Chapter 6
Ling point of view
The morning light streamed through the curtains of her childhood bedroom, illuminating the soft floral patterns on the walls. Lingling sat at her small desk, a cup of tea steaming beside her, untouched. She had been staring at the same page of her notebook for an hour, her thoughts too tangled to focus.
The events of the past days replayed in her mind like a loop: the Dior event, Orm’s unfinished confession, Junji’s messages, and her mother’s gentle reminder the night before.
Ling flipped the notebook shut with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. Her phone buzzed softly on the desk, another notification she didn’t bother checking. She knew what it would be—more speculation, more drama about her and Orm.
Her hand absentmindedly grazed over an old photo frame on the desk. It held a picture of her and Orm from years ago, during the Only You tour. They were both smiling, carefree, their arms around each other like nothing could ever pull them apart.
Lingling swallowed hard, the memory stirring something deep in her chest. She had spent so long convincing herself she was angry at Orm, that she had moved on. But the truth was much more complicated.
She reached for her phone and scrolled through her messages, stopping at Junji’s name.
Junji:“Orm’s waiting, Ling. She’s ready to tell you everything. Are you ready to hear it?”
The words lingered in her mind, filling her with equal parts dread and curiosity.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her memory: “Sometimes, the truth changes everything. But maybe that’s what you need.”
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A soft knock at her door broke her reverie.
“Come in,” Lingling called, sitting up straighter.
Her mother stepped inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and some freshly cut fruit. She smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the desk. “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, N’Ling. I thought you might be hungry.”
The sound of clinking dishes drifted in from the kitchen as Lingling sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone resting in her lap. She could hear her mother humming softly to herself as she prepared lunch, the familiar tune comforting but distant.
Lingling stared at her phone, the faint glow of the screen illuminating Junji’s message.
“Orm’s waiting, Ling. She’s ready to tell you everything. Are you ready to hear it?”
The question lingered in her mind, heavy and unrelenting. She hadn’t responded to Junji yet—she didn’t know how to. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to stay wrapped in the safety of her parents’ house and avoid the inevitable. But another part of her—the part that had stayed awake thinking of Orm’s eyes at the Dior event—knew she couldn’t keep running forever.
A soft knock at her door broke her reverie.
“Come in,” Lingling called, sitting up straighter.
Her mother stepped inside, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and some freshly cut fruit. She smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the desk. “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, N’Ling. I thought you might be hungry.”
Lingling gave her a small smile. “Thanks, Mae.”
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, studying Lingling carefully. “You’ve been quiet all morning,” she said gently. “Is something on your mind?”
Lingling hesitated, glancing at her phone before looking back at her mother. “I got a message from P’Junji,” she admitted. “About Orm.”
Her mother tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “What about her?”
“She went to my apartment yesterday. She wanted to talk to me,” Lingling said, her voice quieter now. “P’Junji thinks she’s ready to tell me everything.”
Her mother’s eyes widened slightly before she nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”
Lingling looked down at her hands, twisting the hem of her shirt. “I don’t know. I want to know the truth, but... I’m scared, Mae. What if it doesn’t change anything? What if it just makes things worse?”
Her mother reached over, placing a comforting hand on Lingling’s knee. “The truth can be painful, N’Ling. But it’s also freeing. If Orm is ready to speak, maybe it’s time you listen.”
Lingling shook her head, her voice trembling. “But what if I can’t forgive her? What if it’s too late?”
Her mother gave her a small, reassuring smile. “Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, my child. It means choosing to let go of the pain, even if you still carry the memory.”
Lingling’s eyes shimmered with tears as she nodded. “I don’t even know if I’m ready to face her.”
Her mother squeezed her hand gently. “That’s okay. But when the time comes, trust your heart. It will know what to do.”
Lingling wiped at her eyes, taking a shaky breath. “Thanks, Mae.”
Her mother stood, brushing a strand of hair from Lingling’s face. “You’ve always been stronger than you think, N’Ling. Don’t forget that.”
As her mother left the room, Lingling glanced at her phone again. She stared at Junji’s message for a long moment before typing a reply.
Lingling:“I don’t know if I’m ready, P’Junji. But I’ll think about it.”
She hit send and leaned back against the headboard, letting out a long, slow breath.
Her mind was spinning, her emotions a tangled mess. But deep down, she knew her mother was right.
The truth wouldn’t wait forever.
Orm point of view
Orm paced the length of her living room, her mind racing. Namtan and Film’s words from the previous night echoed in her ears:
"Don’t let Popor, or your fear, take this away from you."
