I love you
Orm point of view
The room was dark and quiet, but Orm couldn’t sleep. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as memories from years ago swirled in her mind. Her hand rested on the soft fabric of the shirt Ling had given her—a relic from a time when things between them were so much simpler.
She closed her eyes, but the weight of Ling’s words from earlier wouldn’t let her rest.
"You broke my heart, Orm."
The ache in her chest felt unbearable. Orm had spent years carrying her guilt, but hearing those words spoken aloud—seeing the pain still so raw in Ling’s eyes—was something else entirely.
She gripped the shirt tighter, the faint scent of lavender still clinging to it. It smelled like home, like Ling. Her mind drifted to their late-night sleepovers, the way Ling used to tease her about stealing her clothes but never actually minded.
“I’ve always loved you,” she whispered to herself, the admission breaking through the silence of the room. It was the truth she’d hidden for so long, and now it felt like the only thing holding her together.
But Ling hadn’t said it back. Orm had heard her confession earlier, the words spilling out in the heat of an argument, but Ling hadn’t repeated them. What if it was just anger talking? What if it didn’t mean anything?
Orm turned onto her side, her heart heavy, she needed to sleep.
Ling point of view
In her room across the hall, Lingling sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the moonlight spilling through the window. Her mind was a chaotic mess of emotions, each one louder than the last.
Popor. The lies. The betrayal.
Orm’s confession echoed in her head, the weight of it making her chest tighten. Ling clenched her fists, anger bubbling to the surface again.
She let me think for years that she chose someone else. She let me carry that pain while she stayed silent.
But beneath the anger was something deeper, something harder to ignore: relief. Relief that Orm hadn’t given herself to Popor. Relief that the truth, painful as it was, had finally come out.
And then there was that other thing—the thing Ling was too afraid to name.
Her hand touched her lips instinctively, her mind replaying her own words from earlier. “Because I love you, Orm.”
The admission had slipped out before she could stop it, and she hated how vulnerable it made her feel. Orm had looked at her like the world stopped turning, and for a moment, Ling wanted to let herself believe it. But she wasn’t ready—not yet.
Lingling let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding as the anger mixed with the overwhelming love she still felt for Orm. She buried her face in her hands, whispering into the quiet, “Why does it still hurt so much?”
_______________________________
The soft light of dawn streamed through the kitchen windows as Lingling moved quietly around the room. The air was still cool, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden outside. She was already dressed in comfortable clothes, her hair pulled into a loose bun, as she set a pot of rice on the stove to cook.
Mae sat at the dining table, sipping her morning tea and watching her daughter with calm curiosity. She hadn’t pressed Ling about the events of the previous night, but the questions were clear in her eyes.
“You’re up early,” Mae said gently, setting her cup down.
Ling shrugged, not meeting her mother’s gaze as she reached for the eggs. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Mae hummed softly, her tone thoughtful. “I noticed. I heard you moving around in your room.”
Lingling cracked the eggs into a bowl, whisking them absently. Her mind was far from breakfast, replaying everything Orm had said last night.
“I don’t know how to feel, Mae,” she finally admitted, her voice low. “She told me the truth, and... it’s not what I thought. It’s worse and I don’t know what to do.”
Mae tilted her head, concerned etching lines into her face. “Worse? How so, N’Ling?”
Lingling set the whisk down, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “Popor didn’t just lie. She tried to take advantage of Orm that night. She...” Lingling trailed off, her voice trembling with anger. “She hurt her, Mae. And Orm didn’t tell me. She let me think for years that she’d chosen Popor.”
Mae’s brow furrowed, her hands clasping tightly around her teacup. “That poor child,” she murmured, her heart aching for both Orm and Lingling. “And you’re angry at her for not telling you sooner?”
Ling nodded, her jaw tightening. “I am. But I’m even angrier at Popor. She made Orm carry this—she let her suffer alone, Mae.” Ling’s fists clenched at her sides, her voice shaking with emotion. “I want to call her. I want to confront her. I want to—”
Mae rose from her seat, walking over to place a comforting hand on Lingling’s arm. “Breathe, N’Ling. Anger is natural, but don’t let it consume you. Focus on what matters—Orm is here now. What will you do about that?”
Lingling’s shoulders sagged slightly, her anger giving way to the weight of her conflicted feelings. “I don’t know. She said she loves me, Mae. And I...” She hesitated, her voice dropping. “I said it first to be honest but I didn’t want to tell her. Not yet, but -”
Mae’s expression softened, her hand rubbing small, soothing circles on Ling’s arm. “And do you mean it, N’Ling?”
