Chapter 5
Orm point of view
The warm scent of coffee and toast filled the air as Orm sat at the kitchen table in Namtan and Film’s cozy apartment. The sunlight streaming through the large windows did little to ease the heaviness in her chest. She had barely touched her cup of coffee, her fingers tracing the rim absently as her thoughts spiraled.
Across from her, Namtan leaned back in her chair, her gaze steady but gentle. Film stood by the counter, buttering a slice of toast, her movements slow and deliberate. The atmosphere was calm, but Orm could feel their eyes on her, waiting for her to speak.
“You’re overthinking again,” Namtan said, her voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence that had settled between them.
Orm managed a shaky laugh, barely lifting her eyes to meet her friend's. “How could I not?” she said, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her cup. “I haven’t even spoken to Ling yet.”
Film, who had been silently organizing utensils on the counter, turned sharply, leaning back with her arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a sharpness in her tone. “And do you plan to? Have you seen what people are saying on social media?”
Namtan shot her girlfriend a warning glance, her brows knitting together in silent reproach. Don’t push her. But Film knew Orm too well to pull her punches—and Namtan knew Film too well to try stopping her.
Orm’s grip on the cup tightened. The faint tremor in her hands mirrored the unsteady rhythm in her chest. She swallowed hard, her voice barely more than a whisper. “About her and Sonya? Yeah, I’ve seen it. Thanks for reminding me.” She let out a bitter laugh, her words like shards of glass. “That I lost the love of my life.”
The air in the room thickened, heavy and charged. Namtan and Film froze, the weight of Orm’s confession hitting them like a sudden gust of wind. Orm could feel their eyes on her, their unspoken questions. She glanced up, catching the startled look that passed between them.
The words hung there, unclaimed and unchangeable. Love of my life. She hadn’t even realized she’d said it out loud until she saw their faces.
Orm let out a long breath, her voice quieter now, almost to herself. “I didn’t mean to—forget it.”
“Forget it?” Film’s voice cut through the room like a blade, sharper than Orm expected. She straightened from where she was leaning against the counter, her arms falling to her sides as she stepped closer. “You don’t just say something like that and then act like it doesn’t matter, Orm.”
Orm blinked, startled by the edge in Film’s tone. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered, shrinking into herself as if the words could shield her.
“Oh, really?” Film’s laugh was humorless, biting. “So what, it just slipped out? Because it sure as hell sounded like you meant every word.”
“Film,” Namtan interjected, her voice calm but firm. She reached for her girlfriend’s hand, a silent plea for her to back down. But Film pulled away, her frustration bubbling over.
“No, Namtan. I’m tired of tiptoeing around this,” Film snapped, her eyes never leaving Orm. “You say Ling’s the love of your life, but you won’t even talk to her. You let social media and gossip get in your head, and then you sit here acting like you’re the victim.”
Orm’s chest tightened, her pulse pounding in her ears. “I’m not—”
“Then what are you doing, Orm?” Film’s voice rose, cutting her off. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re just running away. From her, from yourself—hell, even from us.”
“Film, stop,” Namtan said sharply, stepping between them. Her gaze softened when it landed on Orm, who looked as though she might crumble under the weight of Film’s words. “This isn’t helping.”
But Film wasn’t finished. “No, maybe it’s not. But someone needs to say it.” She threw her hands up in frustration, pacing the small kitchen. “Ling’s out there, probably thinking you don’t care, and here you are, wallowing and pretending like you don’t have a choice.”
Orm’s voice cracked when she finally spoke, quiet but filled with raw emotion. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself every day for letting her go?”
Film froze mid-step, her back to them, her shoulders tense. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the refrigerator. Namtan placed a hand gently on Orm’s shoulder, her touch grounding.
“Orm,” Namtan said softly, her voice steady, “you don’t have to do this alone. But Film’s right about one thing—you have to do something. Ling isn’t going to wait forever.”
Orm nodded slowly, her throat too tight to speak. She could feel the weight of Film’s words settling over her, uncomfortable but undeniable.