She stopped by the window, staring out at the bustling city below. She had spent so long letting guilt and shame dictate her choices, but she couldn’t let it continue. Not if she wanted to fix things with Lingling.
Orm grabbed her phone from the coffee table and typed a message to Namtan:
Orm:“I’m going to see her.”
The response came almost instantly.
Namtan:“You mean Ling? Or her parents’ house? Please tell me it’s not both.”
Orm smirked slightly, shaking her head.
Orm:“Ling. But she’s at her parents’, so... yeah.”
Namtan:“You’re braver than I thought. Just be honest with her, Orm. No more holding back.”
Orm set the phone down, exhaling deeply. She glanced at her jacket hanging on the back of a chair. Her heart pounded as she thought of Ling’s face, her voice, the way her eyes had burned with pain and betrayal at the Dior event.
She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. The drive to Lingling’s parents’ house was long, and Orm had no idea what she would say when she got there. But one thing was clear: She couldn’t let another day pass without telling Ling the truth, she owns her that.
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Orm stood by the car, her jacket slung over one shoulder. She had been pacing for the past ten minutes, debating whether or not to call her mother before heading to Lingling’s parents’ house, she didn’t want to worry her. Her phone felt heavy in her hand, the familiar contact name glowing on the screen: Mae.
Taking a deep breath, she tapped the call button and pressed the phone to her ear. It rang twice before her mother’s warm, familiar voice answered.
“N’Orm, calling me in the middle of the day? What a surprise,” Mae said, her tone laced with humor. “What’s going on?”
Orm hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the windowpane. “Mae, I’m... I’m going to see Ling.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end before Mae’s voice softened. “You’re going to her?”
Orm nodded, even though Mae couldn’t see her. “She’s at her parents’ house. I thought about waiting, but... I can’t anymore. I need to tell her everything.”
Mae’s voice was calm but firm. “And are you ready for that, N’Orm? Telling her everything means laying it all out—your mistakes, your fears, the truth about that night. Are you prepared for how she might react?”
Orm swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t know if I’m ready, Mae. But I don’t think I can wait anymore. She deserves the truth, no matter what happens.”
Mae sighed, the sound filled with both concern and pride. “You’re doing the right thing, N’Orm. It won’t be easy, but it’s the only way to move forward. Just remember, Ling’s been holding onto her pain just as long as you have. Be patient with her.”
“I will,” Orm promised, her voice quiet but steady. “I just... I needed to tell you. I don’t know why, but it felt important.”
Mae chuckled softly. “Because you always tell me when something big is about to happen. It’s part of who you are.”
A faint smile tugged at Orm’s lips. “Thanks, Mae. For everything.”
Her mother’s voice grew tender. “You don’t need to thank me, my child. Just go and speak from your heart. No matter what happens, you’ll have done your part.”
Orm nodded, her chest tightening. “I’ll call you after.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Mae said, her voice filled with quiet reassurance.
Orm ended the call and took a deep breath, sliding her phone into her pocket. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind as she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.
She didn’t know how Ling would react, but one thing was clear: it was time to face the past.
Ling point of view
The clinking of dishes slowly faded as the family moved to the living room after dinner. Lingling stayed behind at the table, pushing the last bits of rice around her plate absentmindedly. The weight in her chest had only grown heavier since the conversation about Orm during the meal.
Her younger brother, Phat, who had been glued to his phone throughout dinner, finally looked up and raised an eyebrow. He was taller than Lingling, with the same sharp eyes their mother often teased them about. He tucked his phone into his hoodie pocket and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.
“You’re seriously this quiet over Orm?” Phat asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and mild teasing.
Lingling shot him a look, a half-hearted glare that lacked the fire it usually carried. “It’s none of your business, N’Phat.”
Phat smirked, his playful tone not letting up. “It is if I have to sit through another dinner watching you stare at your plate like it’s going to solve all your problems.”
Lingling sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me,” Phat said, his voice softening just enough to let her know he wasn’t joking anymore.
Lingling hesitated, glancing toward the living room where their parents were watching TV. She lowered her voice. “I got a message from P’Junji. She said Orm went to my apartment yesterday. She wanted to talk to me.”
Phat’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a low whistle. “Wow. Big moves from Orm.”
“Don’t start,” Lingling muttered, rubbing her temples.
“Okay, okay.” Phat leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “But seriously, what are you gonna do? Are you gonna talk to her?”
