Chapter 4
The walk home was quiet, the cool evening air brushing against Ling’s face as she adjusted the strap of her soccer bag. The sky was painted with vibrant streaks of orange, pink, and faint gold, the last remnants of daylight stretching across the horizon. Wisps of clouds floated lazily, catching the colors of the setting sun like soft brushstrokes on a canvas.
The streets were alive with faint, distant sounds—a dog barking a few houses away, the rhythmic chirping of crickets starting up, and the occasional hum of a car passing by. The neighborhood felt warm and familiar, bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights just beginning to flicker on.
Normally, Ling found the solitude of this walk calming. It was her moment to decompress, to let the hum of her thoughts settle into the rhythm of her footsteps. But tonight, despite the beauty of the fading light and the comforting sounds of the neighborhood, the silence in her own mind felt heavier somehow.
As she reached her house, she paused by the gate, resting her hand on its cool metal surface. Her gaze flicked to the windows—dark, save for the faint glow of a nightlight in the hallway. The house looked as it always did, sturdy and unchanging, yet tonight it seemed to loom a little larger, the quiet inside pulling her in before she’d even opened the door.
Ling pushed the gate open, the creak cutting softly through the air, and made her way to the front door. She unlocked it and stepped into the stillness of the house.
The empty house was nothing new. Her dad’s work often kept him late, sometimes into the early hours of the morning. Ling had grown used to it over the years, convincing herself it didn’t bother her. But tonight, the quiet seemed to stretch longer, pressing against her like an unwelcome shadow.
She stepped inside, the door clicking shut softly behind her. The familiar scent of wood polish and faint remnants of her dad’s cologne lingered in the air, but it felt oddly hollow. She slipped off her cleats, the soft thud of each one against the hardwood floor echoing faintly in the stillness.
“Dad?” she called out, her voice cutting through the silence like a ripple.
She waited for a second, though deep down, she already knew.
The lack of a reply confirmed it. He was working late again.
Ling exhaled slowly, leaning against the doorframe as her gaze swept over the dimly lit living room. The couch cushions were slightly askew, and a half-empty mug of coffee sat on the small side table next to her dad’s usual chair. It looked as if he’d left in a rush, which wasn’t unusual.
Pushing off the doorframe, she made her way to the kitchen, the faint creak of the floorboards beneath her steps accompanying her like a familiar refrain. She opened the fridge, its cool air brushing her face as she scanned its contents. There wasn’t much—just a few leftovers in mismatched containers, a carton of eggs, and a bottle of orange juice. She grabbed a water bottle instead, twisting off the cap and taking a sip.
Her gaze wandered to the fridge door, its surface cluttered with an assortment of magnets and photos. She hadn’t really looked at them in a long time.
One photo stood out. Her mom’s bright, laughing face stared back at her. Ling felt her chest tighten as she stared at the image. In it, her younger self clung to her mom’s side, both of them drenched in sunlight at the beach. Her mom’s arm was wrapped protectively around her, and there was a carefree joy in their smiles that Ling could almost feel.
Almost.
She couldn’t remember what they’d been laughing about, no matter how hard she tried. The memory felt distant, like a dream she could only grasp in fragments.
Ling closed the fridge door slowly, her throat tightening. She hadn’t thought about her mom in a while—not because she didn’t want to, but because letting those memories surface always felt like opening a box she couldn’t close again.
The house felt colder now, the stillness amplifying the ache in her chest. She climbed the stairs to her room, each step muffled by the soft carpet but heavy with a weight she couldn’t shake.
Her room was bathed in the faint glow of the setting sun, the light filtering through the blinds and casting golden lines across the walls. She set the water bottle on her desk, her gaze drifting to the shelves above it. The neatly arranged books and polished soccer trophies stared back at her, a stark contrast to the quiet chaos in her mind.
Ling sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands resting on her knees as she stared at the floor. Her phone sat on the nightstand, its screen dark and still. She thought about texting her dad, just to feel like someone was on the other end of the silence. But she already knew what his reply would be:
'Working late. Don’t wait up.'
The words played in her mind before she even typed them, and her hand fell back to her side.
She leaned back onto the bed, her head sinking into the pillow as her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Memories of her mom swirled in her mind like fragments of a song she’d once known by heart but had forgotten the lyrics to. Her mom’s laughter. The warmth of her hugs. The soft, familiar melody she’d hum while cooking dinner.
It all felt so close, yet impossibly far away, like reaching for sunlight through a window you couldn’t open.
The silence in the house wrapped around her like a heavy blanket, the faint tick of the clock on her desk the only sound. For the first time in a while, Ling let the loneliness settle in, its presence undeniable and suffocating.
She sighed softly, her eyes fluttering shut as the weight of the day—and everything it had stirred—pulled her into the stillness.
Ling lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of the quiet house pressed against her. The loneliness crept in like a cold draft under a closed door, making her chest feel heavy.
She hated this feeling—the emptiness, the stillness that seemed to amplify every thought she wanted to push away. It gnawed at her, leaving her restless and drained at the same time.
Her fingers traced aimless patterns on the bedspread as she tried to shake the gloom settling over her. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, the silence around her was unrelenting.
And then, cutting through the stillness, came a sound.
Ling blinked, sitting up slightly. It was faint at first, barely noticeable over the hum of her thoughts. But as she tilted her head toward the window, it grew clearer: a voice, soft and melodic, drifting through the air like a breeze.
She moved toward the window, her steps slow and deliberate. Drawing the blinds aside, she glanced toward the house next door, her eyes searching for the source of the song.
Her gaze landed on Orm’s room, the light spilling out through the window. From where she stood, Ling could see Orm moving about, still tidying up the boxes and piles of stuff she’d been unpacking.
Orm’s voice carried effortlessly through the quiet evening, the melody warm and unhurried. Her lips moved softly, her light hair catching the golden glow of her desk lamp as she hummed the tune. It was a song Ling didn’t recognize, and the words blurred together at this distance. But it didn’t matter. The sound was soothing like sunlight breaking through a storm.
Ling leaned her head against the cool glass, her eyes fixed on Orm as the girl worked, pausing occasionally to place something carefully on a shelf or fold a stray piece of clothing. She wasn’t performing; she was just... being herself, singing as if no one was listening.
For the first time since she had come home to the heavy loneliness of an empty house, a small, genuine smile tugged at Ling’s lips.
The weight in her chest began to lift, replaced by a warmth she couldn’t quite explain. It was strange, she thought, how Orm’s voice—so unguarded and genuine—could chase away the shadows Ling had been trying to outrun all evening.
And as Orm’s song carried on, Ling felt something she hadn’t in a long time in this house, or in this place: peace.
Ling remained by the window, leaning slightly against the frame, her arms crossed loosely. She wasn’t really thinking about whether Orm could see her or not—she was too caught up in the sound of Orm’s voice, letting it wash over her like waves gently lapping at the shore.
Orm, meanwhile, moved about her room, placing a few more items on her shelf before glancing toward her own window. At first, she didn’t think much of it—just catching the faint silhouette of Ling standing at her window.
Orm smirked slightly, expecting Ling to say something. A teasing remark, maybe, or at least an acknowledgment that she’d been caught listening.
But Ling didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She simply stood there, her dark eyes fixed on Orm with a calm, unreadable expression.
Realizing Ling wasn’t going to break the silence, Orm paused mid-step and tilted her head slightly. Her singing faltered as she made her way to the window, the light catching in her amber eyes.
Orm pushed it open, resting her arms on the windowsill as she leaned toward Ling’s side. “You know,” she said, her voice carrying a playful lilt, “if you’re gonna eavesdrop on my private concert, you should at least pay up.”
Ling blinked, her focus snapping back to the present. “Pay up?” she repeated, her tone dry.
Orm grinned, her fingers drumming lightly on the windowsill. “Yeah. A performance fee. That’s what you owe me for lurking in the shadows over there, soaking up my beautiful voice for free.”
Ling huffed softly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Lurking? I’m in my own room, Kornnaphat.”
Orm shrugged dramatically. “Details, details. Doesn’t change the fact that you owe me.”
“And what exactly is the payment?” Ling asked, raising an eyebrow.
Orm pretended to think for a moment, her grin widening. “Hmm… snacks. Definitely snacks. You still owe me snacks, remember?”