Lingling nodded slowly, tears welling in her eyes. “I do. I always have. But how do I trust her again, Mae? How do I move past everything? What she confessed yesterday about the night broke me even more Mae”
Mae smiled gently, her voice filled with quiet wisdom. “Love isn’t always easy, my dear. It takes patience and forgiveness. But if you still love her, and she’s willing to fight for you, maybe it’s worth trying.”
Lingling bit her lip, her thoughts swirling. “She’s been through so much, Mae. She was so... broken last night. And I don’t know if I can forgive her for keeping me in the dark, but... I don’t want to lose her again either Mae.”
Mae squeezed her arm gently, her voice steady. “Take your time, Ling. Let her show you she’s changed. And don’t let fear make your decisions for you. I know she broke your heart baby, I saw how broken you went to Italy and I still couldn’t understand at the time why you ran like that but now we need to face it. ”
The sound of soft footsteps on the stairs drew both their attention. Lingling’s heart skipped a beat as Orm appeared in the doorway, wearing the shirt she’d left behind years ago and looking hesitant but determined.
“Good morning,” Orm said softly, her voice tinged with nervousness.
Mae smiled warmly, stepping back to give the two women space. “Good morning, N’Orm. Breakfast is almost ready. Come, sit.”
Orm glanced at Lingling, her expression uncertain. Lingling’s eyes softened, the anger from earlier still present but tempered by something deeper.
“Good morning, Orm,” Lingling said quietly, her voice steady. “I’ll get you some tea.”
As Orm moved to sit at the table, Lingling turned back to the counter, her mind racing. Mae’s words echoed in her heart: Take your time. Let her show you.
Orm point of view
Orm sat stiffly at the dining table, the scent of freshly brewed tea mingling with the faint aroma of jasmine that seemed to linger in the house. She clasped her hands tightly around the warm teacup Mae had set in front of her, the heat grounding her even as her thoughts swirled chaotically.
She hadn’t slept a wink. All night, her mind had been consumed with everything that had happened—the truth she’d finally confessed to Ling, the hurt in Ling’s eyes, and that fleeting, fragile moment when Ling had accidentally admitted her love.
She said it, Orm thought for the hundredth time, her chest tightening. She loves me. But does she still mean it?
Across the table, Ling moved gracefully, setting a plate of fruit and toast in front of her. Orm’s eyes lingered on her longer than she intended, drinking in every detail—the way Ling’s loose bun framed her face, the slight furrow in her brow, the subtle tension in her shoulders.
Lingling didn’t meet her gaze as she poured tea into Orm’s cup. “Here,” she said quietly, her voice steady but distant.
“Thank you,” Orm replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mae bustled around the kitchen, humming a gentle tune as she prepared her own breakfast. Orm was grateful for her presence, which added a sense of normalcy to the otherwise heavy air in the room.
But even with Mae’s comforting presence, Orm couldn’t shake the unease that coiled tightly in her chest. She sat stiffly, her hands resting on her lap as her gaze drifted repeatedly to Ling. Lingling moved with quiet precision, her fingers deftly slicing fruit and arranging it on her plate as if she were determined to focus solely on the task at hand.
Orm’s heart ached with every glance. She wanted to reach across the table, to brush her fingers against Ling’s, to erase the distance between them that felt like a chasm. The desire to take Ling in her arms, to hold her close and promise that she’d never hurt her again, burned fiercely within her. And, if she were honest with herself, the urge to kiss Ling—right here, in this warm, quiet kitchen—was almost overwhelming.
But she held back, her resolve tempered by the fragile state of their relationship. This time, she wouldn’t let fear or hesitation ruin everything. She had made a promise to herself: she wouldn’t back down. She’d fight for Ling’s trust, her forgiveness, and—if Ling would let her—her love.
Film would kill me if I didn’t, Orm thought with a faint, fleeting smile. Her best friend’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind: “You’ve come this far, Orm. Don’t screw it up now.”
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft vibration of her phone against the wooden table. The screen lit up, revealing a familiar photo of Film grinning cheekily, her name displayed in bold.
The sudden sound broke the quiet of the room, and Orm reached instinctively for the phone, her fingers fumbling slightly. Before she could grab it, she noticed Lingling’s eyes flick to the screen, curiosity—and perhaps a hint of something else—flashing across her face.
Orm reached for her phone, silencing Film’s call with a swipe of her thumb. But when she looked up, Lingling’s gaze was on her—curious, sharp, and unmistakably questioning.