Lingling shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
Phat snorted. “Isn’t it always? With you two, anyway.”
She glared at him again, though there was no real venom behind it. “You’re not helping.”
Phat shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I mean, I get it. You’ve got history. But if she’s coming to you now, doesn’t that mean something? Like, maybe she’s trying to fix things?”
Lingling’s chest tightened, and she looked away. “What if it’s too late?”
Phat was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by something softer. “It’s not too late until you decide it is, P’Ling. You can shut the door, or you can open it. But if she’s knocking, maybe at least find out what she wants.”
Lingling glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Since when did you get so wise?”
Phat grinned, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands again. “I’ve been listening to you complain about Orm for years. I figured I’d pick up a thing or two.”
She let out a small laugh despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“Yup,” Phat said, popping the “p” with a grin. “But I’m also right.”
Lingling sighed, her smile fading slightly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to face her, Phat. What if the truth just makes everything worse? Or I hurt her by my reaction? I don’t really know”
Phat reached over and flicked her forehead gently. “What if it doesn’t? You won’t know unless you stop hiding.”
Lingling rubbed her forehead, narrowing her eyes at him. “I hate you.”
Phat grinned wider. “Love you too, P’Ling.”
“I’m going to crash. Don’t overthink it, P’Ling. You’ve got this,” he said over his shoulder, disappearing into his room.
Lingling sighed, leaning back in her chair and letting her head tilt toward the ceiling. The room felt quieter now, her brother’s words lingering in the air.
“Orm, huh?” her father’s voice broke the silence, startling her. He knows her daughter loves that woman more than anything.
Lingling snapped her head toward the living room, her parents now fully turned toward her. Her father had his hands folded across his chest, a thoughtful look on his face. Her mother leaned slightly forward, her knitting needles resting idly on her lap.
“You heard that?” Lingling asked, her cheeks flushing slightly.
Her mother smiled knowingly. “It wasn’t hard to hear, N’Ling. And besides, we’ve been wondering when you’d finally talk about her.”
Her father nodded, his tone warm but curious. “So, what’s the story? Why is she coming back into your life now?”
Lingling hesitated, fidgeting with her fingers. “She went to my apartment yesterday. P’Junji said she wanted to talk to me. I think she wants to explain... everything.”
Her mother exchanged a glance with her father before speaking. “And how do you feel about that?”
Lingling shrugged, looking down at the table. “I don’t know, Mae. I want to know the truth, but I’m scared. What if it doesn’t change anything? What if it just makes things worse?”
Her father leaned forward slightly, his expression serious but kind. “Worse than what, N’Ling? Worse than spending all these years holding onto anger and pain?”
Lingling’s chest tightened, and she shook her head. “I just don’t want to be hurt again, Pa. What if... what if she’s just doing this because she feels guilty?”
Her mother reached out, placing a comforting hand on Lingling’s arm. “If it’s guilt driving her, then you’ll know. But if it’s love—and from what I’ve seen over the years, I think it is—you’ll know that too.”
Lingling looked up at her, her voice trembling. “You really think it’s love, Mae?”
Her mother’s smile was gentle, her eyes filled with understanding. “Love doesn’t just disappear, my child. It might get buried under misunderstandings and mistakes, but it’s still there. If Orm is trying this hard to reach you after all this time, I think that means something.”
Her father nodded, his voice steady. “We’re not saying you have to forgive her, N’Ling. But don’t let fear keep you from finding out the truth. Whatever it is, you’re strong enough to face it.”
Lingling’s throat tightened, and she blinked rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “What if it hurts, Pa?”
Her father’s expression softened, and he reached over to cover her hand with his. “Then you’ll heal. You’re not alone, N’Ling. We’re here for you, no matter what happens.”
Lingling nodded, her chest aching with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “Thanks, Pa. Mae.”
Her mother patted her hand gently. “Take your time, my child. But don’t let this chance slip away. You’ve been waiting for answers for years—it’s time you find them.”
As her parents turned back to the television, Lingling sat in silence, her emotions swirling. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change—something big.
Orm point of view
The hum of the engine filled the car as Orm drove through the fading light of the evening. The familiar streets of Bangkok gave way to quieter neighborhoods, the bustle of the city slowly melting into a calm she didn’t feel. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles pale against the dark leather.
She hadn’t been to Lingling’s parents’ house in years. The last time was before the Only You tour, during those golden days when everything between them felt effortless. She remembered the laughter, the way Lingling’s mother had doted on her, and the easy camaraderie with Ling’s father. It was a simpler time, a time before everything fell apart.