Ling sighed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless.”
Orm grinned, her fingers drumming lightly on the windowsill. “Thank you. I’ll take a bag of chips or maybe some Pocky. You know, for all this raw talent I’m sharing.”
Ling raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’ve got it backward, Kornnaphat. If anything, it’s your turn to pay for snacks next.”
Orm gasped in mock offense, clutching her chest dramatically. “Excuse me? How do you figure that?”
“Simple,” Ling said, leaning casually against the windowsill. “You’ve been filling the air with unsolicited sound. Pretty sure that counts as a public performance tax.”
Orm stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Wow, LingLing Kwong. Didn’t know you had jokes.”
“Plenty,” Ling replied dryly, her smirk widening.
“Fine,” Orm said with an exaggerated sigh, her grin still firmly in place. “Snacks are on me next time. But don’t expect anything fancy. Maybe just some gum.”
Ling chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Deal.”
“Good,” Orm said, giving her a playful wave. “Now that we’ve settled that, you may continue enjoying the concert.”
Ling rolled her eyes but didn’t move from the window. For the first time in a long while, the house didn’t feel so heavy, the quiet didn’t feel so empty.
Orm resumed her singing, her voice softer now, her gaze flickering toward Ling’s window every so often. Ling stayed where she was, her smirk fading into a small, genuine smile as the warmth of Orm’s presence seeped through the space between them.
Ling leaned against the windowsill, her gaze soft as she continued to listen to Orm’s voice. The melody filled the quiet gaps in her house, replacing the loneliness with something warm and alive.
Then, an unexpected feeling stirred in her—a sudden urge she hadn’t felt in years. Her gaze drifted to the corner of her room where her guitar rested against the wall, untouched for so long that dust had started to gather on its body.
The guitar was more than just an instrument; it was a gift from her mom, something she had treasured deeply. Her mom had given it to her on her thirteenth birthday, promising to teach Ling all her favorite songs. But that promise had been left unfulfilled, and the guitar had sat there ever since, a quiet reminder of what was lost.
Ling hesitated for a moment, then pushed off the windowsill, walking to the guitar. She crouched by it, brushing her fingers lightly over its strings. The familiar feel brought a wave of nostalgia and a slight pang in her chest. She picked it up carefully, wiping off the thin layer of dust with the sleeve of her hoodie.
After a moment’s pause, her gaze shifted back toward her window. Something about Orm’s voice—the warmth and unguarded energy—pulled her toward it, like an invitation she couldn’t ignore.
Ling settled herself on the windowsill, the guitar resting on her lap as she leaned against the frame. The cool evening air brushed past her as she adjusted the instrument. Her fingers hovered over the strings, unsure at first. Then, with a deep breath, she plucked a simple melody—a faint echo of something her mom used to play.
As Ling struck the chords, even though her fingers fumbled slightly and the strings buzzed from lack of practice, she kept going. The uncertainty in her hands gradually gave way to something more fluid as her muscle memory awakened. Her mind drifted back to the days when she had played the guitar regularly, the hours spent strumming aimlessly in her room, back when it felt like her mom was just in the other room humming along.
The more she played, the more confident she felt. Her movements steadied, the hesitation slipping away as a rhythm took shape beneath her fingertips. Without realizing it, she began picking out a familiar melody—a tune that seemed to rise from somewhere deep in her memories.
Across the way, Orm leaned against her windowsill, her arms resting on the edge as her amber eyes fixed on Ling. The knickknacks and boxes she’d been unpacking were abandoned, their contents left half-sorted on her desk and floor. Her focus was entirely on the girl across the space, framed by the glow of her desk lamp and the fading light of the evening.
Orm’s curiosity was piqued by the first tentative notes Ling played. The sound was soft, uncertain, like the beginnings of a whisper. Ling’s fingers moved cautiously over the strings, her brows furrowing slightly as she adjusted to the feel of the guitar. Orm could see her hesitance, the way she paused after each chord as though testing its weight before moving on.
But even in those shaky beginnings, there was something captivating about the moment. Orm noticed the way Ling’s shoulders seemed to relax bit by bit, the tension melting away as her fingers began to move with more purpose. The melody wasn’t perfect—Orm could hear the occasional buzz of a misplayed string—but there was a quiet honesty in the way Ling played, as though the guitar was something she hadn’t touched in years but had never truly let go of.
Orm’s gaze softened as she took in the details: the way Ling tilted her head slightly as if listening intently to the notes, her lips pressing together in concentration, her dark eyes focused on the strings. It was a side of Ling Orm hadn’t expected—quiet, unguarded, and deeply personal.
The sound floated across the space between their windows like a soft invitation, and Orm leaned closer, her chin resting on her folded arms. She could feel the warmth in the melody, even as it stumbled, and pulled at something inside her.
As the notes grew steadier, Orm tilted her head slightly, her brows knitting in recognition. The tune was familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it yet. She stayed silent, watching Ling as the guitar’s voice grew stronger, filling the evening air with a quiet persistence that made Orm’s heart stir.
Orm’s eyes lingered on Ling’s movements, the soft rise and fall of her hands as they coaxed a melody from the strings. She noticed how Ling’s expression shifted—what started as a cautious focus gradually softened into something more natural. Ling’s lips curved ever so slightly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, as if she, too, was starting to remember how much she’d loved this.
Then the tune began to take shape. The hesitant notes found their rhythm, connecting into a melody that struck a chord deep in Orm’s chest.
Orm tilted her head slightly, her amber eyes narrowing in recognition. The tune Ling was playing—it wasn’t just familiar. It was a song she knew well, one that carried its own weight of memories.
Her fingers tightened on the windowsill as the realization settled. Orm’s lips parted, and for a moment, she simply listened, letting the sound drift into her room like a soft breeze. The melody wrapped itself around her, warm and inviting, until she couldn’t stop herself from joining in.
Orm’s voice was quiet at first, tentative as it wove into the melody Ling played.
“Wise men say… only fools rush in…”
The soft harmony floated through the space between their windows, wrapping around Ling’s guitar notes like a warm thread. Ling’s fingers faltered briefly, the unexpected sound pulling her gaze upward. When her dark eyes met Orm’s amber ones, her breath hitched for a moment.
Orm leaned against her windowsill, her expression calm yet intent, her eyes sparkling under the warm glow of her desk lamp. Her voice carried an easy warmth, unpolished but full of feeling as if she were sharing something deeply personal yet unguarded.
Ling hesitated, her fingers hovering over the strings as she processed the moment. A faint flush crept up her neck, and she swallowed hard, her heart skipping slightly. But as Orm’s voice grew steadier, wrapping itself around the song’s gentle rhythm, Ling’s hands moved instinctively. She struck the next chord, letting the melody pull her back in.
Orm’s voice softened for a moment as if testing the waters, before lifting again.
“But I can’t help… falling in love with you…”
A small smile tugged at Ling’s lips, one she didn’t entirely notice or control. Her movements across the guitar strings grew more confident, her hands falling into a rhythm she hadn’t felt in years.
Orm’s heart gave a tiny flutter as she saw Ling’s hesitation melt into something natural, her dark eyes focused intently on the guitar. Orm swayed slightly to the music, the glow of the melody spreading across her chest like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. It wasn’t just the song that pulled her in—it was the way Ling played, the raw honesty in every note.
“Shall I stay… would it be a sin…”
Ling glanced up again, her gaze flicking toward Orm. She didn’t speak, but the soft blush on her cheeks deepened. Somehow, it felt easier to communicate through the music. Words would’ve been clumsy, and unnecessary. Her fingers danced across the strings with more assurance, as if telling Orm, I hear you.
Orm’s amber eyes softened as she leaned a little closer to her window. She hadn’t expected this moment—it was spontaneous and completely unplanned—but it felt as though it had been waiting to happen. The way their voices and the guitar entwined seemed effortless, and yet, it carried so much unspoken meaning.
Orm let herself sink into the chorus, her voice lifting with quiet confidence.
“But I can’t help… falling in love with you…”
Ling’s fingers moved over the strings almost instinctively now, pulling the chords into perfect harmony with Orm’s voice. Her chest felt warm, lighter than it had in days—maybe even longer. Every chord she played felt like a small piece of herself being shared, and Orm’s voice was the perfect thread tying it all together.