“You and Film are close?” Ling asked, her tone neutral, though Orm could detect the faintest hint of surprise.
Orm hesitated, running her thumb along the edge of her phone. “We’ve become close,” she admitted softly. “After... everything.” She glanced up at Lingling, gauging her reaction.
Lingling raised an eyebrow, setting her fork down. “After everything?” she repeated, her voice tinged with curiosity and something Orm couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t even know you two talked, let alone were close enough for her to call and check on you.”
Orm offered a small, tentative smile. “They—Film and Namtan—they were there for me when I needed someone. I don’t know what would’ve happened without them.”
Lingling leaned back slightly, her arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Them? As in Namtan, too?”
Orm nodded, her voice softening. “Yes. After that night with Popor... they were the ones who pulled her away and made sure I was safe. They were the first to understand what happened, even when I didn’t fully remember.”
Lingling’s expression hardened at the mention of Popor, her fingers curling slightly into her sleeves. “They tried to protect you,” she murmured, her voice tight.
“They did,” Orm said, her chest tightening. “They didn’t have to, but they did. And they didn’t stop there, P’Ling. They stood by me when I didn’t know how to move forward. They were the only ones who didn’t let me drown in my own shame.”
Lingling’s eyes flickered with something Orm couldn’t quite place—anger, perhaps, or guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me about them? About any of this?”
Orm swallowed hard, her hands tightening around her teacup. “Because I thought you hated me,” she admitted. “I thought telling you would only make things worse. And I was... I was too scared to face you, Ling. Too scared to see what you’d think of me.”
Lingling didn’t respond right away. She sat still, her gaze fixed on Orm as though trying to decipher every word, every emotion behind them. Finally, she let out a slow breath, her tone quieter now.
“They were there for you,” she said softly. “When I wasn’t.”
Orm shook her head quickly. “No, Ling, don’t—” She stopped herself, taking a breath to steady her voice. “You didn’t know. I didn’t let you know. That’s on me, not you.”
The room fell quiet, the sound of Mae bustling in the kitchen faintly reaching them. Orm felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her but pushed through, determined to be honest.
The quiet tension between Lingling and Orm was broken by the soft clink of a plate being set on the counter. Mae stepped into the room, her warm but knowing gaze shifting between the two women. She wiped her hands on a towel and spoke gently, her voice cutting through the silence.
“N’Orm,” Mae said with a kind but firm tone, “you should freshen up. You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
Orm blinked, startled by the sudden shift in focus. She glanced down at herself, suddenly aware of how wrinkled and disheveled she looked in Ling’s old shirt and the exhaustion etched into her features.
“I—uh—yes, Mae,” Orm stammered, standing up awkwardly. “I’ll take a quick shower. Then I’ll head out after.”
Mae’s brows lifted slightly, her hands resting on her hips. “Nonsense. You can’t leave right away. You’ve barely had breakfast, and it’s a long drive back.”
Orm hesitated, glancing toward Lingling, who had turned her gaze to the table, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her teacup.
“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Orm said softly, her words directed more at Ling than Mae.
Mae waved a dismissive hand, her warm smile softening the edges of her stern tone. “You’re not overstaying anything. You’ve barely started your day, and I’d rather you leave when you’re refreshed and ready.”
Lingling finally looked up, her expression unreadable. “Mae’s right,” she said, her voice steady but distant. “You shouldn’t rush. Take your time.”
Orm’s chest tightened at the words, but she nodded. “Alright. Thank you, Mae. I’ll be quick.”
Mae smiled approvingly, gesturing toward the hallway. “Good. There are fresh towels in the bathroom. Take your time, N’Orm.”
Orm turned to leave, her steps hesitant as she moved toward the bathroom. As she disappeared down the hall, Mae turned her attention back to Lingling, her expression softening further.
Ling point of view
As Mae moved back toward the kitchen, Lingling pushed herself up from the table, her movements slow and deliberate. She could still feel the tension of the morning clinging to her, the weight of Orm’s presence lingering even as she tried to focus on her next steps.
Lingling headed upstairs, her hand trailing lightly along the polished wooden banister as she climbed. The quiet of the house was soothing, but it also amplified the swirling thoughts in her mind.
She stepped into her room, closing the door softly behind her. The familiar space greeted her with its muted tones and carefully arranged decor, but today, it felt different—heavier. Lingling crossed the room to her wardrobe, pulling the doors open with a sigh.
As she sifted through her clothes, her mind replayed the conversation downstairs. Orm’s voice—hesitant, vulnerable—echoed in her ears.