Orm exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Focus,” she muttered to herself.
The truth she carried felt heavier with each mile. She replayed her conversation with Junji in her mind, her words from Film and Namtan, and most of all, the lingering look in Lingling’s eyes at the Dior event. That look—filled with pain and something else Orm couldn’t quite place—had haunted her ever since.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced down briefly:
Namtan:“You got this, N’Orm. Remember: honesty. No more holding back.”
Orm smiled faintly, her grip on the wheel loosening just a bit. She typed back quickly at a red light:
Orm:“Thanks. I’ll update you after.”
As she continued driving, the streets became more familiar, and her pulse quickened. Her mind raced with questions: What if Lingling isn’t home? What if she won’t listen? What if I mess this up all over again?
Orm took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “No,” she said firmly. “I can’t think like that. She deserves the truth. No matter what happens, I have to tell her.”
The small house came into view, tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street. Its warm, glowing windows stood in stark contrast to the cool evening air. Orm gripped the steering wheel tightly, her heart racing as she slowed to a stop in the driveway. She could just make out a faint silhouette moving inside, a reminder of the familiarity she had once felt here, years ago.
She cut the engine, the car falling silent as she sat there, staring at the house. Her pulse thundered in her ears, and her thoughts raced.
What am I doing? Will she even want to hear me out?
Before she could spiral further, the front door creaked open, and Orm’s breath caught. She watched as Ling’s father stepped out, holding the leash of their family dog, Bobo. The small, fluffy creature wagged his tail eagerly, his energy a stark contrast to the tension weighing Orm down.
Ling’s father glanced at the car, his brows furrowing slightly as he seemed to recognize her. He adjusted his glasses and walked closer, his face shifting from curiosity to guarded warmth.
“N’Orm,” he said, his voice steady but cautious. “It’s been a long time.”
Orm stepped out of the car, her palms damp as she wiped them on her jacket. She bowed her head respectfully, her voice trembling slightly. “Sawatdee ka, Pa. I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
He studied her for a moment, his gaze thoughtful but not unkind. “I suppose you’re here to see Ling?”
Orm swallowed hard, her voice trembling slightly. “Yes, Pa. I need to talk to her. To make things right.” She hesitated, her chest tightening as she added, “I love her so much, and I know I’ve made mistakes. But she deserves the truth, and I can’t let her keep hurting because of me.”
Ling’s father’s expression softened at her words, the tension in his posture easing slightly. He sighed deeply, glancing back toward the house as if considering her sincerity. When he looked back at Orm, his eyes were steady, filled with the quiet wisdom of a father who had watched his daughter endure her share of pain.
“N’Orm,” he began, his tone calm but firm, “all I’ve ever wanted is for my daughter to be happy. If you’re here to bring her peace, to tell her the truth and make things right, then I won’t stand in your way. But if you’re here with doubts or hesitations, it’s better not to open this wound further.”
Orm’s chest tightened, and she met his gaze with unwavering determination. “I understand, Pa. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready. I know I hurt her, but I want to try to fix it—if she’ll let me.”
He nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Then go ahead. She’s inside with Mae.”
Before Orm could move, the front door creaked open behind him. Her breath caught as Lingling stepped out, her face lit softly by the glow of the porch light. She was wearing a simple sweater and jeans, her hair tied back loosely. She hadn’t noticed Orm yet; her focus was on her father and the leash in his hand.
“Pa, I’ll come with you. Bobo likes when we walk together,” Ling said casually, her voice light.
Orm froze in place, her heart hammering in her chest.
Ling’s gaze finally shifted, and when her eyes landed on Orm, she stopped mid-step. Her expression shifted rapidly from surprise to confusion, and then something guarded flickered in her eyes.
“Orm?” Lingling’s voice was barely above a whisper, her grip on the leash tightening instinctively.
Orm felt her throat go dry, but she forced herself to speak. “Hi, Ling. I... I needed to see you.”
Lingling’s father glanced between them, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said quietly, stepping aside with Bobo. The small dog wagged his tail excitedly, oblivious to the tension in the air.
As her father disappeared down the pathway with Bobo, the silence between Orm and Ling felt thick and unyielding. Lingling crossed her arms over her chest, her posture defensive.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone sharper now, though her voice wavered slightly.
