I care
Orm point of view
Orm unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, holding it open for Ling. Ling walked in without a word, her shoulders tense and her head slightly bowed. Mae Koy and P’Mam followed, their concern evident in the way their eyes darted between the two women.
“Sit down you two,” Mae Koy said gently, her tone firm but calm. Ling hesitated before moving toward the couch, sitting on the edge as though ready to spring up at any moment. Orm lingered by the door, glancing at Ling before reluctantly joining her.
“You two have been through enough today,” P’Mam said, her voice steady but tinged with worry. “This isn’t just going to blow over by tomorrow. The fight... it’s going to be talked about. So take a break tonight and we will see what we do tomorrow”
Ling tensed, her hands clenching into fists. Orm could feel the weight of the day pressing down on both of them. Orm could see the bruises appearing on Ling’s hands, she wanted to reach for her hand but she didn’t.
Mae Koy’s gaze softened as she looked at her daughter, she could see how much she wanted to take care of Ling. “Orm, you’re not invincible either. When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep? I need you both to rest ok?”
“I’m fine Mae, we will,” Orm replied quickly, shaking her head. “Ling needs to rest. That’s what matters right now.”
Ling’s head turned slightly at that, her eyes briefly meeting Orm’s before dropping again. Orm wanted to reach out, to say something more, but Mae Koy spoke first.
“We’ll head out,” Mae Koy said after a pause. “You both need some quiet. Orm, look after her, and yourself.”
Orm nodded, her jaw tightening. “I will Mae thank you.”
P’Mam stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on Ling’s shoulder. “We’ll manage any fallout from the event. Just focus on getting through tonight.”
“Thank you,” Ling said softly, her voice barely audible.
Mae Koy and P’Mam shared a glance before Mae Koy gave Orm a quick hug. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” Mae Koy said, her voice low but filled with trust.
Orm nodded again, watching as they left the apartment. The sound of the door clicking shut left the room in an almost oppressive silence.
Orm turned to Ling, who was staring at her hands, her posture stiff. The weight of everything they hadn’t said yet hung in the air, thick and unavoidable.
The silence lingered after Mae Koy and P’Mam left. Orm glanced at Ling, who still hadn’t moved from the couch. She looked exhausted, her shoulders slumped, and Orm’s chest tightened.
“You should take a shower,” Orm said gently, breaking the quiet standing up from the couch. “It’ll help.”
Ling hesitated, her gaze flickering to Orm before she nodded. “Okay.”
Orm walked her to the guest bathroom but paused when Ling asked, “Where should I go?”
“The shower in my room has better water pressure,” Orm replied, trying to sound casual. “You can use it.”
Ling didn’t argue, just nodded again. Orm grabbed a clean towel and handed it to her before stepping aside to let her into the room. “Take your time. I’ll make something to eat.”
As Ling disappeared into her bedroom, Orm stood in the hallway for a moment, her thoughts racing. She’s here. In my space. It felt surreal. She shook her head and moved to the kitchen, trying to focus on preparing a simple dinner.
From the kitchen, Orm could hear the faint sound of the shower turning on. She opened the fridge, pulling out ingredients for fried rice—something quick and comforting. As she chopped vegetables, she found her thoughts drifting to Ling.
Was she okay? Was she still angry? Did their kiss in the locker room mean anything to her? Orm bit her lip, her hands tightening briefly on the knife handle.
Orm wiped her hands on a dish towel, the rhythmic chopping slowing as uncertainty gnawed at her. The aroma of garlic and soy sauce filled the kitchen, but her mind was miles away, replaying the moments in the locker room.
She glanced toward the hallway, where the soft hum of the shower provided a backdrop to her swirling thoughts. Ling had always been the calm one, the steady presence that balanced Orm's impulsiveness. But lately, things had shifted— she didn’t know Ling could fight like that.
Orm took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She couldn't ignore the way Ling's absence left a void, nor could she pretend that her own feelings were simple. Cooking had always been her way to find solace, to process the chaos inside her. Yet today, even the familiar steps felt different, as if each chop and stir was drawing her closer to confronting Ling.