“You didn’t know. I didn’t let you know. That’s on me, not you.”
Lingling’s hands stilled as she pulled out a neatly folded blouse. Her chest tightened, a mix of anger, sadness, and something softer swirling inside her. She wanted to stay angry, to hold on to the bitterness that had shielded her for so long. But Orm’s words, her expression, her very presence—it all chipped away at Lingling’s defenses.
She thought I hated her, Lingling thought, her fingers tightening around the fabric in her hands. She thought I wouldn’t care. How could she believe that?
Setting the blouse on her bed, Lingling moved to the dresser to retrieve a pair of trousers. She caught her reflection in the mirror above it, her brows furrowing as she studied her own face.
There was no denying the love she still felt for Orm—it had always been there, buried beneath the pain and resentment. But love didn’t erase the hurt, the years of silence, or the lies that had festered between them.
Lingling exhaled sharply, her hand gripping the edge of the dresser as she steadied herself. “One step at a time,” she whispered, repeating Mae’s words to herself like a mantra.
Lingling smoothed her blouse over her torso, adjusting the hem as she prepared to leave her room. She exhaled softly, bracing herself to step back into the tension-filled atmosphere of the house. With a deep breath, she opened her door and stepped into the hallway.
Her steps faltered when she came face-to-face with Orm.
Orm was standing just outside the bathroom, her hair damp and curling slightly around her face. A fluffy white towel was wrapped securely around her body, the ends tucked neatly at her chest. Her bare shoulders glistened with tiny droplets of water that caught the soft morning light, and her cheeks were flushed—not just from the steam of the shower but from the sudden realization that she wasn’t alone.
“Oh!” Orm gasped, taking a small step back, her eyes wide with surprise. “I—I forgot my clothes.”
Lingling blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She hadn’t expected to see Orm like this—so vulnerable, so unguarded, and, to her reluctant admission, incredibly cute.
Her gaze betrayed her for a split second, flickering over Orm’s damp appearance before she snapped her eyes back up to meet Orm’s. Lingling’s lips pressed together, suppressing a smile at the way Orm fidgeted under her scrutiny, her hands gripping the edge of the towel tightly.
“You’re... heading to the guest room?” Ling asked, her voice even, though her lips quirked slightly at the corners.
Orm nodded quickly, her cheeks growing redder. “Yes. I just—I wasn’t thinking, and I left my clothes in there.”
Lingling leaned slightly against the doorframe of her room, folding her arms across her chest. She couldn’t help herself—Orm’s shy demeanor was both endearing and disarming. “You’re in quite the predicament, aren’t you?”
Orm bit her bottom lip, glancing nervously toward the guest room door just a few steps away. “I didn’t mean to—um, I’ll just...” She gestured awkwardly toward the door, taking a hesitant step forward.
Lingling’s eyes softened, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Go ahead, N’Orm. I won’t stop you.”
Orm’s eyes darted to her, her expression caught somewhere between mortification and gratitude. “Thank you,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she hurried past Lingling.
Lingling watched her retreat, a warmth spreading through her chest despite the awkwardness of the encounter. Orm disappeared into the guest room, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Lingling alone in the hallway.
For a moment, Lingling stood there, her heart beating faster than she cared to admit. She shook her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips as she turned to head downstairs.
She hasn’t changed at all, Ling thought, her expression softening as she descended the stairs. And maybe... that’s not such a bad thing.
Orm point of view
Orm shut the guest room door behind her, leaning against it as she let out a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding, her cheeks still burning from the unexpected encounter with Lingling.
She pressed her hand to her forehead, groaning softly. Great job, Orm. Just walk around in a towel and make things even more awkward.
Her gaze shifted to the neatly folded clothes she’d left on the bed, mocking her with their simplicity. She quickly crossed the room, pulling on the comfortable shirt and pants she’d brought the night before. The familiar scent of Ling’s old shirt lingered faintly on her skin, and it brought back a flood of memories—late nights, quiet laughter, and the warmth of their shared history.
But today wasn’t about the past. Orm knew she had to focus on the present, as uncertain and fragile as it felt. Lingling’s expression had been unreadable when they’d crossed paths, but there had been something in her eyes—something that made Orm’s chest ache with a mix of hope and guilt.
She didn’t look angry, Orm thought, adjusting the hem of her shirt. But she didn’t look forgiving either. What’s she thinking?
The memory of Lingling’s quick glance at her, the way her gaze had flickered ever so slightly before meeting Orm’s eyes, played on a loop in her mind. Orm couldn’t help but smile, despite her embarrassment.