Orm took a step forward, her hands trembling at her sides. “I needed to talk to you, Ling. Can you please give me a few minutes? I know I - ”
Lingling’s jaw tightened, and she let out a shaky breath, glancing back toward the house. “Here? Now?”
Orm nodded, her voice low but steady. “I know it’s late, and I know this isn’t easy, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I’ve waited too long already. Please”
Lingling hesitated, her eyes scanning Orm’s face as if searching for something. Finally, she sighed, stepping aside and gesturing toward the house.
“Fine,” she said, her tone clipped. “Let’s talk inside.”
Orm nodded gratefully, following Lingling into the house. Her heart pounded as they stepped into the familiar warmth of the home, the scent of jasmine tea lingering faintly in the air. Lingling led her into the living room, where the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the space.
Orm stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of the space wrapping around her like a bittersweet memory. Lingling’s father had gone to the backyard with Bobo, leaving Orm with Mae and Phat in the living room. Both of them sat on the couch, their expressions caught somewhere between curiosity and surprise.
“N’Orm,” Mae said, her tone warm but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you here.”
Orm bowed her head respectfully. “Sawatdee ka, Mae. I’m sorry for arriving unannounced.”
Phat, lounging casually with one arm draped over the back of the couch, smirked. “Unannounced is an understatement. I didn’t think I’d ever see you here again.”
“Phat,” Mae said sharply, though there was no real reprimand in her voice.
Orm smiled faintly, though her nerves made it difficult. “I understand why it’s surprising. I wasn’t sure I’d have the courage to come myself.”
Mae studied her for a long moment before her expression softened. “We’ll give you two some privacy.”
Phat stood, stretching dramatically before giving Orm a pointed look. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Phat!” Mae scolded, though she too was smiling faintly. She turned to Orm as she stood. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”
As Mae and Phat left, Orm’s gaze shifted to Lingling, who had been watching the exchange silently from near the doorway. Her arms were crossed, her posture defensive.
“Come on,” Lingling said, her voice curt. “Let’s talk in my room.”
Orm followed her down the hallway, her heartbeat quickening with every step. The last time she had been in Lingling’s room felt like a lifetime ago, back when their connection had been effortless and unspoken barriers hadn’t yet formed between them.
Lingling opened the door and stepped inside first, her movements stiff and deliberate. The room was exactly as Orm remembered—tidy, soft hues decorating the space, and small personal touches that spoke to Ling’s sense of order and individuality. But the warmth she’d once felt in this room was gone, replaced by a suffocating tension.
Orm hesitated at the threshold, her heart pounding as she watched Ling sit on the edge of her bed. Ling’s back was straight, her arms folded across her chest, her gaze as sharp as a blade.
Ling point of view
“Close the door,” Lingling said without looking at her.
Orm obeyed, shutting the door quietly before turning to face Ling. Her hands trembled slightly as she took in the sight of the woman she loved, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her like a storm.
Lingling’s eyes finally met Orm’s, narrowing slightly. “Why are you here, Orm? After everything, why now?”
Orm swallowed hard, summoning the courage she’d built up during the drive. “Because I can’t keep running, Ling. I came to tell you the truth. About... about everything.”
Lingling’s jaw tightened, her arms crossing tighter over her chest. “The last time we saw each other, you barely said anything. You just let everything fall apart again.”
“Huh, no,” Orm shot back, a spark of frustration in her voice. “The last time was last week at the Dior event, and your alleged girlfriend Sonya interrupted me before I could say anything.”
The words came out sharper than she intended, and the regret was immediate. She saw the flicker of hurt in Ling’s eyes, her face hardening in response. Orm cursed herself silently, knowing she’d started this conversation on the wrong foot.
“I’m sorry,” Orm said quickly, her voice softening. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not here to talk about Sonya.”
Lingling tilted her head slightly, her tone cutting through the air like ice. “Do you believe that me and Sonya are together, N’Orm?”
Orm hesitated, leaning back against the closed door. Her voice wavered. “I don’t want to believe anything, P’Ling. That’s not why I’m here. But I need to hear it from you. Are you in a relationship with her?”
Lingling’s expression didn’t falter as she answered simply, “I’m not.”
Relief surged through Orm, but she didn’t let it show. Ling’s gaze pinned her in place, her next words carrying the weight of years of pain.
“But fix things, huh? How do you intend to do that, Orm? After more than two years of lies and silence?” Lingling’s tone was bitter, her eyes flashing with emotion.