Film turned back, her expression less fiery now, though her frustration still lingered. “Look,” she said, her tone softer but still firm. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here. I just… I hate seeing you like this. And I hate knowing that you’re the one standing in your own way.”
Orm looked down at her cup, the tea inside now cold and forgotten. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can fix this.”
“You don’t have to fix everything all at once,” Namtan said gently. “Just take the first step.”
“And maybe stop telling yourself you’ve already lost,” Film added, her voice softening further. “Because you haven’t—not yet.”
Ling point of view
The road stretched out before her, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. Lingling gripped the steering wheel tightly, her chest heavy with a mix of emotions she couldn’t fully name. She hadn’t planned on driving to her parents’ house—she hadn’t planned much of anything lately. But the weight of everything had become unbearable, and she needed to escape, to breathe.
Her phone buzzed in the passenger seat. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached over, glancing at the screen. P’Mam.
She hesitated for a moment before answering, pressing the speaker button.
“Ling, where are you?” P’Mam’s voice was calm but concerned, as always.
“I’m on my way to my parents’ house,” Lingling said, her voice quieter than she intended.
“Is everything okay?” P’Mam asked gently.
Lingling let out a shaky breath, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I don’t know. I just... I need some time, P’Mam. Time to figure things out.”
There was a pause on the other end, and Lingling could almost hear P’Mam choosing her words carefully. “Is this about Orm?”
Lingling’s grip on the wheel tightened. “It’s about everything. Orm, the headlines, the Dior event... Popor. I can’t keep pretending I’m fine, P’Mam. I need space to think.”
P’Mam’s voice softened. “That’s fair, Ling. But don’t shut everyone out, okay? You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Lingling felt a pang of guilt at the worry in P’Mam’s tone. “I’m not shutting anyone out. I just... I need to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere safe.”
“And your parents know you’re coming?” P’Mam asked.
“I called them earlier,” Lingling said, nodding as though P’Mam could see her. “They’re expecting me to be honest, they know me well.” she tried to joke
P’Mam’s tone was steady. “Good. That’s good. But Ling... don’t take too long to face this. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”
Lingling swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “I know. I just need a little time to breathe. That’s all.”
“Alright,” P’Mam said gently. “I’ll check in later. And Ling... be kind to yourself, okay?”
Lingling blinked back tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll try.”
They exchanged quiet goodbyes, and Lingling ended the call, her hands gripping the wheel tightly again.
As the familiar streets of her hometown came into view, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. The sight of the small, cozy houses, the trees lining the streets, the faint glow of lights in the windows—it all felt like a balm for her aching heart.
But even as she pulled into the driveway of her parents’ home, her thoughts remained tangled.
What was she really running from? Orm? The truth? Or the feelings she had tried so hard to bury but couldn’t?
Lingling stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face any of it, but for now, she just needed to be here.
_______________________
The familiar scent of jasmine greeted Lingling as she stepped into her parents’ house. It was a small comfort, grounding her in the warm memories of childhood. Her mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, her face lighting up in surprise.
“N’Ling! My baby. How are you?” she said, her voice filled with equal parts warmth and curiosity.
Lingling managed a small smile as she slipped off her shoes. “I needed to get away for a bit, Mae. It’s been... a lot.”
Her mother’s expression softened, and she gestured for Lingling to sit in the living room. “Come, sit. I’ll make some tea. Your father will be arriving in a bit.”
Lingling sank into the couch, the weight in her chest easing slightly in the familiar space. As her mother busied herself in the kitchen, Lingling pulled out her phone. The screen lit up with notifications—headlines speculating about her and Orm, posts about the Dior event, and even photos from the night circulating like wildfire.
Her thumb hovered over an article headline: “Lingling and Orm: A Love Story Rekindling or a Story Too Far Gone?”
She clicked on it hesitantly, scanning the text. The words twisted the events of the previous night, painting them as a dramatic showdown between her and Orm, with Popor and Sonya in the mix as supporting characters.
The article was wrong in almost every detail, but the narrative still stung. Her gaze lingered on a line about Orm: “When asked if she regretted what happened with Lingling, Orm declined to comment.”
Lingling’s chest tightened. She set the phone down on the table, exhaling sharply.