She looked at me. Really looked at me.
Shaking her head, Orm ran a hand through her damp hair. Don’t read into it. One step at a time, she reminded herself. Mae’s words echoed in her mind, grounding her.
As she finished dressing, she glanced at the small mirror above the dresser, staring at her reflection for a long moment. Her eyes were tired, but there was a spark of determination in them that hadn’t been there in years.
Orm paced the guest room, her bare feet silent against the floor. Her earlier confidence wavered as her thoughts churned, the memory of Lingling’s steady gaze and soft chuckle still fresh in her mind. She ran a hand through her damp hair, her heart racing faster than it should have been.
I need to clear my head, she thought, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. The name Film stared back at her from the recent calls list, and without thinking twice, Orm tapped to dial.
The phone barely rang twice before Film’s familiar, teasing voice came through the line. “Well, well, someone survived the night. Should I be proud or disappointed that you didn’t get kicked out?”
Orm rolled her eyes, flopping onto the edge of the bed. “Hi, P’Film. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Confidence? Babe, you called me, so clearly you’re spiraling,” Film quipped, though her tone softened. “What happened?”
Orm let out a shaky breath, gripping the phone tightly. “She told me,” she said quietly, her voice wavering.
Film paused, her teasing tone dropping immediately. “Told you what?”
“She said she loves me,” Orm whispered, the weight of the words sinking in as she spoke them aloud. “It just slipped out, during an argument, but she said it. And, P’Film, I... I don’t know if she still means it. What if it was just... anger or frustration talking?”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Film let out a low whistle. “Damn. Okay, that’s big. And you’re overthinking, as usual. If she said it, it’s because it’s true. People don’t just throw that out in the middle of a fight unless they mean it.”
“But what if she regrets it?” Orm pressed, her voice barely above a whisper. “She didn’t say it again. She didn’t even acknowledge it this morning.”
Film’s voice was firm but kind. “Orm, stop spiraling. The fact that she said it at all is huge. Ling doesn’t seem like the type to say something she doesn’t mean, does she?”
Orm shook her head, even though Film couldn’t see her. “No, she doesn’t,” she admitted softly.
“Exactly. Now, you need to stop second-guessing everything and focus on what you can control. Did you tell her how you feel?” Film asked pointedly.
“I did,” Orm said, her chest tightening. “Last night. I told her I’ve always loved her. But it feels like she’s still holding back, P’Film. Like she’s scared to trust me again.”
“Of course she is,” Film replied, her tone empathetic. “You broke her heart, babe. It’s going to take time for her to let you in again. But you’re there now. You’ve already started breaking down those walls. Don’t stop now.”
Orm closed her eyes, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “I won’t,” she said softly. “I’m not giving up, P’Film. I just... needed to hear it from someone else.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Film said warmly. “And hey, maybe don’t focus so much on what she didn’t say. Focus on what she did. She loves you, Orm. That’s not something you can fake.”
Orm let out a small laugh, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. “Thanks, P’Film. You’re right. As usual.”
“Damn straight,” Film replied with a grin in her voice. “Now, go be the Orm who fights for what she wants. Ling deserves that, and so do you.”
Orm nodded to herself, the flicker of hope in her chest growing stronger. “I will. Thanks, Film.”
“Anytime, babe. Now go get her—and don’t forget to breathe.”
Orm hung up, setting the phone down on the bed as she let out a deep sigh. The weight in her chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.
She loves me, Orm thought, a small, hopeful smile tugging at her lips.
With renewed determination, she stood and headed for the door. Ling was just downstairs, and Orm wasn’t going to let fear hold her back any longer.
After leaving the guest room, Orm made her way downstairs, feeling slightly steadier than before. The comforting scent of jasmine and fresh breakfast still lingered in the air. As she stepped into the living room, she found Ling’s father sitting in his usual chair, reading the morning paper.
He looked up, noticing her. A small, polite smile touched his lips. “Ah, N’Orm. You’re awake.”
Orm nodded, offering a slight bow. “Good morning, Uncle.”
He set the paper down, his expression thoughtful. “Ling is outside in the garden with Bobo. She spends a lot of time out there in the mornings.”
Orm blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”
“You should join her,” he added, his tone calm but meaningful. “It’s good for both of you to talk, don’t you think?”
Orm hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I think so.”
With a small gesture of thanks, she made her way to the back door. As she stepped out, the warmth of the sun greeted her, along with the playful barks of Bobo. The golden retriever was bounding across the grass, his tail wagging furiously as he chased a ball.