She glanced at the clock on the fridge—still early. Maybe Ling was just getting ready, needed a moment alone. Orm decided to give her space, though the urge to reach out was strong. She finished preparing the fried rice, the sizzling sound bringing a small sense of accomplishment. Sliding the pan into a bowl, she plated the meal and carried it to the dining table to prepare for both of them.
Ling point of view
Ling stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel securely around herself. The warmth of the water lingered on her skin, but it did little to soothe the whirlwind of emotions inside her. She glanced around Orm’s room, her heart heavy with the weight of where she was.
I’ve never been here before. The thought struck her with a strange pang. Orm’s apartment felt so personal, so... Orm. It was quiet, neatly arranged, but with hints of sentimentality tucked away in the details.
Ling’s gaze wandered as she padded softly across the room, her bare feet sinking into the soft rug. That’s when she noticed the corkboard above the desk. She froze.
There, pinned among the papers and notes, were photographs. Ling took a hesitant step closer, her eyes scanning each one. Some were group shots from The Secret of Us filming, others from the Only You tour. She recognized one instantly—a candid of the two of them smiling during a fan meet. Orm’s head was tilted slightly toward Ling, their shoulders almost touching.
Ling’s heart twisted at the sight. She kept these.
Her eyes shifted to the shelf beside the desk. A gray sweatshirt caught her attention. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing over the familiar fabric. It was hers—the one she’d given Orm during The Secret of Us filming, jokingly calling it her “armor” against the cold.
She kept this too?
Ling sat on the edge of the bed, her emotions a tangled mess. Seeing these things felt like opening a time capsule, a reminder of a version of Orm she thought she’d lost. The Orm who made her laugh, who listened, who always made her feel safe.
But now? Ling didn’t know how to feel. The warmth of the memories clashed with the ache of everything they’d been through.
She let out a shaky breath, running a hand through her damp hair. How did we even get here?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of clinking dishes coming from the kitchen. Ling stood, pulling on the casual clothes Orm had left for her. As she adjusted the shirt, she caught a faint whiff of Orm’s familiar scent on the fabric.
Her heart squeezed painfully, and she shook her head, willing herself to stay grounded. It’s just a shirt, Ling.
With one last glance at the corkboard, she turned and made her way out of the room.
Ling stepped out of Orm’s room, her footsteps soft against the apartment’s hardwood floor. She hesitated in the hallway, gathering herself before walking toward the kitchen. The smell of fried rice wafted through the air, comforting and nostalgic.
Orm looked up at the sound of Ling’s footsteps. For a moment, their eyes met, and Ling felt her breath hitch. Orm looked... tired. There were faint circles under her eyes, her usually confident posture carrying an edge of vulnerability. But there was something else, too—something tender in the way Orm looked at her.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Orm said softly, motioning toward the table. “I kept it simple. I hope that’s okay.”
Ling nodded, her voice catching slightly as she replied, “It smells good. Thank you.”
Orm gave a small smile and turned back to the stove, scooping the rice into two bowls. Ling moved toward the table, her gaze flickering to the neatly set plates and the glasses of water already waiting for them. The small, thoughtful gesture made her chest tighten.
She sat down, watching as Orm brought the bowls over and placed one in front of her. Orm took the seat across from her, her movements careful and deliberate.
For a moment, they ate in silence. Ling couldn’t help but notice the way Orm’s eyes would dart to her every now and then, as if to check if she was okay. It was endearing in a way that made her heart ache.
“Your apartment is nice,” Ling said finally, breaking the quiet. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
Orm looked up, surprised by the comment. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it’s... home.”
Ling nodded, taking another bite of her food. She wanted to say more, to tell Orm about the photos and the sweatshirt she’d found in her room. But the words caught in her throat. Not yet.
Instead, she asked, “Do you cook often?”
Orm’s lips curved into a small smile. “Not as much as I’d like to. I’m usually too busy. But tonight felt... important.”
Ling’s chest tightened at the sincerity in Orm’s voice. She placed her fork down, her appetite fading as the weight of the day pressed down on her again.
“I saw the pictures,” Ling said suddenly, her voice quiet but steady. “In your room. And the sweatshirt.”