Orm closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting the music carry her, a soft smile resting on her lips. Her heart swelled with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name: joy, comfort, connection.
When Ling played the final chords, she let them linger in the air, the notes fading into the quiet night. The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was full of meaning, the kind that didn’t need words.
Orm opened her eyes, her grin spreading wide as she leaned against her arms on the windowsill. “Not bad, Sirilak. Didn’t know you had that in you.”
Ling chuckled softly, adjusting the guitar in her lap. “Didn’t know you were going to turn it into a concert.”
“Couldn’t resist,” Orm replied with a laugh, her voice light and teasing. “But seriously… that was amazing.”
Ling shrugged, but the small, genuine smile on her face lingered. “Guess I had a good backup vocalist.”
Orm raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Backup vocalist? Please. That was a duet, Sirilak. Equal parts.”
Ling smirked faintly, leaning against the window frame. “Fine. Equal parts. Happy?”
“Very,” Orm said, her grin softening into something gentler. “Next time, though, we should pick a song we both know.”
“Next time?” Ling asked, her tone teasing.
Orm nodded firmly. “Yeah, next time. What, you thought this was a one-time deal? We’re officially a duo now.”
Ling huffed softly, shaking her head, but her smile didn’t waver. “You’re relentless, Kornnaphat.”
“Thank you,” Orm replied brightly, her grin unwavering.
For the first time in a long while, Ling felt something light, something steady and warm. The house no longer felt so empty, and the quiet between them felt anything but lonely.
As the night deepened, the sounds of the neighborhood faded, leaving only the soft rustle of the wind and the occasional chirp of crickets. Ling stayed by her window, her guitar resting on her lap, her fingers absently strumming a few quiet notes.
Orm hadn’t moved much from her own spot. Her arms rested on the windowsill as she leaned forward, her amber eyes watching Ling with a lazy kind of interest. The air between them felt warm and calm like the lingering notes of their song had left something unspoken yet understood.
“Do you play often?” Orm asked, breaking the comfortable silence. Her voice was softer now, curious but gentle.
Ling shook her head, glancing at the guitar. “Not for a long time,” she admitted her tone even.
“Why not?”
Ling hesitated, her fingers brushing lightly over the strings as she thought. “Just… didn’t feel like it anymore,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Things got… busy, I guess.”
Orm tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Ling’s face. She could see there was more to it than what Ling was saying, but she decided not to press. Instead, she smiled softly. “Well, you’re good. Rusty, sure, but good.”
Ling huffed a small laugh, the corner of her lips twitching upward. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, backup singer.”
Orm laughed, shaking her head. “There you go with that ‘backup’ thing again. I’m a star, Sirilak. The one people come to see.”
“Sure,” Ling said dryly, leaning her shoulder against the window frame. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Orm grinned but didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze shifted to the sky, where the faint glow of stars peeked through the darkening blue. “It’s nice, though,” she said after a moment, her voice softer. “This… sharing a song with someone. It feels… different. In a good way.”
Ling’s expression softened as she followed Orm’s gaze. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It does.”
For a moment, they let the stillness stretch, the connection between them unspoken but tangible.
Orm finally broke the silence, her tone turning light again. “Alright, LingLing Kwong. One song’s enough for tonight. I need to finish unpacking before I drown in a sea of knickknacks.”
Ling smirked. “You mean the ones you completely forgot about during your ‘concert’?”
Orm rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “Exactly. My adoring fans are just so distracting.”
“Right,” Ling said, her tone teasing. “Good luck with that, star.”
Orm winked as she stood, stepping back from her window. “Night, Sirilak.”
“Night, Kornnaphat,” Ling replied with a faint smile, watching as Orm disappeared into her room.
Ling sat for a while longer, her guitar still resting in her lap. The house, once heavy with silence, felt lighter now as if the music and Orm’s laughter had left a trace of warmth lingering in the air. She glanced at the stars once more before standing and carefully placing the guitar back in its spot.
A faint smile stayed on her lips as she turned toward her bed, a quiet thought settling in her chest: sometimes, a connection could come from the simplest moments—like a song shared between two windows.
.......................................
The morning sun filtered through Ling’s blinds, painting her room in soft, golden light. She stirred at the sound of her alarm, groaning as she reached over to silence it. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the ceiling for a moment, the warmth of yesterday’s unexpected connection still lingering in her chest.
Ling frowned slightly, unsure of why her mind kept drifting back to Orm. It didn’t make sense. They had only just met, yet Orm's teasing smile and the way she leaned against her window as if the world outside didn’t matter… it stuck with her in a way Ling hadn’t expected.
She wasn’t someone who let people in easily. Her quiet demeanor and the unspoken wall she kept up often seemed to keep others at a distance. People called her unapproachable, and while she acted like it didn’t bother her, deep down, it did. Ling didn’t want to be seen as cold or distant—it was just that meeting new people or making friends wasn’t easy for her.
She was cautious, always second-guessing who to trust and who to let into her life. Ling had learned the hard way that letting the wrong people in could hurt more than keeping them out. That caution had turned into a shield, one that she’d worn so long it felt like a part of her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want connections—she did—but the risk had always seemed greater than the reward.
But with Orm? That shield seemed to crumble. Orm didn’t push against it or try to force her way in; she just existed on the other side, smiling and teasing, making Ling forget the wall was ever there. Every time Ling thought about her, it felt like her defenses didn’t matter, as if they were being quietly disarmed without her realizing it. And that scared her almost as much as it intrigued her.
Her thoughts circled back to their differences. Orm was loud, unpredictable, and so open—everything Ling wasn’t. Their personalities clashed in every way, yet every time Orm smiled or made one of those effortless jokes, it felt like a piece of the puzzle Ling didn’t even know she was missing. It didn’t belong, but somehow, it fit. How could someone so different have this effect on me?
Ling sighed, her brow furrowing as she sat up in bed. The warmth of yesterday’s connection with Orm lingered in her chest, refusing to fade no matter how much she tried to push it aside.
“Get it together,” she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her hair. She rubbed her face vigorously as if the motion could somehow reset her thoughts. But Orm’s teasing grin, her melodic voice, and that unshakable energy were still there, etched into Ling’s mind like a stubborn tune she couldn’t stop humming.
Ling groaned, standing up abruptly. She gave her head a slight shake, almost like she was physically trying to dislodge the thoughts. “It’s just one day,” she reminded herself. “You barely know her.”
With a resolute exhale, Ling headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, hoping the cold water would wash away the strange mix of confusion and curiosity twisting in her chest. By the time she was dressed in her school uniform—a crisp white blouse, skirt, and neatly pressed socks—she had managed to pull herself back into her usual routine.
Ling slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped outside, the cool morning air refreshing against her skin. She adjusted her uniform, smoothing down any wrinkles as she glanced at her polished shoes. The routine was predictable and comforting—just how she liked it.
But as she locked the front door and started down the path, her gaze automatically flicked toward Orm’s house.
From the open window of Orm’s house, she could hear a cascade of sounds—raised voices, something crashing to the floor, hurried footsteps rushing through the house, and a door slamming shut. It wasn’t just the sounds of people getting ready; it was the frantic rush of life happening all at once, a chaotic pulse she couldn’t ignore. It was so different from the calm, quiet rhythm of her own mornings. Ling couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, curious about what was going on inside, but it wasn’t like she could ask. She hadn’t even known Orm very long.
Ling hadn’t expected to see Orm this morning, but as she walked toward the gate, the door next door creaked open.
Orm emerged with the energy of a small hurricane. Her light hair was swept into a messy ponytail, her untucked shirt flapping slightly as she slung her bag over one shoulder. She let out a loud yawn, stretching her arms overhead like she’d already conquered the day.
Spotting Ling, Orm’s face lit up. “Good morning, LingLing Kwong!” she called cheerfully, her tone laced with mischief.
Ling raised an eyebrow, suppressing a groan. “Do you have to say my name that way every time?”
“Absolutely,” Orm replied, her grin widening as she bounded over to Ling. “I have the copyright on it. It’s too fun to stop now.”
Ling sighed dramatically, her exasperation only half genuine. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here we are,” Orm quipped, falling into step beside Ling as they began their walk to school.