And there was Ling, standing near the garden bed, her loose ponytail catching the sunlight. She wore a simple outfit, but she looked as radiant as ever, her laughter ringing out as Bobo raced back to her.
Orm stopped in her tracks for a moment, taking in the sight. How does she still take my breath away like this?
Lingling must have sensed her presence, because she turned, her laughter fading as her eyes met Orm’s. There was a flicker of surprise in her expression, quickly replaced by something more neutral.
“You’re up,” Ling said, tossing the ball one last time before straightening.
Orm nodded, her hands fidgeting slightly at her sides. “Uncle said you were out here.”
Lingling folded her arms loosely, her gaze steady. “I usually am. Bobo’s routine, not mine.”
Orm smiled faintly, stepping closer. “He looks happy. You’ve always been good with him.”
Lingling shrugged, glancing at the dog. “He’s a simple soul. Easy to please.”
The unspoken comparison hung in the air, but neither woman addressed it. Instead, Orm stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking but still significant.
“I wanted to check on you,” Orm said softly, her voice carrying a tentative vulnerability. “After everything I said last night, I just... I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
Lingling’s eyes flickered with something Orm couldn’t quite place—hesitation, maybe, or lingering hurt. She bent down to pick up the ball Bobo had dropped at her feet, her movements slow and deliberate.
“I’m fine,” Ling said finally, though her tone was distant.
Orm bit her lip, unsure how to push further without overwhelming her. “Ling, I—”
Before she could continue, Bobo bounded up to her, nudging her hand with his wet nose. Orm smiled despite herself, crouching down to pet him.
Lingling watched quietly, her expression softening just a fraction. “He remembers you.”
“Does he?” Orm asked, scratching behind Bobo’s ears.
Lingling nodded, her voice quieter now. “He does. You used to spoil him with treats during the Only You rehearsals.”
Orm chuckled softly, the memory warming her heart. “He deserved them. He’s a good boy.”
The atmosphere lightened slightly, the tension between them easing just enough for a small, tentative thread of connection to form. Orm stood, brushing her hands on her pants, and looked at Ling.
Orm sat down carefully on the chair across from Lingling, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on her chest. She glanced at Ling, who leaned back slightly in her chair, arms crossed loosely as she waited. The faint breeze stirred the air between them, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and jasmine from the nearby garden beds.
“I’ll leave after this,” Orm said softly, breaking the silence. “But I need to say this, Ling. I need you to know.”
Lingling tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “I’m listening.”
Orm took a deep breath, her hands clasping tightly in her lap as she tried to steady her voice. “These past two years without you… they’ve been unbearable. I thought I was doing the right thing by staying away, by giving you space, but all it did was tear me apart.”
Lingling’s gaze flickered, but she stayed quiet, letting Orm continue.
“I never met anyone else, P’Ling,” Orm confessed, her voice trembling slightly. “Not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t want to. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted. The only one I’ve ever loved.”
Lingling’s lips parted slightly, a hint of surprise breaking through her guarded demeanor.
Orm pressed on, her emotions spilling out now. “I tried to convince myself that I could move on, that maybe you’d be happier without me in your life. But I was wrong. I’ve never been able to move on, Ling. My heart—everything—it’s always been yours.”
The weight of Orm’s confession hung in the air, the vulnerability in her voice cutting through the tension. Lingling’s hands tightened slightly around her arms, her eyes fixed on Orm as though searching for any trace of insincerity.
“You think saying this now fixes everything?” Lingling asked finally, her tone quiet but laced with a sharp edge.
“No,” Orm admitted, shaking her head. “I know it doesn’t. I know words aren’t enough, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I needed you to know. Because I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you, Ling. I’m not.”
Lingling looked away for a moment, her gaze drifting to Bobo, who was happily gnawing on his ball a few feet away. Her chest tightened, a swirl of emotions pulling her in every direction.
“You kept so much from me, Orm,” she said finally, her voice trembling slightly. “You let me believe lies. You let me hate you. Do you even know how hard it’s been for me to trust anyone after that?”
Orm’s heart ached at Ling’s words, but she didn’t shy away. “I do know,” she said softly. “And it’s one of the biggest regrets of my life. I should’ve told you everything from the start. I should’ve fought for us, but I was too scared, too ashamed. I thought staying away was the right thing, but it wasn’t. It was cowardly.”
Lingling’s eyes snapped back to Orm, her anger and hurt simmering just beneath the surface. “And now? What do you expect from me, Orm? To just forget everything and take you back?”