Orm froze, her hand stilling mid-reach for her glass of water. Her eyes flickered to Ling’s, a mix of surprise and nervousness crossing her face. “You... saw those?”
Ling nodded, her gaze steady. “You kept them. After everything.”
Orm’s throat worked as she swallowed, setting the glass down carefully. “I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. They... mean a lot to me. You mean a lot to me, Ling.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Ling felt her chest tighten again, her emotions swirling in a confusing mix of longing and fear. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead, she reached for her glass, taking a sip to steady herself.
Orm point of view
Orm’s fingers tightened around her glass, her heart pounding as she watched Ling sip her water in silence. The weight of Ling’s words—You kept them. After everything.—pressed down on her, making it harder to breathe.
She hadn’t expected Ling to notice the pictures or the sweatshirt. She certainly hadn’t expected her to bring it up over dinner. And now, faced with Ling’s steady gaze, Orm felt stripped bare, like every carefully constructed wall she’d built over the years had been torn down.
“I didn’t keep them to hurt you,” Orm said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I kept them because... they’re the only pieces of you I had left. And I wanted to have you by my side…”
Ling’s eyes widened slightly, and Orm saw the faintest flicker of emotion—surprise, maybe even tenderness—before Ling looked away. Orm’s chest tightened further.
“I know I’ve made mistakes,” Orm continued, her tone almost pleading now. “But those memories... they remind me of who we were before everything went wrong. Before I let us fall apart. And believe me Ling when I say that I’ll spend everyday from now on to show how much I want this”
Ling placed her glass down slowly, her hands trembling just enough for Orm to notice. “I don’t know what to say,” Ling murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Orm leaned forward slightly, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “You don’t have to say anything, P’Ling. I just... I want you to know that I never stopped caring about you. Even when I was too afraid to face you, even when I thought I’d lost you for good. You were always the owner of my heart”
The vulnerability in her own voice startled Orm, but she didn’t regret the words. They were the truth—the truth she’d been holding back for far too long. She was so in love with Ling she needed to do something not to lose her once again, she will never forgive herself.
Ling finally looked up, her eyes locking with Orm’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension in the room shifted, charged with something unspoken yet undeniably real.
“Why now, Orm?” Ling asked, her voice trembling. “Why tell me all this now, after everything? Why kissing me in the locker room?” finishes Ling, her emotions starting to boil.
Orm hesitated, her throat tightening. “Because I’m tired of running. Tired of pretending that I don’t feel this way. And after today... seeing you fight like that, seeing you hurt... I realized I can’t keep waiting for the right time. I want to fight for us, P’Ling. If you’ll let me. I want to be with you”
The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Orm’s heart pounded as she watched Ling process her confession, her expression a mixture of confusion, pain, and something Orm couldn’t quite place.
Ling point of view
Ling felt her breath catch, her chest tightening as Orm’s words sank in. I want to fight for us. I want to be with you.
The vulnerability in Orm’s voice, the sheer rawness of her confession, hit Ling like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Orm looked at her, as if she were baring her soul, handing Ling her heart despite the risk of it being shattered again.
But it was too much. The kiss in the locker room, Orm pulling her out of the fight with Popor, the photos and sweatshirt in Orm’s room—it all swirled together, overwhelming her until she couldn’t breathe.
“You can’t just say things like that, Orm,” Ling said, her voice trembling.
Orm flinched at her tone, and Ling instantly hated how much it hurt to see the flicker of pain in Orm’s eyes.
“I know,” Orm said softly, her voice barely audible. “I know it’s unfair. I know I don’t deserve—”
“Stop,” Ling interrupted, her hand shaking as she pressed it flat against the table. Her emotions boiled over, spilling into her words. “Don’t say you don’t deserve this or me or whatever you think, Orm. This isn’t about whether you deserve it. This is about... how hard it’s been.”
Her voice cracked as she continued, the memories flooding back in vivid detail. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to know you spent the night with her? That you kissed her when you didn’t even kiss me back then?” Ling’s voice trembled with anger and heartbreak. “It broke me, Orm. It really did.”