“Still looking at those articles?” her mother’s voice came gently from behind her, a tray of tea and snacks in her hands.
Lingling looked up, forcing a small smile. “It’s hard not to.”
Her mother set the tray down and took a seat beside her. “They’re just words, N’Ling. You know what’s real in your heart.”
Lingling hesitated, picking up her cup of tea. “That’s the problem, Mae. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
Her mother studied her for a moment, her gaze filled with quiet understanding. “Is this about Orm?”
Lingling froze, her grip tightening on the cup. She nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She came to me at the Dior event. She wanted to tell me something... about Popor. But I couldn’t—I couldn’t stay and listen. And actually Sonya king of help with that since she clearly cut Orm in the middle of her sentence”
Her mother was taken a bit aback by the mention of Sonya interrupting. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“What? Mae of course not ? You’re believing these headlines?” asks Ling a bit shock by her mother’s implying this
“No of course not, I was just not expecting her to intervene in a conversation between you and Orm” she says quietly, looking at her daughter's features, she had lost some weight, she didn’t want to push her further and just waited in silence for Ling to speak.
Lingling’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at her mother. “What if I waited too long? What if I can’t forgive her?”
Her mother’s voice was soft but steady. “Forgiveness isn’t about the other person, my child. It’s about freeing yourself. If you still care about her, if she still matters to you, then you owe it to yourself to hear her out.”
Lingling’s tears spilled over, and she quickly wiped them away. “I’m scared, Mae. What if the truth changes everything?”
Her mother gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Maybe it will. But maybe that’s exactly what you need.”
Orm point of view
The city lights flickered to life as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sleek facade of Lingling’s apartment building. Orm stood outside the door, her heart pounding, her breath shaky. She had rehearsed her words over and over during the drive here, but now, as she stood in front of Ling’s door, everything she’d planned felt fragile, ready to shatter under the weight of her emotions.
She rang the doorbell once, then again, leaning closer as if she might hear something—anything—on the other side. But the silence felt deafening. Ling wasn’t home.
Orm pressed her palm against the doorframe, exhaling slowly. Disappointment swirled in her chest, but she reminded herself that this wasn’t the end. She had waited years to tell Ling the truth—she could wait a little longer.
Before she could turn to leave, the sound of the elevator dinging down the hall caught her attention. Orm turned to see Junji stepping out, a bag of groceries tucked under one arm.
Junji froze in place for a moment when she saw Orm, her expression shifting from surprise to something more cautious. She walked toward Orm with a measured pace, her eyes scanning her like she was trying to read her intentions.
“Orm,” Junji greeted, her tone neutral but heavy with unspoken meaning. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
Orm straightened, her nerves prickling under Junji’s sharp gaze. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since the fallout with Ling, but Orm remembered how close they had once been. Junji had always been like a big sister to Ling, fiercely protective and quick to call out anyone who hurt her.
“I needed to talk to Ling,” Orm said, trying to keep her voice steady. “But... she’s not here.”
Junji nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. “She left earlier. Went to her parents’ place.”
Orm’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I didn’t know.”
Junji shifted her bag to her other arm, studying Orm carefully. “Why now, Orm? After all this time, why show up here unannounced?”
Orm hesitated, her hands slipping into her jacket pockets. “Because it’s time. I should’ve told her the truth years ago, but I didn’t. And that’s on me.”
Junji raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly. “The truth? About what? All I’ve ever heard are rumors—and I’ve been piecing things together, but I never got the full story. So why don’t you tell me?”
Orm’s stomach twisted. “Junji, I—”
“Don’t,” Junji interrupted, her voice sharp but not unkind. “If you’re serious about fixing things with Ling, you owe it to her—and to me—to finally tell the truth. What really happened that night with Popor?”
The question hit Orm like a punch to the chest. She looked down, her jaw tightening as the memories surged forward. She had buried them for so long, locked them away where they couldn’t hurt her—or anyone else.
“Junji...” Orm’s voice was quiet, trembling slightly. “It wasn’t what people think. Popor... she lied about everything.”
Junji put a bag down but her gaze was unwavering. “I figured that much. But what exactly happened?”