Orm stepped forward cautiously, her voice soft but firm. “I’ll start with the truth. About Popor. About that night. And please believe me, P’Ling, when I say if I could have told you sooner, I would have. It broke me, Ling, and I didn’t know how to face you.”
Lingling’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She took a deep breath, her fists clenching as though bracing herself for a truth she had always dreaded but longed to hear.
“I’m listening,” Ling said quietly, her eyes locking onto Orm’s with an intensity that made Orm’s chest ache.
Orm nodded, taking another step closer. “About Popor...”
At the name, Ling flinched slightly, her jaw tightening as her gaze darkened.
“What about her?” Ling’s voice was sharp now, her bitterness barely concealed. “What could you possibly say that changes what’s been said and done?”
Orm inhaled deeply, steadying herself. “Ling, I never slept with her. What you think happened that night... it’s not true.”
Lingling stared at her, the disbelief evident in her eyes. “Then what did happen?”
Orm hesitated, the weight of her confession pressing down on her like a tidal wave. “She tried to take advantage of me,” Orm admitted, her voice breaking. “I was too drunk to realize it at first, but Kate, Nene, and Smith stopped her. They pulled her away before anything could happen.”
Lingling’s entire body went rigid. Her breathing quickened, her fists trembling at her sides. “She what?”
“She tried to force herself on me,” Orm repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t remember everything, but I know I wasn’t wearing my shirt when they found me. Ling, I swear to you, nothing happened. I couldn’t...” Orm’s voice cracked, her tears threatening to spill. “I could never give my first time to anyone but you.”
Lingling shot to her feet, her chest heaving as a surge of anger and betrayal washed over her. “She tried to hurt you, and you didn’t think to tell me? You let me think for years that you... that you chose her over me?”
“I was ashamed, Ling,” Orm said desperately. “I didn’t know how to face you. I thought you’d hate me for putting myself in that situation. That you wouldn’t want me anymore after all this”
Lingling’s hands clenched into fists, her voice trembling with rage. “You think I care about that? Orm, she tried to take advantage of you! She’s the one who deserves to be ashamed—not you! Yes I was angry because I’ve been worried all night for you and without mentioning that you confessed to me that you kissed her, just before leaving for Australia and not coming back for weeks”
“I know,” Orm whispered, tears streaming down her face. “And I’m sorry, Ling. For everything. For letting you believe a lie, for not telling you sooner. I’m so, so sorry. I hate myself for not trusting you with this”
Lingling turned away, pacing the room as her emotions threatened to consume her. Her hands shook as she tried to process what she’d just heard.
“I want to kill her,” Ling spat, her voice low but venomous. “She had no right—no right to do that to you. And she had the audacity to lie about it? To make you carry this?”
Orm took a hesitant step closer. “Ling, I know you’re angry—”
“Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it, Orm,” Lingling snapped, spinning around to face her. “She tried to ruin you, and she ruined us. How do I even begin to forgive you for keeping this from me? You broke my heart Orm”
Orm’s chest tightened, but she met Lingling’s fiery gaze head-on. “I know. And I am so sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, Ling. Not now, not ever. But I needed you to know the truth, even if it’s too late to fix things.”
The room fell into silence, the weight of Orm’s confession and Lingling’s rage hanging heavy in the air. For the first time in years, everything was out in the open—and neither of them knew where to go from here.
Lingling paced the room, her hands shaking as she ran them through her hair. Her chest felt tight, the weight of everything Orm had just said pressing down on her like a storm she couldn’t escape.
“You’ve been carrying this all by yourself,” Lingling said, her voice rising with every word. “You let Popor try to ruin you, and you let me believe it was true! For years, Orm!”
Orm stood frozen near the bed, her hands half-raised in a gesture of helplessness. “Ling, I—”
“No!” Lingling interrupted, spinning around to face her. Her eyes burned with frustration, anger, and something deeper. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me! You let her lie, you let me think the worst, and all this time you’ve been... what? Suffering alone? Pretending it didn’t happen?”
“I wasn’t pretending,” Orm said softly, her voice trembling. “I was scared, Ling. I didn’t know how to—”
Lingling cut her off again, her voice cracking. “You didn’t know how to trust me, Orm! You didn’t think I could handle the truth? Or what—you didn’t think I’d care?”
Orm flinched, her chest tightening. “That’s not it. I knew you’d care, Ling. I knew it would hurt you—”
“Of course it hurts me!” Lingling exploded, her voice breaking. “It hurts because I love you, Orm!”
The words hung in the air, sharp and unplanned.