As they walked toward school, Ling couldn't help but notice how Orm's presence seemed to change the very air around them. The street, which had once felt so predictable and calm, now seemed to hum with an unspoken vitality. It was as though Orm was making the world feel just a little more... alive. The morning light, soft and golden, seemed to catch every strand of Orm’s light hair, making it glow like spun gold. Ling couldn’t help but watch as Orm skipped ahead with that carefree, unbothered energy, humming a random tune as if the world around her didn’t matter.
But what really caught Ling’s attention, almost against her will, was the way the light seemed to emphasize Orm’s beauty. Her amber eyes shimmered with the reflection of the early sunlight, their depth almost unnerving. Since the moment they’d met, Ling had been inexplicably drawn to them—captivated by the way they shone with warmth and curiosity, so full of life and energy. The sunlight only made them more striking, as though the world had decided to highlight them, making them impossible to ignore. Ling had never before seen eyes like Orm’s—so vibrant, so alive, pulling her in without effort, without asking for permission.
And then there was her skin—so pale, so smooth, almost translucent under the delicate light. It had an ethereal quality, like marble or porcelain, set against the backdrop of the chaotic morning she carried with her. It wasn’t just her appearance; it was the way the world seemed to bend around her, highlighting the very qualities Ling had been trying to ignore. Orm’s beauty was undeniably striking, in a way that made Ling’s breath catch for a moment, almost like she’d been caught in a spell.
Ling turned her gaze away quickly, trying to focus on the ground beneath her feet as she walked. Her heart was suddenly racing—What is wrong with me? She had never paid this much attention to anyone, let alone someone so chaotic and unpredictable. It felt like the sun itself had decided to shine just a little brighter for Orm, pulling her into focus, and giving her a glow that Ling couldn’t seem to look away from. Her hair danced in the breeze, the soft strands catching the light with every step she took, and Ling couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just the effect of the morning sun, or if there was something else going on.
Ling didn’t know how to process it. Orm’s beauty wasn’t just in her looks; it was in the way she moved, the way she made the mundane seem extraordinary. It was like everything about Orm had an edge of magic like she was the spark to Ling’s quiet and contained routine. And Ling... well, Ling was left standing in the wake of it, trying to make sense of the feelings that were suddenly bubbling up.
As they continued walking toward the school, the morning sun stretched lazily across the sky, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The street was alive with the usual hum of people starting their day—cars driving by, people chatting on the corners, and the soft scuff of sneakers against concrete. But Ling’s focus was entirely on Orm, whose carefree presence seemed to make everything else fade into the background.
Orm, walking alongside Ling with her usual energy, bounced her steps as they strolled. After a few moments of silence, Orm glanced over at Ling with a mischievous grin.
“So,” Orm started, her voice light and teasing, “about that guitar you were playing last night... You’ve been playing for a while, huh?”
Ling raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. She’d thought about the guitar more than she liked to admit, but she hadn’t expected Orm to bring it up so casually. She didn’t want to delve into the real reason she’d started playing, especially since the guitar had been a gift from her late mother. The last thing she wanted was to explain all that to Orm—not yet, at least.
“Yeah, I’ve been playing for a while,” Ling said with a shrug, hoping to keep it light. “I picked it up when I was younger, just something to pass the time.”
Orm grinned, clearly not buying it. She tilted her head, eyeing Ling with a curious, almost mischievous glint in her eyes.
“You sure? I mean, you played pretty well, but you seemed a little... rusty on some parts,” Orm teased, her tone playful. “Did you forget how to play during your ‘break’ or something?”
Ling couldn’t help but let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Maybe I just had a bad night,” she said quickly, brushing off the comment. “It happens.”
Orm laughed, but there was an impressed edge to her voice as she added, “Well, whatever the case, you definitely don’t sound like someone who’s just ‘passing the time.’ You’ve got some skills.”
Ling felt a faint flush rise to her cheeks, a little embarrassed but also oddly pleased by the compliment. It was strange—Orm's teasing didn’t feel like an insult. There was genuine fascination in her tone like she couldn’t quite understand how Ling could play so effortlessly, even with a bit of rust.
“Really? I think you’re just being nice,” Ling said, trying to play it off.
Orm smirked, her eyes bright. “Hey, I’m not the type to hand out compliments unless they’re earned. And you’ve definitely earned that one.”
Ling shrugged, trying to hide the warmth creeping into her chest. “It’s really no big deal. Just practice.”
Orm raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but she let it go for now. “Well, whatever it is, it’s pretty cool. If you’re ever in the mood for a duet, you know where to find me.”
Ling snorted at the suggestion, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Backup vocalist, huh? Noted.”
Orm grinned. “You’ll see! My vocal range is unmatched.”
Ling raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I mean, you seem pretty confident about it, but I can’t help but wonder… Do you always like to sing? Or is this just a new thing for you?”
Orm flashed a grin, shrugging casually. “I’ve always liked it, yeah. It’s kind of my thing when I’m in the mood. Just helps me clear my head. You know how it is.”
Ling gave her a thoughtful look, then spoke with a genuine tone. “I’ve gotta say, when I heard you singing last night... it kind of pulled me out of my head, you know? I was in my own little world, and your voice just cut through it. It was like... everything else just faded away for a bit.”
Orm’s grin softened, a little surprised by the sincerity in Ling’s words. “You’re serious? You really felt that way?”
Ling nodded, her eyes briefly flickering over to Orm. “Yeah. It wasn’t just the singing—it was like you weren’t even trying. It felt... real. I don’t know, it kind of reminded me to just... stop thinking so much.”
Orm blinked, taken aback by how much Ling was revealing, and for a moment, her usual playful attitude faded. “I didn’t know I could do that,” she said quietly, her voice softer now.
Ling’s gaze shifted slightly, a subtle change in her expression as she spoke so quietly that Orm barely heard her. “You know... hearing you sing... it actually sparked something in me. I hadn’t picked up my guitar in years. But last night... after I heard you... I just felt like I had to. Like I needed to play again.”
Orm didn’t quite catch all of it, but she noticed the softness in Ling’s voice and the way her expression had changed. “Wait, you’re serious?” she asked, a little confused but clearly intrigued.
Ling gave a small, almost embarrassed shrug. “It’s nothing. Just... something I hadn’t done in a while.”
Orm smiled, sensing there was more to it but not pushing. “Well, I’m glad I could inspire you in some way.” She chuckled, her usual teasing tone returning. “Guess I’ll take credit for your musical comeback, then.”
Ling gave a small, almost embarrassed shrug. “It’s nothing. Just... something I hadn’t done in a while.”
Orm smiled, sensing there was more to it but not pushing. “Well, I’m glad I could inspire you in some way.” She chuckled, her usual teasing tone returning. “Guess I’ll take credit for your musical comeback, then.”
Ling gave her a dry look. “Don’t get too cocky,” she replied, her tone flat. “But, sure. Whatever.”
Orm laughed, the warmth between them lingering in the air. “Alright, alright. But seriously, if you ever want to join me for a jam session, you know where to find me.”
Ling rolled her eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk on her face. “We’ll see about that. For now, I think I’ll keep my guitar to myself.”
As they walked closer to the school gates, the morning energy of the campus began to surround them. Groups of students chatted in clusters, the low hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the faint screech of bike tires. But to Ling and Orm, it all faded into the background.
They were deep in conversation, their voices weaving effortlessly together.
“Okay, but you can’t seriously tell me that ketchup on fries is worse than dipping them in a milkshake,” Orm said, her amber eyes glinting with mock disbelief.
Ling gave her a sidelong glance, her tone flat. “It’s not worse. It’s equally disgusting.”
Orm gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest. “You’re a monster, LingLing Kwong.”
Ling sighed, though her lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Says the person who thinks pineapple belongs on pizza.”
“It does!” Orm exclaimed, her voice light and full of laughter. “It’s sweet and savory. The perfect combination.”
Ling shook her head, muttering, “You’re hopeless.”
Unbeknownst to them, a pair of familiar eyes had caught sight of the duo from a short distance away. Junji, standing near the bike rack with Fluke, froze mid-sentence as her gaze locked onto Ling and Orm.
“Fluke,” Junji said, her voice slow with disbelief.
Fluke followed her line of sight, his basketball tucked under one arm. When he saw Ling walking with Orm, talking and... smiling, his eyebrows shot up. “Is that... Ling?”