Orm closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, she met Junji’s gaze head-on. “I was drunk—too drunk to realize what was happening. Popor took me to a private room, and I thought she was helping me, but she wasn’t. She tried to—” Orm’s voice broke, and she looked away, her hands clenched at her sides. “She tried to take advantage of me.”
Junji’s face softened slightly, but her tone remained steady, she needed to be harsh to know the truth, because if this is true, Ling is going to murder Popor. “And? How did it stop?”
“Kate, Nene, and Smith showed up,” Orm said, her voice cracking. “They pulled her away. And Namtan and Film—they were the ones who realized something was wrong, they were already at the party when they arrived after me and got them to check on me. They saved me, Junji. But after that... I couldn’t face anyone. I didn’t know how to tell Ling, so I didn’t. I didn’t even tell my mother until recently. And Popor spread her lies, and I just... let her.”
Junji exhaled slowly, setting the other grocery bag on the floor. She looked at Orm for a long moment, her expression a mix of anger and sadness. “All this time, Ling thought you betrayed her. She thought you chose Popor over her.”
“I know,” Orm said, her voice trembling. “And it’s my fault. I didn’t fight for her, Junji. I was too ashamed, too scared, and I let her believe the worst about me.”
Junji’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she stepped closer, her voice softening. “Orm, do you still love her?”
Orm’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she nodded. “I’ve never stopped.”
Junji placed a hand on her shoulder, her grip firm but comforting. “Then you need to tell her everything. No more running, no more excuses. But you have to be prepared for the possibility that she might not be ready to hear it.”
“I know,” Orm whispered. “But I have to try.”
Junji gave her a small nod. “Good. Ling deserves the truth. And so do you.”
As Junji bent down to pick up her bag, she added, “For what it’s worth, Orm... I believe you. And I think Ling still cares about you, even if she doesn’t know how to show it.”
Orm’s chest tightened as she watched Junji disappear into Ling’s apartment. She stood there for a moment, her emotions swirling.
For the first time in years, she felt like she was taking a step toward something—not running away. She left Ling’s apartment building with a sense of resolve. The truth had to come out, no matter how painful it might be. And when the time came, she would be ready to tell Ling everything. That she loves her, always has and always will.
__________________________________________________
Orm stood in her small apartment, staring at the untouched mug of tea on her counter. She had barely slept since leaving Lingling’s building, Junji’s words replaying in her mind.
"You need to tell her everything. No more running, no more excuses.."
The truth. It sounded simple, but the weight of it felt like a mountain pressing down on her.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from Namtan.
Namtan:“Any news? Did you tell her yet?”
Orm typed back quickly: “She wasn’t home. I’ll try again soon.”
Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.
Namtan:“Don’t wait too long, Orm. Popor’s already stirring things up again. You need to be the one to control the narrative. We try to handle it with Film on our side, people start to know the truth, that bitch is afraid”
Orm sighed, setting her phone down. Namtan was right—Popor was relentless, and the longer Orm stayed silent, the more damage she could do. But if people started to know the truth, she needs to be the first to tell Ling everything.
But more than that, Orm knew Lingling deserved the truth. Not just about Popor, but about everything—her silence, her regrets, and the love she had never stopped feeling.
Taking a deep breath, Orm grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, she needed to walk. She didn’t know how Ling would react, but she couldn’t run from this any longer.
If Lingling needed time, Orm would give it to her. But when the moment came, she would be ready to tell her everything.
Ling point of view
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Lingling sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm light over the room. Her childhood home hadn’t changed much—same floral wallpaper, same bookshelves cluttered with old memories—but tonight, it felt heavier. Familiar, yet stifling.
She leaned back against the headboard, staring at her phone resting on the blanket beside her. The notifications from the day were still there, unread—headlines, social media tags, and messages she didn’t have the energy to open. She had come here to escape all of that, but it felt like no matter where she went, the weight of the past followed her.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts. The screen lit up with a name she didn’t need to think twice about: Junji.
Lingling hesitated for a moment before picking it up, unlocking the screen to read the message.
Junji:“Orm came to your apartment earlier. She wanted to talk to you.”