Lingling froze in place, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Orm could hear it. She hadn’t meant to say it—not like this, not now, and certainly not with all the unresolved tension still between them.
“What... what did you just say?” Orm asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of everything unsaid between them.
Lingling’s breath hitched. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Orm’s gaze, her mind racing for an escape. “I didn’t—” she started, her voice faltering. “I mean—”
Orm took a cautious step closer, her voice trembling but steady. “Ling, please. Just say it again.”
Before Lingling could respond, a knock at the door shattered the moment, the sound making both women jump.
“N’Ling?” Mae’s gentle voice came through the door, laced with curiosity and concern. “Are you two alright in there? Tea will be ready soon if you want some.”
Lingling cleared her throat, trying to steady her shaky voice. “We’re fine, Mae. Thank you.”
Mae paused, as if sensing the tension, then added lightly, “Take your time, girls. The tea will stay warm.” The sound of her footsteps retreating down the hall left the room heavy with silence once again.
Orm turned her focus back to Lingling, her chest tight with anticipation. “You said you love me,” Orm said softly, her words more of a confirmation than a question.
Lingling’s stomach twisted, her pulse racing as she turned toward the window, avoiding Orm’s gaze. “I didn’t mean— It just slipped out,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.
“It slipped out because it’s the truth,” Orm said, her voice steadier now, laced with a vulnerability that made Lingling’s heart ache.
Lingling shook her head, her hands gripping the windowsill as though it could anchor her. “Don’t do this, Orm. Don’t push me.”
Orm’s breath hitched, and for the first time, she stepped closer, her presence filling the space between them. “I’m not pushing you, Ling. But I need you to know... I love you too.”
The words hung in the air like a fragile melody, raw and unfiltered. Lingling’s grip on the windowsill tightened, her heart pounding as the weight of Orm’s confession settled over her.
“I’ve always loved you,” Orm continued, her voice trembling with emotion. “Even when I was too afraid to tell you, even when I messed everything up. I’ve never stopped, Ling. Not for a single second.”
Lingling’s head dipped, her tears threatening to spill as her heart warred with her mind. She wanted to turn around, to look at Orm, to let herself believe those words—but the pain of the past held her back.
“Ling,” Orm said softly, taking another step closer. She hesitated, her voice breaking. “Please... say something.”
Lingling inhaled sharply, her emotions spiraling. She turned slowly, finally meeting Orm’s gaze, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You broke me, Orm,” she whispered. “You left me to believe you didn’t care. You let me live with that pain for years.”
“I know,” Orm said, her voice breaking with guilt. “I was a coward, Ling. I let my shame and fear control me, and I hurt you because of it. But I’m here now, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I am in love you Lingling Kwong” she finishes with a little voice.
Lingling’s tears finally spilled over, her emotions too raw to contain. She wanted to believe Orm, to let herself fall back into the love she’d never really let go of. But the scars of the past weren’t so easily healed.
Before she could respond, Mae’s voice called from down the hall, light and cheerful. “Tea’s ready, girls. Come down now!”
Lingling took a deep, trembling breath, using the interruption to gather herself. She wiped at her tears quickly, her voice soft but steady. “We should go. You know Mae’s waiting with tea.”
Orm hesitated to chuckle but nodded, understanding that Lingling just tried to ease the tension. “Okay,” she said quietly.
As they walked toward the door, Lingling’s mind raced. Orm’s confession lingered in the air between them, fragile yet undeniable. And despite her lingering doubts, a part of her heart couldn’t help but believe.
Lingling and Orm walked silently into the living room, the weight of their earlier conversation lingering heavily in the air. Mae sat at the dining table, the soft clinking of teacups against their saucers a comforting contrast to the tension Lingling felt in her chest.
“Ah, there you are,” Mae said warmly as they entered. She gestured to the two chairs across from her. “Come, sit. Tea’s ready.”
Orm hesitated, glancing at Lingling for a moment before nodding and taking a seat. Lingling followed, sitting beside her, their proximity a stark reminder of how close yet distant they still felt.
Mae poured the tea gracefully, her movements calm and practiced. She placed a cup in front of each of them, her gaze lingering on Orm. “It’s good to see you here again, N’Orm. Though I admit, I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Orm bowed her head slightly, her voice quiet but sincere. “Thank you for having me, Mae. I didn’t mean to impose.”
Mae smiled gently. “You’re not imposing. You’re always welcome here, but it’s late. Driving back now would be dangerous, wouldn’t it?”