Orm’s jaw tightened, her hands curling into fists on the table. “I never wanted it to be hard for you, Ling,” she said, her voice laced with guilt. “I thought staying away would make it easier. I thought you hated me. And when I found out the truth about Popor—that I didn’t do anything to stop it—I thought it was too late to fix things.”
Ling let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You think staying away made it easier? No, Orm, it didn’t. It made it worse. I didn’t understand why you left, why you didn’t fight for us back then. And then...”
Her voice faltered as she choked on the name, her throat tight. “And then I heard about Popor.”
She stopped, unable to say more, the weight of everything unsaid crushing her.
“I wanted you to choose me, Orm,” Ling whispered, her eyes glistening with tears she refused to let fall. “I wanted you to be brave enough to choose me. But you didn’t. You ran. And I had to pick up the pieces alone.”
Orm’s face crumpled, guilt and regret etched into every line of her expression. Her hand hesitated for a moment before reaching out to brush Ling’s lightly, her touch tentative but warm.
“I know I failed you, P’Ling,” Orm said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I know I let fear control me. But I’m here now, and I’m trying. Please... let me try.”
Ling stared down at their hands, Orm’s gentle grip grounding her in the moment. Her heart felt like a storm, emotions swirling uncontrollably. She wanted to pull away, to shield herself, but a deeper part of her—the part that had never stopped loving Orm—didn’t want to let go.
“Why?” Ling asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why now? Why do you want me back?”
Orm’s fingers tightened around hers, the tears in her eyes reflecting years of pain and longing. “Because I never stopped loving you, Ling. I thought I could move on, but I can’t. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”
Ling’s heart lurched painfully at Orm’s confession. The sincerity in her voice, the raw emotion in her gaze—it broke down every wall Ling had spent years building.
Fear lingered like a shadow, whispering doubts into her heart, but she remembered Junji’s words about second chances. Ling knew, deep down, that her heart still belonged to Orm.
She had loved her then. And she still loved her now.
Ling swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to do this, Orm. I don’t know how to trust you again... but I don’t want to lose you either.”
Orm point of view
Orm felt her breath hitch as Ling’s words washed over her. I don’t want to lose you either.
Her chest tightened, a mix of relief and longing overwhelming her. She had expected resistance, anger, maybe even outright rejection—but not this. Ling’s vulnerability mirrored her own, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Orm allowed herself to hope.
She gave Ling a small, tentative smile, her voice soft but steady. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now. I’m not asking for answers, P’Ling. Just... a chance. One step at a time.”
Ling nodded, her gaze dropping to her plate as she let out a shaky breath. “One step at a time,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, the tension between them shifting into something lighter, more fragile. Orm picked up her fork, pushing the food around her plate, her appetite finally returning now that the weight of her confession was lifted.
Ling glanced up briefly, catching Orm’s eye, and they shared a small, fleeting smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.
Orm stood after finishing her meal, collecting their plates and heading to the sink. Ling started to stand as well, but Orm shook her head.
“Sit. I’ll take care of it,” she said gently, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Ling hesitated but eventually sat back down, her expression softening as she watched Orm move around the kitchen. There was a quiet intimacy in the way Orm rinsed the dishes, as if she’d done this for Ling a hundred times before.
When Orm finished, she dried her hands and turned back toward Ling, her heart swelling at the sight of her sitting there, looking so beautifully familiar and yet so achingly distant.
“Would you like tea?” Orm asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Ling considered the question for a moment before nodding. “Tea sounds nice.”
Orm smiled, moving to prepare the tea. As she worked, she couldn’t help but steal glances at Ling, who seemed lost in thought who just retreated on the sofa.
Orm watched Ling take her first sip of tea, her movements instinctive yet careful. Ling paused, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at the cup.
“You still remember how I like it,” Ling murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Orm’s heart skipped a beat at the quiet revelation. Of course she remembered. The way Ling preferred her tea had always been second nature to her—just the right amount of steeping, a touch of honey, no sugar.