Lingling’s heart skipped a beat, her stomach twisting as her grip tightened on the phone. She stared at the words, her thoughts racing.
Another message popped up almost immediately:
Junji:“I think she’s ready to tell you everything, Ling. She didn’t say much, but it’s clear she’s trying. You’ve waited for answers for years—don’t let the moment slip by.”
Lingling exhaled shakily, her chest tightening. The words hit harder than she expected. Orm had come to see her. She was trying.
Her phone buzzed again:
Junji:“I know it’s hard. But the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to face her—and yourself. What are you so afraid of?”
Lingling set the phone down beside her, running a hand through her hair. The question echoed in her mind. What am I afraid of?
She knew the answer. She was afraid of the truth. Afraid it would hurt more than the lies she had believed for years. But she was also afraid of something else—what if Orm’s truth made her realize she’d been wrong about everything?
The knock on her door startled her, and her mother’s voice followed softly. “N’Ling? You’re still awake?”
Lingling cleared her throat. “Yeah, Mae. Come in.”
Her mother stepped inside, her kind eyes immediately noticing the tension in Lingling’s posture. She sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Lingling’s face.
“You’ve been quiet all evening,” Mae said gently. “What’s on your mind?”
Lingling hesitated, glancing at her phone before looking back at her mother. “I got a message from P’Junji. She said... Orm came to my place earlier. She wanted to talk to me.”
Mae’s expression softened, and she nodded slowly. “And how do you feel about that?”
Lingling bit her lip, her eyes shimmering. “I don’t know. Part of me wants to hear her out, but the other part... I’m scared, Mae. What if I can’t handle the truth?”
Mae reached for Lingling’s hand, holding it tightly. “The truth can be painful, my child. But it’s also what sets us free. If you still care about Orm, if she still matters to you, then maybe it’s time to face it.”
Lingling shook her head, her voice trembling. “But what if the truth changes everything? What if I’ve been wrong all this time?”
Her mother’s voice was steady, filled with quiet wisdom. “Then you learn to forgive—yourself, and Orm. But you’ll never know if you don’t give her the chance to speak.”
Lingling wiped a tear from her cheek, her chest heavy with the weight of her emotions. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Mae smiled gently, squeezing her hand. “No one is ever fully ready for these moments, my darling. But sometimes, we have to take the leap anyway.”
Lingling nodded slowly, the words settling over her like a soft blanket. She wasn’t sure what she would do next, but one thing was clear: Running from Orm and the truth was no longer an option.
She sat further her bed, her mother’s words echoing in her mind. The truth can be painful, but it sets us free. She glanced at her phone one last time, Junji’s messages still on the screen, and let out a deep sigh.
Her emotions were a tangled mess, but exhaustion was beginning to creep in. She set her phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into a soft, calming darkness. Bobo, her childhood dog, padded in silently and curled up at the foot of her bed, his presence a small comfort.
As Lingling lay back, pulling the blanket over herself, her thoughts drifted to Orm—her eyes at the Dior event, the unspoken words, the years of misunderstandings between them.
She closed her eyes, her breath steadying. For now, she needed rest. Tomorrow would bring whatever it would bring, but tonight, she would let herself sleep.
Orm point of view
Orm sat on the edge of her couch, her apartment dimly lit by the glow of the city lights streaming through the windows. She had been staring at her phone for what felt like hours, Namtan’s earlier message still lingering in her mind: “Don’t wait too long, Orm. Popor’s already stirring things up again. You need to be the one to control the narrative.”
Control. The word felt foreign to her. For years, Orm had let Popor’s lies dictate everything—the way Lingling saw her, the way she saw herself. But after last night, and Junji’s unexpected support, she felt something new stirring inside her: determination.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, her heart skipping a beat when she saw who it was.
Namtan:“Smith just confirmed Popor’s trying to spin something again. Kate, Nene, and I are on it, but we thought you should know.”
Orm clenched her jaw, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She typed back quickly:
Orm:“Thanks. Let me know if you need anything.”