Junji’s jaw dropped. “It is. What the—? Is she smiling?”
“She is,” Fluke said, tilting his head. “And laughing, I think.”
Junji squinted at Orm. “Wait, is that the new girl? Orm? The one we met yesterday?”
“Looks like it,” Fluke replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Wow, she works fast.”
Junji stared for a moment longer, her shock quickly turning into amusement. “Okay, we have to say something. There’s no way I’m letting this slide.”
“Junji—” Fluke began, but she was already marching toward the pair.
As Ling and Orm approached the school gates, still immersed in their conversation, Junji’s voice rang out behind them.
“Well, well, well,” she said loudly, making both girls turn in unison. “If it isn’t LingLing Sirilak Kwong and her new bestie.”
Ling blinked, her neutral expression slipping into mild annoyance as she caught sight of Junji. “Junji,” she said flatly.
Fluke jogged up behind her, waving casually. “Morning, Ling. Orm.”
Orm grinned, her usual energy unshaken by the interruption. “Oh hey, it’s you two!” She pointed at Junji, her grin widening. “You’re the one who called Ling a robot yesterday, right?”
Junji froze, her eyes widening. “Wait—she told you that?”
Orm laughed, leaning toward Junji conspiratorially. “Didn’t need to. It’s written all over your face.”
Fluke chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “She’s got you there.”
Junji groaned, recovering quickly with a smirk. “Alright, fine. But seriously, Ling, what’s going on here? You ditched us yesterday, and now you’re walking to school with your new sidekick like it’s no big deal?”
Ling sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Junji, please.”
“What?” Junji said, gesturing at Orm. “You’ve known her for, what, a day? And you’re already laughing and chatting like it’s some kind of teen drama.”
Orm raised her hand. “For the record, I’m the main character here, not a sidekick.”
Junji snorted, looking at Ling again. “Seriously, though, this is weird. You’re acting... different.”
Ling glared at her, her tone sharp. “It’s called being polite, Junji.”
“Polite?” Junji echoed with a grin. “Yeah, right. Since when do you laugh this much around anyone?”
“Since now, apparently,” Orm said, clearly enjoying the exchange.
Fluke smiled, trying to ease the tension. “I think it’s nice. Ling could use some new energy around her.”
Junji rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m watching you, Sethratanapong.”
Orm winked. “Happy to entertain.”
The first bell rang faintly in the distance, prompting a groan from Junji.
“Alright, fine. I’ll let you two get back to your little rom-com moment,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Fluke chuckled, patting Junji on the shoulder as they started toward their own classes. Ling and Orm watched them go, Orm still grinning.
“Your friends are fun,” Orm said after a beat, nudging Ling lightly.
Ling exhaled, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “They’re something, alright.”
As the second bell drew closer, they continued walking toward Orm’s first class, the earlier interruption doing little to dim the warmth of their conversation.
As they walked closer to Orm’s classroom, the hallways were alive with chatter and movement. Students gathered near lockers and leaned against the walls, their conversations punctuated by bursts of laughter.
Orm glanced at Ling, her expression amused. “You know, I already know where my classes are. You don’t have to walk me like I’m going to get lost.”
Ling gave her a sidelong look, her tone calm. “Just making sure you don’t wander into the wrong room and make friends with a janitor or something.”
Orm gasped dramatically, clutching the strap of her bag. “Wow, Sirilak. The faith you have in me is staggering.”
Ling’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Just calling it like I see it.”
“Uh-huh,” Orm replied, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.
As they approached the classroom door, a voice interrupted them.
“Ling!”
Both girls turned to see Prigkhing walking toward them, her usual confident stride making it clear she had no intention of slowing down. Her polished appearance and neatly styled hair contrasted with Orm’s relaxed, cautious energy.
Prigkhing’s attention was locked on Ling as she approached, her smile wide and eager. “Morning! I was hoping to talk to you for a second.”
Ling stiffened slightly, her expression shifting into something more guarded. “I’m kind of busy right now,” she said, her tone steady but firm.
Prigkhing’s gaze flicked to Orm for a brief moment before returning to Ling. “It’ll only take a minute. I wanted to—”
“I said I’m busy,” Ling interrupted, her voice sharpening just enough to make Prigkhing pause. She glanced at Orm, ignoring Prigkhing entirely. “You good here?”
Orm, who had been quietly observing the exchange, glanced between Ling and Prigkhing with a small, uncertain smile. “Uh, yeah, I’m good,” she said, her tone light but careful. “I can head in from here.”
She shifted her bag on her shoulder, her amber eyes flicking back to Ling as if checking whether everything was alright. The tension in the air wasn’t lost on her, but she wasn’t about to call it out.
Ling gave her a brief nod, her tone steady. “Alright. See you later.”
“See you,” Orm replied softly before slipping into her classroom, glancing back once as she crossed the threshold.
Ling turned back toward Prigkhing, her tone clipped. “I’ve got to get to class.”
“But—” Prigkhing began, only to be cut off again as Ling walked briskly down the hallway without waiting for a response.
From the other end of the hall, Junji and Fluke stood near the door of their classroom, watching the scene unfold.
“Okay, is it just me, or is Ling actually becoming interesting?” Junji said, her eyebrows raised in mock shock.
Fluke chuckled softly, spinning his basketball in one hand. “She’s always been interesting. She just doesn’t usually let people see it.”
Junji smirked, leaning against the wall as Ling approached. “Well, whatever’s going on, it’s fun to watch.”
Ling brushed past them, her expression neutral but her pace brisk. “Not now, Junji.”
Junji exchanged a look with Fluke, her grin widening. “Not now? Oh, this just keeps getting better.”
Fluke sighed, giving Junji a playful shove. “Leave her alone.”
As Ling slid into her seat in the classroom, she exhaled quietly, her gaze flicking briefly out the window. Orm’s cautious smile and teasing presence lingered in her mind longer than she cared to admit, but she forced herself to focus on the day ahead.
................................
Orm stepped into her classroom, scanning the room briefly before heading to an empty seat near the middle. The lively chatter of her classmates filled the air, their energy typical for a morning class. She adjusted her bag on the chair and pulled out her notebook, ready to settle into the day.
It wasn’t long before Prigkhing entered the room, her polished demeanor intact as always. Orm barely glanced her way, but she could feel the girl’s presence immediately, like a weight in the air.
Prigkhing made her way to a seat a couple of rows behind Orm, her gaze fixed on her with a sharpness that wasn’t easy to miss. Orm kept her focus on her notebook, but the tension was hard to ignore.
“Good morning, Orm,” Prigkhing said, her tone saccharine but carrying an edge.
Orm turned slightly in her seat, offering a polite smile. “Morning, Prigkhing.”
Prigkhing slid into her chair with practiced ease, her expression unreadable at first. But as she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, the faintest flicker of annoyance crossed her face.
“You and Ling seem pretty close already,” Prigkhing said, her voice casual but pointed. “I mean, she walked you all the way here, didn’t she?”
Orm blinked, caught off guard by the comment. “Uh, yeah. She’s just showing me around since I’m new,” she said, keeping her tone light.
Prigkhing’s smile tightened. “Right. How nice of her.”
Orm could feel the tension radiating from Prigkhing’s words, but she chose not to address it directly. Instead, she gave a small shrug. “She’s been really helpful. It’s been nice having someone to make the first few days easier.”
Prigkhing’s eyes narrowed slightly, though her smile remained. “I bet. Ling’s not usually the type to go out of her way for people. Must be something special about you.”
Orm tilted her head, sensing the shift in Prigkhing’s tone. It wasn’t just a comment—it was a challenge. “I don’t know about that,” she replied carefully. “She’s just been... really nice.”
“Really nice,” Prigkhing repeated, the edge in her voice becoming more pronounced. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as her gaze stayed locked on Orm. “Funny, I’ve been trying to get her attention for weeks, and she never seemed interested. But then you show up, and suddenly she’s walking you to class?”
Orm blinked, unsure how to respond. She could feel the weight of Prigkhing’s frustration, but she wasn’t sure if it was her place to address it—or if she even wanted to. “I guess I just got lucky,” Orm said, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Prigkhing let out a soft, humorless laugh, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah. Lucky.”