“How could I forget?” Orm replied softly, her gaze steady on Ling. “Some things... they stay with you, no matter what. Especially when it comes to you”
Ling’s lips pressed together as she looked back down at her tea. Orm could see the subtle shift in her expression, the mixture of emotions playing across her face—surprise, warmth, and something deeper, something fragile.
“It’s just tea,” Ling said after a moment, though her tone lacked conviction.
Orm leaned forward slightly, her fingers clasped around her own cup. “It’s not just tea, Ling. Not to me.”
Ling glanced up sharply, her breath hitching at the intensity in Orm’s gaze.
“P’Ling,” Orm began, her voice steady despite the rapid beat of her heart. “You told me earlier how much it hurt when I didn’t fight for us. And I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I need you to know... I never stopped fighting in my own way. Even when I made the wrong choices, even when I stayed away, you were always there. In my mind, in my heart. You always will be.”
Ling’s hand trembled slightly as she set her cup down, her eyes searching Orm’s for something—truth, maybe, or reassurance.
Ling’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken feelings and lingering doubts.
Orm reached across the table slowly, her hand stopping just short of Ling’s. “I’ll wait for you, P’Ling. For as long as it takes.”
___________________________________________
Orm hesitated for a moment, her eyes fixed on Ling’s face. The faint bruise on her cheek was more visible now under the warm living room llight, a stark reminder of everything that had unfolded earlier. Her heart clenched as guilt surged through her.
“Does it still hurt?” Orm asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ling looked up from her tea, startled by the question. She blinked a few times before shaking her head. “It’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”
But Orm wasn’t convinced. She reached out tentatively, her fingertips brushing against Ling’s cheek, just below the bruise. Ling froze, her breath catching at the gentle touch.
“Let me see,” Orm murmured, leaning in slightly, her hand lingering delicately against Ling’s skin. The warmth of the contact sent a jolt through her chest, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the faint discoloration marring Ling’s otherwise flawless face.
Ling didn’t pull away. Her eyes searched Orm’s, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded away. The tension, the doubts, the unspoken words—all of it dissolved into the simple, tender connection between them.
“You didn’t have to fight her,” Orm said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “You could’ve walked away.”
Ling’s lips twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile. “I couldn’t. Not after everything she’s done. Not after what she tried to do to you. I was so mad, I wanted to make her feel all the pain”
Orm’s chest tightened further, the weight of Ling’s words pressing down on her. “I’m sorry, P’Ling. I’m sorry you had to see her, to deal with her because of me. I should’ve—”
Ling interrupted her, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? I wasn’t fighting for me, Orm. I was fighting for you. For us. Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care. I care, Orm. More than I want to admit sometimes. And what she did to you, is unbearable for me.”
Orm’s breath hitched, her hand still resting lightly on Ling’s cheek. Her heart felt like it might burst at the admission, the sheer honesty in Ling’s words.She wanted to lean in and kiss her but she thought it wasn’t the right time.
Orm blinked, startled by the fierceness in Ling’s tone. “But—”
“No,” Ling said, her voice steady, leaving no room for argument. “She’s not your responsibility. She doesn’t get to control your life anymore. Not after what she’s done.”
Orm’s throat tightened, her emotions bubbling to the surface. “But she hurt you too, Ling. She made you think things that weren’t true. She—”
“And I’m dealing with it,” Ling interrupted, her voice softening but still resolute. “By letting her go. By choosing not to let her have power over me—or us—anymore.”
Orm stared at her, the weight of Ling’s words sinking in. It wasn’t just about Popor; it was about moving forward, about not letting the past dictate their future.
“I don’t want you to waste another moment on her,” Ling continued, her hand loosening its grip on Orm’s wrist but not letting go entirely. “I want us to focus on us. Not her. Just us.”
The conviction in Ling’s voice, the determination in her gaze—it left Orm speechless. She nodded slowly, her heart aching with a mixture of guilt and gratitude.
“Okay,” Orm whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Okay, Ling. No more Popor. Just us.”
Ling’s lips curved into a faint smile, her fingers brushing against Orm’s as she finally let go. The room felt still, charged with the quiet understanding that passed between them.
For the first time in years, Orm felt like she could breathe.