She set the phone down, her chest tightening. She knew she couldn’t ignore this any longer. Popor’s lies had caused enough damage, and if she wanted any chance of fixing things with Lingling, she needed to take control—not just of the narrative, but of her life.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Orm frowned, glancing at the clock. It was late—too late for visitors. She stood cautiously, walking to the door and peeking through the peephole.
To her surprise, it was Film.
Orm opened the door, her brows furrowed. “Film? What are you doing here?”
Film stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her expression serious. “I figured you’d be stewing alone in here. Thought you could use some company.”
Orm sighed, closing the door behind her. “I’m fine.”
Film raised an eyebrow. “Are you? Because last night, you looked like you were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
Orm didn’t respond, instead sinking back onto the couch. Film sat across from her, crossing her arms.
“Look, I get it,” Film began. “You’re scared. But Orm, you’ve been scared for years. It’s time to do something about it.”
Orm met her gaze, her voice quiet. “I’m trying.”
“Trying isn’t enough,” Film said firmly. “Ling deserves the truth. She deserves to know that Popor’s been lying, that you’ve been waiting for her, that—”
“I know!” Orm snapped, her voice trembling. “I know, Film. You don’t think I’ve been living with this every day? You don’t think I hate myself for letting things get this far?”
Film’s expression softened, and she leaned forward. “I know you do, Orm. That’s why I’m here—to remind you that you don’t have to fix this alone. We’ve got your back.”
Orm swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the couch. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Film reached out, resting a hand on Orm’s knee. “Start with Ling. Go to her, tell her everything. Let her decide what happens next. But don’t let Popor, or your fear, take this away from you.”
Orm nodded slowly, her chest tightening. “What if she doesn’t believe me?”
Film gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But knowing Ling... I think she’ll believe you.”
Orm leaned back against the couch, running a hand through her hair. Film’s words hung in the air, both a challenge and a lifeline. She looked at her friend, her voice tinged with exasperation and uncertainty.
“Are you telling me to go to her parents’ house?” Orm asked, her tone half-serious, half-incredulous.
Film’s lips twitched into a grin, and then she laughed, shaking her head. “N’Orm, I didn’t say to crash family dinner.” She leaned back, crossing her arms. “But... if that’s what it takes, maybe?”
Orm groaned, burying her face in her hands. “You can’t be serious.”
Film smirked. “I’m just saying, if you want to be bold, that’s one way to do it. Besides,” she added, her grin widening, “Namtan already told me about your little run-in with Junji last night.”
Orm froze, peeking through her fingers. “She told you?”
“Of course she did,” Film said with a shrug. “Junji’s practically Ling’s big sister. If she’s nudging you toward fixing things, that’s a pretty big deal.”
Orm sighed, leaning back against the couch. “It didn’t feel like a nudge. It felt like... like I was under interrogation.”
Film chuckled. “Junji’s good at that. But don’t you think it says something that she’s still giving you a chance? If she thought you were a lost cause, she wouldn’t bother.”
Orm hesitated, her mind flashing back to the way Junji had looked at her—sharp, protective, but not without a glimmer of hope.
“She did say Ling deserves the truth,” Orm murmured.
Film nodded. “Exactly. And from what Namtan told me, it sounds like Junji’s starting to believe you. That’s a good sign.”
Orm let out a long breath, her fingers tapping against her knee. “Even if I do tell Ling everything... what if it’s too late? What if she’s already moved on?”
Film’s gaze softened. “Orm, that’s not something you can control. But if you don’t try, you’ll never know. And honestly, I don’t think Ling’s as far gone as you think she is.”
Orm looked up at her, her chest tightening. “You think so?”
Film smiled gently. “I know so. Ling might be stubborn, but she’s not heartless. If she’s still carrying this much hurt, it means she still cares—whether she admits it or not.”
The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Film’s words settling over Orm like a warm, steadying presence.
Finally, Orm sat up straighter, determination flickering in her eyes. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll talk to her. Somehow.”
Film grinned, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “That’s the spirit. Just don’t overthink it, N’Orm. Sometimes, the simplest approach is the best one.”
Orm gave a small nod, though her heart still pounded at the thought of facing Ling. But for the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a chance—a real chance—to set things right.
And this time, she wouldn’t let it slip through her fingers.