Before Orm could say anything else, a cheerful voice cut through the tension.
“Morning, Orm!”
Orm turned to see Ying approaching with her usual bright smile. The girl plopped down in the empty seat next to Orm without hesitation, her bag landing on the floor with a soft thud.
“Hey,” Orm greeted, her tone noticeably more relaxed as she welcomed the distraction.
Ying grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “How’s the second day going so far? Still surviving?”
“Barely,” Orm replied with a small laugh. “But I think I’m getting the hang of things.”
Prigkhing, still seated a few rows back, frowned slightly. She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, but said nothing. Her sharp gaze lingered on Orm and Ying, though it seemed neither noticed—nor cared.
“That’s the spirit,” Ying said, pulling out her notebook and placing it neatly on her desk. She gave Orm a quick glance and added, “If you ever need help with anything, just let me know. I remember my first week here was kind of overwhelming.”
Orm smiled, her shoulders easing slightly. “Thanks, Ying. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Ying continued chatting about the class and the morning’s events, Prigkhing’s presence seemed to fade into the background. She didn’t speak, but the subtle tension in her posture remained, her eyes darting between Orm and Ying as if measuring the interaction.
Ying, however, seemed completely unbothered by Prigkhing’s presence. She leaned closer to Orm, pointing to something in her notebook. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Thanaphat’s quizzes can be kind of tricky, but if you pay attention to the examples he gives in class, you’ll do fine. Just don’t rely too much on the textbook—it’s outdated.”
“Good to know,” Orm said, making a mental note.
Ying’s friendly energy filled the space, washing away the weight of Prigkhing’s earlier comments. For the first time that morning, Orm felt like she could breathe a little easier.
Prigkhing, meanwhile, tapped her pen against her notebook, her jaw tightening as the conversation between Orm and Ying carried on without her.
The morning unfolded with its usual rhythm, though for Orm, the campus still felt new and slightly overwhelming. After the tension with Prigkhing in her first class, she was glad to focus on the lesson and Ying’s helpful pointers. The steady hum of the classroom and the scratch of pens on paper became a welcome distraction from the glances she felt from behind her.
As the first class ended, the bell’s shrill ring filled the hallways, and students spilled out of classrooms in a chaotic flurry of conversation and motion. Orm packed up her things quickly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she joined the flow of people heading into the corridor.
Standing just outside the door was Ling, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed. Her dark eyes scanned the passing crowd briefly before landing on Orm. A slight flicker of relief crossed her gaze, subtle but noticeable if you were looking for it.
Her presence didn’t go unnoticed.
Ling was well-known across the campus—a star soccer player, quiet and aloof, someone people admired from a distance but rarely approached. It wasn’t just her skill on the field or her striking looks that drew attention; it was the air of unreachability she carried as if she existed in her own world.
Students passing by exchanged glances, their murmurs low but curious.
“Is that Ling? What’s she doing here?”
“She’s waiting for someone? That’s new.”
“Didn’t think she was the type to hang around outside classrooms…”
Despite the ripple of attention her presence caused, Ling remained completely unbothered. Her focus was steady, her posture relaxed as she waited, seemingly oblivious to the whispers around her.
When Orm stepped into the hallway, Ling straightened slightly, her gaze locking onto her immediately.
Orm hesitated for a fraction of a second, her brows lifting in slight surprise. Despite Ling’s earlier assurance about helping her, she hadn’t expected her to actually wait outside the classroom.
“Hey,” Orm said, her tone light, though her amber eyes carried a hint of curiosity.
Ling gave a small nod, pushing off the wall to fall into step beside her without a word.
The whispers around them grew quieter, but Orm caught the curious glances cast in their direction. Her lips quirked into a small, amused smile as she glanced at Ling. “Do you always cause this much of a scene just by standing somewhere?”
Ling raised an eyebrow, her tone calm. “Didn’t notice.”
Orm chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Right. Of course, you didn’t.”
Ling’s focus remained unshaken as they started walking toward Orm’s next class, her presence creating an invisible bubble that seemed to mute the noise of the hallway.
Not far behind, Junji and Fluke trailed at a casual distance, their conversation interrupted by the sight of Ling walking beside Orm.
“Look at her,” Junji whispered, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement. “She’s like a whole new person.”
Fluke chuckled, spinning his basketball idly. “She’s definitely... different around Orm.”
“Different?” Junji echoed, raising an eyebrow. “She’s downright domestic. Look at her! She’s practically escorting her like some kind of knight in shining armor.”
Fluke smirked, though his gaze lingered on Ling with quiet curiosity. “I think it’s nice. She’s usually so... distant.”
Junji’s grin widened as she leaned closer to Fluke. “Oh, this is definitely nice. It’s also hilarious. I mean, LingLing Sirilak Kwong waiting outside a classroom for someone? Who would’ve thought?”
Ahead of them, Orm and Ling continued walking. Ling occasionally glanced around, her gaze scanning the crowd with practiced ease before settling back on Orm. Meanwhile, Orm walked with a slight bounce in her step, her earlier nervousness from the day gradually melting away.
As they neared Orm’s next classroom, the familiar figure of Prigkhing appeared from around the corner, her polished uniform and confident stride cutting through the flow of students. Her gaze swept over the hallway, landing on Ling and Orm walking together.
Prigkhing approached quickly, her smile poised but with a sharpness that couldn’t be missed. She didn’t hesitate as she slid into step beside them, her tone light but laced with undertones.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got quite the personal escort, Orm,” Prigkhing said, her eyes flicking briefly to Ling before settling on Orm.
Orm blinked at her tone, the faintest trace of irritation flickering in her expression. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Super helpful when you’re new,” she replied, her voice even but carrying a subtle edge of its own.
Prigkhing’s smile didn’t falter, though her gaze lingered a second longer on Orm, assessing her. “Not everyone gets that kind of attention. Guess you’re just lucky.”
Orm tilted her head, her amber eyes narrowing slightly. “Guess so,” she said lightly. “I’d say it’s better than wasting time keeping track of what other people are doing.”
Ling’s pace didn’t slow, but her gaze briefly flicked toward Prigkhing, her tone calm but firm as she said, “Prigkhing, don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Prigkhing turned her attention to Ling, her smile thinning slightly. “Just saying hi. No harm in that.”
Ling didn’t respond, her focus already shifting back to Orm. “You’re good here?” she asked, her tone softening slightly.
Orm nodded, her irritation with Prigkhing fading as she glanced at Ling. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for walking me.”
“See you later,” Ling said with a small nod before turning and heading off, her strides calm but purposeful.
Prigkhing lingered for a moment longer, her expression unreadable as she watched Ling walk away. She turned back to Orm, her tone light but noticeably tighter. “Well, enjoy your day.”
Orm smiled sweetly, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Oh, I will. Thanks for the warm welcome.”
Prigkhing didn’t reply, simply walking off with clipped steps. Orm sighed quietly as she stepped into her classroom, glad to leave the interaction behind.
...............................................................
The cafeteria buzzed with energy, the hum of voices and the clatter of trays filling the large space. Orm stood near the entrance, scanning the rows of tables for a familiar face. Her shoulders felt tense, and a faint wave of uncertainty washed over her. The whirlwind of the morning—new faces, new routines, and the encounter with Prigkhing—lingered in her mind, amplifying the bustling noise of the cafeteria. For a moment, the chaotic atmosphere made her pause to steady herself.
She spotted Ying waving at her from a table near the windows, her bright smile immediately easing some of the unease from earlier. Orm made her way over, sliding her tray onto the table as she sat down.
“Hey! How’s it going?” Ying asked, her tone cheerful as she popped a grape into her mouth.
Orm gave her a small smile. “Not bad. Just... a lot to take in, you know?”
“Totally get it,” Ying said, nodding sympathetically. “First week’s always the hardest. But hey, you’re doing great. I mean, you’ve already got Ling walking you to class. That’s some next-level VIP treatment.”
Orm laughed softly, though her cheeks warmed slightly. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. She’s just... helping out, I guess.”
Ying leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret. “You’ve got to understand, Ling is, like, a campus celebrity. She scored the winning goal at last year’s championship game, and people still talk about it. She’s a star soccer player, doesn’t talk much to anyone outside her circle, and has this mysterious vibe going on. People either want to be her or date her, but she doesn’t give most of them the time of day.””