“No,” Orm said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t expect anything, Ling. I just want you to know the truth. And if there’s even the smallest chance for us to try again, I’ll do whatever it takes to earn it.”
Lingling’s chest tightened at the raw honesty in Orm’s voice. She didn’t know what to say, her emotions a tangled mess of anger, hurt, and the undeniable love that still lingered between them.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and Bobo’s contented snuffling in the grass. Lingling sat still, her eyes fixed on Orm, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap.
But Lingling couldn’t hold back anymore. The question that had haunted her for years rose to the surface, demanding to be voiced.
“Why did you stay with Popor that night?” Ling asked quietly, her voice steady but laced with a sharp edge. “Why didn’t you choose me?”
Orm froze, her breath hitching as the words hung heavy in the air. She looked up, meeting Lingling’s gaze, her own eyes wide with surprise and guilt.
“Ling, I—” Orm started, but the words caught in her throat. She took a deep breath, her fingers clenching tightly in her lap. “I’ve asked myself that question every day since it happened.”
“That’s not an answer,” Ling said sharply, her jaw tightening. “I need to know, Orm. Why didn’t you choose me that night?”
Orm closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. When she opened them again, the raw vulnerability in her expression made Lingling’s chest ache despite herself.
“I was angry,” Orm said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “Not just at you, but at myself. At everything.”
Lingling frowned, her confusion deepening. “Angry? At me? For what?”
“For not acting on your feelings,” Orm admitted, her voice growing stronger. “For the entire Only You tour, Ling, I kept waiting for you to make a move, to say something, to show me that what we had was more than just... chemistry. Everyone else could see it. I thought you could too.”
Lingling blinked, her breath catching. “You were waiting for me?”
Orm nodded, her hands twisting nervously. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, Ling. But I didn’t know how to say it, how to make you see it. And at the end of the tour, when you still hadn’t said anything... I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe you didn’t feel the same.”
Lingling’s chest tightened, the weight of Orm’s confession sinking in. “So you were angry at me?” she asked, her voice quieter now.
“I was,” Orm admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. “But I was also angry at myself for not being braver. For not telling you how I felt instead of waiting for you to make the first move. And that night... I let that anger take over. I went with Popor because I wanted to hurt you, to make you jealous. It was stupid, and childish, and so, so wrong.”
Lingling’s fists clenched at her sides, her heart pounding as she processed Orm’s words. “And she hurt you Orm..” she said, her voice trembling. “Do you have any idea how much that night broke me, Orm? And now knowing how horrible that night was also horrible for you I blame myself for…”
But Orm’s interrupts her right away
“You can’t blame yourself P’Ling, I chose to stay with her at the bar when you left, I am the one who pushed you away, who hurt you. If I wasn't that selfish, or in love you I would leave you alone but I can’t”
Ling lips parted, she is shocked by Orm second confession and Orm’s can see how her words go through Ling
“ Who else in the industry is aware of that?” asks Ling out of the blue, very concerned tone, which shattered Orm, Ling’s protective side for her was still here.
Lingling’s heart felt like it was lodged in her throat as Orm’s words echoed in her mind. She watched as Orm hesitated, her hand hovering just above hers, so close but not quite touching.
“Don’t worry about that,” Orm said softly, her voice tinged with both reassurance and pain.
Ling point of view
But Ling couldn’t help it. The thought of Orm carrying this secret—of enduring everything that night had thrown at her while Ling had been in the dark—made her chest ache. Her protective instincts surged, overtaking the lingering anger and hurt.
“How can you tell me not to worry?” Ling said, her tone sharp but cracking at the edges. “You went through that, Orm. Alone. And if anyone else knew—”
“No one else does,” Orm interrupted gently, her voice firm but kind. “Only Film, Namtan, Kate, Nene, and Smith. They protected me, Ling. They’ve always had my back.”
Lingling exhaled shakily, her fingers curling into fists again. “They should’ve told me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I could’ve... I would’ve...”
“Would’ve what?” Orm asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching Ling’s. “Would’ve done what, P’Ling?”
Lingling’s chest tightened, the unspoken answer pressing heavily on her. I would’ve protected you. I would’ve stayed.
She couldn’t say it, not yet. Instead, she let out a frustrated breath, shaking her head as she turned her gaze to the ground. “I hate that you carried this alone. I hate that I didn’t know.”
Orm’s hand finally closed over hers, warm and grounding. The touch sent a jolt through Lingling, her breath hitching as she looked up to meet Orm’s gaze.