Orm straightened slightly, her hands wrapping around the warm cup. “I’ll be okay, Mae. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
“Nonsense,” Mae replied firmly, though her tone remained kind. “It’s too far, and it’s not safe. You should stay here tonight.”
Lingling glanced at Orm, who looked ready to protest. Before Orm could speak, Lingling added softly, “She’s right. The drive is too long, especially twice in one day.”
Orm hesitated, her gaze flickering between Lingling and Mae. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“You won’t,” Mae said with finality. “It’s settled. You’ll leave in the morning when it’s safer.”
Orm let out a small sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Thank you, Mae. I appreciate it.”
Mae smiled warmly and sipped her tea. “Good. Now, drink your tea and relax. There’s no rush tonight.”
The three women sat in companionable silence for a moment, the warmth of the tea and the quiet hum of the house providing a brief reprieve from the earlier tension.
Lingling’s gaze shifted to Orm, her chest tightening as she watched the way Orm’s fingers trembled slightly against the teacup. She looked so vulnerable, so different from the confident Orm she remembered.
“You’ll sleep in the guest room,” Mae said, breaking the silence. “I’ll make sure it’s ready before you go up.”
Orm smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Thank you, Mae.”
Lingling looked at her mother, her heart aching with gratitude for how effortlessly Mae created a safe space for Orm. Despite everything, her mother’s kindness never wavered.
When the tea was finished, Mae stood, placing a comforting hand on Orm’s shoulder as she passed. “Rest tonight, N’Orm. Things always look clearer in the morning.”
Orm nodded, her chest tight with unspoken gratitude. “Thank you.”
As Mae left to prepare the guest room, Lingling and Orm were left alone at the table. The silence between them was heavy, but not as suffocating as before.
“Thank you for letting me stay,” Orm said quietly, breaking the silence.
Lingling’s gaze softened, her voice gentle. “Mae’s right. It’s safer this way.”
Orm nodded, her eyes meeting Lingling’s briefly before dropping to her hands. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”
Lingling hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take your time.”
Orm’s eyes flickered up to meet hers again, something unspoken passing between them. For the first time in years, there was a glimmer of hope.
Lingling walked ahead of Orm, leading her through the quiet hallway to the guest room. The soft glow of the nightlight reflected off the wooden floors, and the faint creak of the boards beneath their feet seemed to echo louder than usual in the stillness of the house.
Stopping in front of the guest room door, Lingling turned the handle and pushed it open. The room was small but cozy, with a neatly made bed and a single lamp casting a warm glow over the space.
“This is it,” Lingling said softly, stepping aside to let Orm in.
Orm entered hesitantly, her hands fidgeting at her sides as she took in the space. “Thank you, Ling,” she said quietly. “And... thank Mae for me, too.”
Lingling nodded but didn’t leave immediately. She lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed loosely as her eyes scanned Orm. The woman looked as if she was still processing everything, her movements hesitant, her gaze darting nervously around the room.
“You didn’t bring anything with you, did you?” Lingling asked, her tone softer than usual.
Orm shook her head, looking down. “No. This wasn’t exactly planned.”
Lingling sighed, rubbing her temple. “Wait here,” she said before disappearing into her room across the hall.
When she returned moments later, she held out a folded top and a pair of loose shorts. Orm froze when she recognized the faded fabric of the top—it was one she used to wear during their late-night sleepovers years ago.
“This,” Lingling said, her voice quieter now, “was in my drawer. You left it here ages ago, and I just... never got rid of it.” She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking away. “It’s probably more comfortable for you than anything else I could give you.”
Orm stared at the top for a moment, her chest tightening as memories of those carefree nights rushed back. She reached out to take it, her fingers brushing Lingling’s briefly. The small touch made Lingling’s heart skip a beat, and she quickly stepped back, feigning indifference.
“Thank you,” Orm said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lingling waved a hand dismissively, refusing to meet her gaze. “It’s no big deal. Just... get some rest, Orm. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Orm nodded, her fingers curling around the fabric. “Goodnight, Ling.”
Lingling lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, her gaze flickering to Orm before she finally stepped back into the hallway. “Goodnight.”
She closed the door gently behind her, leaning against it as she let out a slow, shaky breath. Her emotions swirled in a chaotic mix—nostalgia, pain, anger, and something softer, something she wasn’t ready to name.
Across the hall, her own room beckoned her, but the knowledge that Orm was just a few steps away filled her with a strange mix of comfort and unease.