Orm blinked, surprised. “Really? She doesn’t seem like that at all. She’s been... nice.”
Her mind briefly replayed the moment they met the day before. Orm had been busy unpacking in her room, sorting through boxes, and trying to bring some semblance of order to the chaos. But the monotony quickly got to her, and she decided to head out into the backyard, hoping for a change of scenery. The afternoon air carried the fresh scent of rain, and droplets still clung to the leaves as Orm stepped outside into the backyard, seeking a break from unpacking. Her gaze wandered, taking in the damp grass and the soft glow of sunlight breaking through the clouds. That’s when she noticed her neighbor—a girl with dark eyes, leaning against her windowsill, her expression distant and pensive as she stared directly at Orm.
Ling’s gaze was steady, though it carried a hint of something Orm couldn’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or even intrigue. The moment felt almost surreal as if time had slowed under the spell of the still-damp afternoon. Orm hesitated, unsure whether to say anything, but her natural boldness won out.
“Hey! I’m Orm; we just moved here!” she called out cheerfully, her voice breaking through the stillness. Ling’s gaze shifted to her, her expression initially surprised, but she didn’t look away. There was something unspoken in that moment—a mutual curiosity.
Ling’s response was cautious, almost reluctant. “Uh, hello... um... I’m Ling. Are you Aunty Koy’s daughter?”
Orm grinned, stepping closer to the wooden fence that divided their yards. “Oh, you’ve met my mom? Yeah, I’m her daughter, haha!” she said, her tone light and cheerful.
Ling, still leaning against her windowsill, tilted her head slightly. “Have you finished unpacking yet?” she asked, her voice calm but curious. “I heard from Aunty Koy that you still have some things left to sort out.”
Orm let out an exaggerated sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, but honestly, I’m already bored! I want to see what’s out there!” Her eyes lit up with sudden excitement. “Besides, I can always unpack later. Oh! How about you show me the neighborhood? You’ve lived here long enough to know all the hidden spots, right? Let’s go explore!”
Ling hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced at the damp ground outside. The idea didn’t seem entirely appealing, but Orm’s enthusiasm was infectious. With a small sigh of resignation, she nodded. “Okay. Let me change quickly, and I’ll meet you out front.”
Orm’s face brightened, her grin widening. “Alright! I’ll catch you in a little while!” she called, her voice bubbling with excitement as she turned to head back into her house.
Inside, the comforting aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted her, and she found her mom, Koy, in the kitchen unpacking some dishes.
“Mama, I’m heading out to explore the neighborhood,” Orm announced cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe.
Koy turned, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Already making plans, are we? That was fast. Who’s your tour guide?”
Orm hesitated for a split second before admitting, “Uh, Ling? Our neighbor. She offered to show me around.”
Her mom’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “Ling? The quiet girl with the intense eyes? My, my, Orm. Making friends already?” she said, her tone playful.
“It’s not like that, Mom,” Orm replied, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “She was just being nice.”
“Nice or not, she’s a good one to know,” Aunty Koy said with a wink. “Alright, go have fun. Just don’t forget where home is.”
“Got it, Mom,” Orm replied with a grin. Her mom’s laughter followed her as she stepped outside, her heart a little lighter than before.
Despite their differences, Orm felt herself growing more at ease with each step. Ling’s calm presence acted as a grounding force, making Orm feel unexpectedly comfortable. By the time they returned, the initial awkwardness of meeting a new neighbor had melted away, replaced by an odd but genuine sense of familiarity. It was as though Ling’s reserved nature complemented Orm’s openness, creating a balance neither of them had anticipated.
Orm shook off the memory and returned her focus to Ying, her smile softening. “Yeah, she’s been nice.”
“Exactly! That’s why everyone’s so surprised,” Ying said with a grin. “Ling being nice to someone new? Walking them to class? That’s headline news.”
Before Orm could reply, the cafeteria grew noticeably quieter, a ripple of attention shifting toward the doors. The hum of voices dropped into hushed murmurs, a mix of curiosity and awe spreading across the room. Heads turned almost in unison, and an electric tension hung in the air as if everyone was holding their breath to see who had just entered. Orm glanced up to see Ling entering with her usual calm demeanor, flanked by Junji and Fluke.
Ling carried her tray with both hands as she surveyed the room. Her dark eyes scanned the tables briefly before landing on Orm. A faint nod passed between them, a silent acknowledgment that didn’t go unnoticed by Junji, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.
“You’re not seriously thinking about sitting over there, are you?” Junji teased, nudging Ling with her elbow.
Ling shrugged, her tone flat. “Why not?”
Fluke chuckled softly. “I think you’re breaking some kind of social rule, Kwong.”
Ignoring them, Ling started walking toward Orm’s table, her stride steady and deliberate. Junji and Fluke exchanged a look before following, their curiosity clearly piqued.
As Ling reached the table, Ying’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh, hey, Ling!” she said, her voice a mix of enthusiasm and disbelief.
Orm glanced between Ling and Ying, raising an eyebrow. “You two know each other?”
“Not really,” Ying admitted, grinning. “But everyone knows Ling. She’s like a school legend or something.”
Ling set her tray down across from Orm, her expression neutral but her presence commanding. “Mind if we sit here?”
Orm smirked faintly, gesturing to the empty seats. “Be my guest.”
As Ling took a seat, Junji plopped down beside her, her mischievous grin firmly in place. “Well, this is unexpected. Kwong, branching out from your usual crowd?” What’s next, starting a fan club?”
Fluke rolled his eyes as he sat next to Junji. “Don’t mind her. She’s been like this all day.”
Ying chuckled, leaning toward Orm. “Your new friend group’s... interesting.”
Orm laughed softly, though her attention lingered on Ling, taking in the calm confidence she exuded. Ling’s dark eyes, sharp and observant, carried a quiet strength that made Orm feel inexplicably safe as if nothing could disrupt the bubble of calm surrounding her. She admired how effortlessly Ling handled Junji’s teasing and the curious stares from nearby tables, brushing them off with a grace that seemed second nature.
Ling had an undeniable grounding presence that filled the room with her calm confidence. She sat unflinchingly, as if she belonged in every space she entered. Whenever Ling was nearby, Orm felt enveloped in a comforting aura, a surprising warmth that sparked joy she hadn't felt in years. The constant unease that usually clung to her as a new student began to fade away, replaced by a delightful lightness that fluttered inside her. It was as if the heavy burden of uncertainty had lifted, allowing Orm to fully embrace the laughter and camaraderie that flourished in Ling's company.
Prigkhing’s arrival at the cafeteria didn’t go unnoticed either. She entered with a group of her friends, her sharp eyes immediately landing on Orm’s table. Her expression tightened briefly before she plastered on a smile, her laughter ringing out a little too loudly as she walked to a table on the other side of the room.
Orm caught the momentary flicker of annoyance in Prigkhing’s gaze, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly before she masked it with a too-bright smile. It was subtle, but it hinted at something more—a lingering frustration or jealousy that made Orm wonder just how far this tension might go. For a second, Orm thought about saying something, but she quickly decided against it, turning her focus back to the lively conversation at her table instead.
For the first time that day, the tension seemed to fade completely, replaced by the easy rhythm of shared laughter and the occasional sarcastic quip.
..........................................................................
The final bell of the day rang, signaling the end of the school week. The hallways were filled with the chaotic energy of students eager to escape into their weekend plans. Voices echoed loudly, laughter mixed with shouts, and lockers slammed shut as the crowd surged toward the exits. It was Friday, and the usual sense of order had given way to barely contained excitement.
Orm and Ying stepped out of their physics class together, weaving through the bustling crowd. Orm, as usual, had managed to accumulate an armful of books, her bag stuffed to capacity. She juggled the pile awkwardly, trying to keep her balance while maneuvering through the chaotic hallway.
“You’re going to drop something,” Ying said with a laugh, reaching out to steady one of the wobbling books.
“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” Orm replied, though her strained tone betrayed her struggle.
Before she could say anything more, a familiar figure appeared beside her. Ling, her dark eyes sharp but calm amidst the chaos, wordlessly took the books from Orm’s arms without so much as a glance.
“What—” Orm started, blinking in surprise.