“You know now,” Orm said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against Ling’s knuckles. “And I’m here now. I can’t undo the past, Ling, but I can try to be better. For you.”
Lingling’s lips parted, a rush of emotions flooding through her. The vulnerability in Orm’s eyes was unmistakable, and it broke through the walls Ling had so carefully built around her heart.
She took a shaky breath, pulling her hand away gently but not harshly. “I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she admitted, her voice quiet but raw. “It’s too much, Orm. It’s just... too much.”
Orm nodded, her expression pained but understanding. “I know. And I don’t expect you to have an answer right now. I just needed you to know the truth, Ling. You deserve that much.”
Lingling turned away slightly, her eyes drifting to Bobo, who had settled down in the grass a few feet away. The golden retriever wagged his tail lazily, oblivious to the tension between the two women.
“I still need time,” Ling said finally, her voice steadier now.
“Take all the time you need,” Orm replied without hesitation.
Lingling glanced back at Orm, the sincerity in her tone making her heart ache. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them like a heavy fog.
Orm broke the silence first, her voice quiet but resolute. “I should go anyway,” she said, standing up slowly.
Lingling’s gaze followed her, conflicted emotions warring in her chest. She wanted to say something—anything—to make Orm stay, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Thank you for listening, P’Ling,” Orm added, her eyes lingering on Ling for a beat longer before she turned toward the house.
Lingling stayed rooted in place, watching as Orm walked away, her shoulders slightly hunched as though carrying the weight of every unspoken word between them. The sight tugged at Ling’s heart, but she didn’t move.
Bobo barked suddenly, breaking the silence, and bounded up to Lingling with the ball in his mouth. She crouched down, taking the ball from him absently as her eyes flickered back to Orm’s retreating figure.
“Why do you still make this so hard?” Lingling whispered, her voice lost in the breeze.
She tossed the ball for Bobo, her mind spinning with everything Orm had said. The garden felt quieter now, emptier, even though Bobo’s playful barks filled the air.
Lingling exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. She wasn’t ready, not yet. But as she watched Orm disappear into the house, she couldn’t ignore the faint flicker of something she hadn’t felt in years: hope.
Orm point of view
Orm stepped back into the house, the cool air greeting her as the door closed softly behind her. Her heart still raced from the conversation with Ling, her mind replaying every word, every glance.
The familiar warmth of the house felt different now—both comforting and heavy. She wasn’t sure if it was the memories it held or the weight of what she’d just left unsaid in the garden.
In the living room, Mae was sitting with a cup of tea, her gaze lifting when Orm entered. Ling’s father stood near the window, a newspaper in his hands, though he didn’t seem to be reading it.
“N’Orm,” Mae greeted her warmly, though her expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “How are you feeling, dear?”
Orm offered a small smile, bowing slightly. “I’m alright, Mae. Thank you—for everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Mae said gently, setting her teacup down. “You’re always welcome here.”
Orm’s smile faltered slightly, and she nodded. “I appreciate that. But I think it’s time for me to head back.”
Ling’s father folded his newspaper, stepping forward with a steady gaze. “Are you sure? It’s a long drive.”
“I’ll be fine,” Orm assured him, her voice steady but soft. “Thank you, Uncle. And... thank you for letting me stay last night. It means a lot.”
Mae stood, her kind eyes studying Orm for a moment before she reached out to pat her shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, N’Orm. Don’t forget to take care of yourself too, hmm?”
Orm nodded, the lump in her throat growing as she looked between them. “I will, Mae. I promise.”
“Good,” Mae said with a faint smile. “Ling’s lucky to have you back in her life. Don’t give up on her, alright?”
Orm blinked, surprised by the quiet encouragement in Mae’s words. “I won’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not ever.”
Ling’s father stepped forward, his voice firm but kind. “Drive safe. And if you need anything—anything at all—you know where to find us.”
Orm nodded again, bowing deeply to both of them. “Thank you. I’ll be on my way now.”
Mae walked with her to the door, her warm presence a comforting contrast to the whirlwind of emotions Orm felt. As she slipped on her shoes and opened the door, she glanced back one last time.
Lingling’s family stood together, their quiet support a reminder of the love she had always felt in this house.
“Goodbye,” Orm said softly. “And thank you again.”
Mae smiled gently, waving as Orm stepped out into the sunlight. “Take care, N’Orm.”
As Orm walked toward her car, the weight in her chest felt a little lighter. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in years, she felt like she was finally on the right path.