingling?”

She turned slightly, her breath catching. The reporter who had asked was holding a microphone, his gaze sharp and expectant.

Orm’s heart pounded. The weight of the question hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, she felt like the world had gone silent, every eye fixed on her.

Mae stepped closer, her voice low. “Not here, N’Orm. This isn’t the time.”

Orm hesitated, her chest tightening. She wanted to say something, to defend herself, to defend Ling. But the swarm of cameras and microphones felt suffocating, and Mae’s steady hand on her arm grounded her.

Taking a deep breath, Orm straightened her posture and gave a small, polite smile. “I have no comment at this time.”

The reporters groaned, some shouting follow-up questions, but Orm kept walking, her gaze fixed on the building ahead. Mae stayed close, her presence reassuring.

As they entered the building, the noise faded, replaced by the cool, quiet hum of the lobby. Orm let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Mae turned to her, her expression firm but proud. “You handled that well, N’Orm. You don’t owe them anything right now. Save your words for the people who matter.”

Orm nodded, though her chest still felt heavy. She knew Mae was right, but the reporter’s question lingered in her mind.

Do you regret what happened with Lingling?

Her answer, if she had the courage to say it, would have been simple: Every single day.

Ling point of view

The evening air was warm, the golden hues of sunset fading into the deep blue of night as Lingling sat on her couch, staring at the clock on the wall. The soft hum of the city outside her window felt distant, a muffled echo of the life she wasn’t engaging with.

She had been waiting for P’Mam to arrive, her thoughts tangled in the events of the past day. The truth Junji had revealed, the weight of Orm’s unfinished confession at the Dior event, and now the headlines that had followed Orm to the Channel 3 building.

Her phone sat on the coffee table in front of her, the screen lighting up every few minutes with new notifications. Lingling ignored most of them, but one name stood out as she glanced down.

Orm Kornnaphat Seen at Channel 3: Refuses to Comment on Lingling and Popor Drama.

Lingling exhaled sharply, her chest tightening as she picked up the phone. She read the headline again, the words blurring slightly. Her thumb hovered over the article link before she finally clicked.

The accompanying photo showed Orm stepping out of a car, her expression calm and composed despite the chaos of reporters surrounding her. But Lingling knew Orm too well to miss the tension in her posture, the slight clench of her jaw.

The article was the same as all the others—speculation, half-truths, and wild assumptions. But one line stood out:

“When asked if she regretted what happened with Lingling, Orm declined to comment.”

Lingling stared at the words, her emotions a tangled mess. She felt frustration, confusion, and an ache she couldn’t quite name. No comment. Did that mean Orm regretted it? Or that she didn’t? Why couldn’t she just say it?

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her thoughts. P’Mam walked in, r as she set her bag down on the counter.

“Hey P’Mam,” Lingling said, her voice soft but steady.

“Hello darling” answers P’Mam

Lingling hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Did you... see the headlines?”

P’Mam nodded, her expression unreadable. “I did. The press is relentless, as usual.”

Lingling sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she just tell them the truth?”

P’Mam’s brows lifted slightly, but her tone remained calm. “And what truth would she have told them, Ling? Do you even know what she’s ready to say?”

Lingling blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I... I don’t know. I thought she wanted to tell me everything last night, but...” Her voice trailed off, the weight of the unfinished conversation hanging in the air.

P’Mam leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Orm’s carrying a lot, Ling. And from what I’ve seen, so are you. Maybe she’s not ready to tell the world because she hasn’t even told you yet.”

Lingling’s throat tightened, and she looked down at her hands. “I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it.”

P’Mam’s voice softened. “That’s okay. But when you are, you need to ask yourself something important: What do you want? Not what the press wants, not what Sonya wants, not even what Orm wants. What does Ling want?”

Lingling looked up at her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t know.”

P’Mam gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Then figure that out first. And when you’re ready, everything else will fall into place.”

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Lingling knew P’Mam was right, but the thought of facing Orm, of hearing the truth after all these years, terrified her.

For now, all she could do was wait.

But in the quiet of her heart, Lingling knew the waiting wouldn’t last forever.