“You’re carrying too much,” Ling said simply, her tone matter-of-fact as she adjusted the books under one arm. “Where are we going?”
Orm stared at her for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process what had just happened. Ying grinned, clearly amused.
“I guess Ling’s your personal porter now,” Ying teased.
“Apparently,” Orm muttered, though she couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her lips. “We’re heading to the front gate.”
Ling glanced at the books in her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you still carrying so much? You have a locker now.”
Orm sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “These are the things I need to catch up on. I want to take them home so I can actually go through them.”
Ling shrugged slightly, her expression calm. “Suit yourself. Just don’t overdo it.”
As they walked through the crowded hallway, the usual chaos of students bustling to leave for the weekend surrounded them. Orm couldn’t help but notice the glances Ling was drawing. Whispers floated through the air as students noticed the aloof soccer star acting out of character once again. Ling—known for her quiet, unapproachable demeanor—was now patiently helping someone carry books. It wasn’t just unexpected; it was downright puzzling.
“Is that Ling?” one student murmured.
“Why’s she waiting around?” another added, their tone a mix of confusion and awe.
Ling, however, seemed completely unaffected by the attention. Her stride remained steady, her focus entirely on leading Orm through the crowd. Orm followed, still slightly stunned but also oddly comforted by Ling’s quiet presence.
As they stepped outside, the warm afternoon sun bathed the campus in a golden glow, the chatter of students spilling into the open air. Orm glanced at Ling, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You looked like you were going to drop everything,” Ling replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Orm laughed lightly, the tension of the day melting away. “You’re pretty good at this whole knight-in-shining-armor thing.”
Ling raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
“Thanks,” Orm said finally, glancing at Ling. Her voice was soft but genuine. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You looked like you were going to drop everything,” Ling replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
Orm laughed lightly, the tension of the day melting away. “You’re pretty good at this whole knight-in-shining-armor thing.”
Ling raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
As they reached the gate, Ying waved goodbye with a cheer, “See you on Monday!” and headed toward her bus. Orm lingered momentarily, watching the lively chaos of students dispersing into the weekend before returning to Ling.
“You’re heading home?” Orm asked, noticing the lack of any urgency in Ling’s demeanor.
Ling nodded, adjusting the books she still carried for Orm. “Yeah. No practice today. It’s Friday.”
Before Orm could respond, Junji’s voice rang out from nearby. “Ling! Finally found you!”
Orm glanced over to see Junji and Fluke walking toward them, both grinning in that mischievous way that only close friends could pull off. Junji waved dramatically as they approached. “We’re heading to the arcades. You in?”
Ling’s expression remained neutral, but the faintest hint of annoyance flickered across her features. “Not today,” she said flatly.
“Oh, come on,” Junji protested, stepping closer. “You’ve been ditching us all week. Don’t make us beg.”
Fluke chuckled, his tone light. “It’ll be fun. A good way to kick off the weekend.”
Ling adjusted the books under her arm, her gaze briefly shifting to Orm before she replied to Junji. “I can’t. I already made plans with Orm.”
Junji blinked, momentarily thrown off. “Wait, what?”
Fluke raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Seriously? Plans with Orm? Since when?”
Ling’s tone remained calm and final. “Since now.”
Orm blinked, clearly surprised by Ling’s answer. Her eyebrows lifted, and her lips parted slightly as she processed what had just happened. It wasn’t what she had expected, but it left her feeling unexpectedly warm—a mix of amusement and curiosity about what exactly Ling had planned. Around them, students nearby exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued by the unusual scene.
“Unbelievable. Kwong, you’re full of surprises lately,” Junji groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air.
Fluke chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, you win. Guess we’ll catch you later.”
Ling gave them a small nod, her focus returning to Orm. “Ready?” she asked simply.
Orm, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and surprise, nodded quickly. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Junji and Fluke exchanged a look, their curiosity evident, but neither pressed further as they waved goodbye and headed off. Ling and Orm walked toward the gate, the lively chaos of students dispersing around them. Ling’s calm demeanor seemed even more out of place amidst the noisy, energetic atmosphere, drawing subtle glances from others as they passed. Orm noticed the attention but said nothing, instead focusing on the steady presence walking beside her.
Orm studied Ling for a long moment, her gaze lingering on the girl walking calmly beside her. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, wrapping Ling’s face in a warm golden glow that highlighted the sharp contours of her features. This light amplified the quiet intensity of her dark, expressive eyes, which seemed to hold a depth full of untold stories. There was a steady, unwavering quality to Ling’s expression that Orm found utterly captivating—a quiet confidence that seemed untouched by the chaos of their busy day.
Ling wasn't the kind of person Orm would have expected to strike up a conversation with. At first glance, she appeared aloof, almost ethereal, as if she lived in a world distinctly separate from Orm’s more lively one. Yet, here they were, unexpected companions, walking side by side down a winding path.
What surprised Orm the most wasn’t just the ease with which they navigated this new companionship, but the genuine pleasure she found in the comforting silence wrapping around them. Ling didn’t ask for anything—not words, not explanations, nor the usual small talk that often fills the gaps between acquaintances. This was a rare experience for Orm, who usually felt a constant urge to fill every pause with her chatter. In Ling’s presence, however, there was a soothing calmness—a welcoming sense of space that allowed Orm to breathe freely. It felt as if Ling was giving her permission to just be herself, without a hint of judgment or expectation. That profound acceptance made everything feel perfectly okay.
Ling moved through the world with an effortless grace, as if she belonged not just in that moment but in every place she chose to be. Orm felt an unexpected grounding in Ling's presence; it was a quiet reassurance that pushed the noise and unpredictability of the day into the background, rendering them insignificant. The more she observed Ling, the more she recognized the delight that had begun to blossom since their paths crossed. Ling's seemingly reserved nature, mixed with her subtle humor, beautifully balanced Orm’s own spirited personality. Together, they created a rhythm that felt surprisingly harmonious and delightfully contrasting.
In that peaceful moment, as the sun dipped closer to the horizon and cast elongated shadows on the ground, Orm couldn’t help but feel a warm wave of gratitude swell within her. It was for the connection that was beginning to form between them—one that turned the unfamiliar landscape of her life into something that increasingly felt like home.
“Plans?” Orm asked with a playful tone, a teasing grin on her face. “Is that your sneaky way of getting out of carrying all these books by yourself?”
Ling shrugged, a hint of mischief playing at her lips. “Maybe.”
Orm chuckled softly, feeling the stress of the day fade away as they walked down the sunlit street. Ling’s steady presence made her feel lighter than she had all week.
After a beat of silence, Orm looked over at Ling, curiosity shining in her eyes. “So, what exactly are these ‘plans’ you have in mind for us?” she asked, still teasing but genuinely interested.
Ling shot her a sideways glance, her smirk getting a little bigger. “The Café Haven. You owe me a snack.”
Orm blinked, a bit surprised, before breaking into a big smile. “Seriously? You’re cashing that in already?”
“Why wait?” Ling shot back, her tone dry but her eyes sparkling with humor. Orm couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a warmth spread inside her at the easy flow of their banter. It felt so natural like this back-and-forth had always been a part of their friendship. Ling’s humor wasn’t over-the-top; it blended perfectly into the growing bond between them. It made Orm feel comfortable like she didn’t have to fill every quiet moment with chatter.
With a laugh, Orm adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Fine. But don’t expect me to go easy on the menu. If I’m buying, you’re trying something new.”
Ling raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, keeping her pace steady as they strolled along. After a moment, Ling’s expression softened, and she mumbled, almost too quietly to catch, “Just wanted to spend time with you.”
Orm’s brows furrowed, her interest piqued. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Ling replied quickly, her voice steady, but cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment.
Orm’s grin turned playful as she watched Ling’s reaction. “Really? That didn’t sound like nothing. Come on, what did you say?”
Ling kept her focus forward, her lips pressing into a tight line as her ears turned redder. “I said nothing. Don’t overthink it.”
Orm laughed softly, feeling a nice flutter in her chest at how uncharacteristically flustered Ling was. For now, she decided to let it go. The soft afternoon light dipped over the neighborhood, the sounds of distant chatter and the occasional car passing by creating a relaxed backdrop for their conversation. Finally, the end of the school week didn’t feel like a drag; it felt like the start of something exciting.