Until Monday
The car ride was silent, but not cold.
Lingling drove with both hands on the wheel, face tight with worry. Orm sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes flicking between Ling and the soft lights of passing streets.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into a small lot beside a plain, older apartment building—well-kept but modest. Orm’s brow furrowed slightly. It felt so far from the world of Friday night games and school parties.
Ling parked. Took a breath. “You can still wait here.”
Orm was already unbuckling. “I’m not.”
The apartment was on the second floor, small but spotless.
Cream walls. Grey couch. A compact kitchen lined with neatly organized dishes. No clutter. No chaos. Every surface clean, every object chosen.
There were soft touches—drawings pinned to the fridge, a pair of tiny soccer cleats by the door, a folded blue blanket draped carefully over the arm of the couch.
This was home.
Ling dropped her keys into a bowl and slipped off her shoes.
Nok met them at the door. “He just fell asleep again. I gave him a sponge bath, the fever’s not too high. He keeps asking for you.”
“Thank you,” Ling said, already moving toward the hallway.
Orm stood still, taking it all in.
It was… quiet.
Sacred, somehow.
Nok looked over at her with a knowing smile. “You’re the first girl she’s ever brought here.”
Orm’s chest tightened. “Oh. I didn’t even know she had a brother.”
Nok nodded. “Most people don’t. Ling’s good at protecting what matters.”
Ling stood beside a small twin bed where a boy—no more than seven or eight—was curled under a soft blue blanket. His cheeks were flushed, little brow furrowed even in sleep.
Ling knelt down beside him, brushing his hair gently off his face, whispering something Orm couldn’t hear.
Her whole posture changed.
No swagger. No guard. No performance.
Just… love.
Orm watched from the doorway, something stirring deep in her chest.
Ling pressed a kiss to Leo’s temple, adjusted the blanket, then finally stood. She turned slowly, surprised to see Orm still watching.
“I thought you’d be in the living room.”
“I couldn’t move.”
Ling blinked. “Why?”
Orm’s voice was barely a whisper. “Because I didn’t know how beautiful you really are until just now.”
Ling looked away, shaking her head, overwhelmed.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“I’m not saying it because I have to,” Orm said, stepping into the room now. “I’m saying it because I mean it.”
She looked around. “You built all of this. For him.”
Ling nodded. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“But you did it,” Orm said. “And you still showed up for practice, for school, for the team. You still kissed me like I was the only person you wanted.”
Ling’s eyes shimmered. “You are.”
Orm stepped closer.
“And I know now,” she whispered, “why I fell for you.”
Ling’s breath caught.
Orm reached up, cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye.
“You’re not just a star on the field,” she said. “You’re the whole sky.”
Ling’s lips trembled.
And when Orm leaned in—
Soft.
Slow.
Certain.
Ling met her halfway.
It started with silence.
Ling had changed into a soft black tee and sweatpants, barefoot and quiet as she brought out two mugs of tea, handing one to Orm on the couch.
The lights were low. The streetlight outside filtered in just enough to kiss the edge of Orm’s cheekbones. She looked so out of place here—in this small, clean space—but so right, too.
They sat close.
Not touching yet.
But the space between them pulsed.
“Can I ask you something?” Ling said, breaking the silence.
Orm nodded, fingers wrapped around her mug. “Anything.”
“Why did you run?”
Orm stared into her cup for a long moment. Then—quietly, “Because I hated the way I felt watching you dance with someone else. I hated that I let myself believe you wanted me, and then…”
“I did,” Ling said. “I do.”
Orm looked at her.
“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous,” Ling added, voice low. “I was just… stupid. I didn’t know how to stand still when you were smiling at someone else.”
Orm laughed under her breath. “We’re both so good at pretending we don’t care.”
Ling leaned in, resting her arm across the back of the couch, close enough that their knees touched. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
A beat.
Then Orm looked up, eyes soft and open. “Can I tell you something too?”
Ling nodded.
“I’ve always hated football players,” Orm whispered, lips twitching. “But I never hated you.”
Ling smirked. “You glared at me like I stole your parking spot for six months straight.”
“I know,” Orm said, laughing gently. “I thought it was safe to hate you. I thought it would protect me.”
“And now?”
Orm’s voice softened into something that almost trembled. “Now you’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not alone.”
Ling’s heart cracked.
She set her mug down.
And without a word, pulled Orm gently into her arms.
They stayed there. Wrapped in each other. A tangle of warmth and breath and finally.
Their bodies didn’t move. But their walls crumbled.
“I like this,” Orm whispered, head tucked under Ling’s chin.
“Me too,” Ling replied. “I don’t want the night to end.”
They didn’t hear the soft patter of small feet until the hallway light flicked on.
A tiny voice murmured sleepily, “P’Ling?”
Ling turned, startled—but gentle.
Leo stood there, clutching his stuffed tiger, blanket dragging behind him, eyes half-lidded with fever sleep.
“I had a dream you left,” he said, padding toward her.
“I’m here,” Ling said softly, reaching out.
But Leo didn’t come to her.
He came to Orm.
He stared up at her—wide eyes, messy hair, and a voice full of honest, childlike wonder.
“Are you the woman my sister smiles to on the phone?”
Silence.
Orm blinked, stunned.
Ling’s breath caught.
Leo rubbed one eye. “She always smiles when she talks to you. She doesn’t smile at her phone for anyone else.”
Orm looked at Ling.
And Ling was glowing. Embarrassed. Blushing. Beaming.
She whispered, “Leo…”
But Leo just shrugged, turned, and crawled into Ling’s lap, curling against her like he always did when he was sick.
Orm reached over, smoothing a hand through his hair without thinking.
And Leo—already half asleep—sighed, “You can stay if you want. I like you.”
Orm smiled.
And Ling? Ling fell completely in love.
The quiet settled in like a blanket.
The TV was off. The lights dim.
Only the faint hum of the fridge and the soft, steady breathing of three hearts filled the space.
Ling leaned back against the couch cushions, one arm wrapped around Leo’s small, sleeping form curled to her chest. His feverish weight didn’t bother her. She was used to it. This was normal. This was her life.
But tonight—Orm was there.
Curled into her other side, head resting on Ling’s shoulder, one hand laid gently over her ribs like it belonged there. Her eyes were closed now, breath warm against Ling’s neck.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t need to.
Because for the first time in forever, Ling felt held.
Not just physically—but emotionally. Like someone saw her. All of her.
Not the hero. Not the captain. Not the name they screamed on game night.
Just Ling.
And she was still wanted.
Orm shifted slightly in her sleep, her fingers brushing softly against Ling’s hand where it held Leo’s blanket in place.
Ling smiled, eyes heavy now, body giving in.
The weight of the night, the game, the party, the kiss, the fear, the kiss again—all of it melted beneath this one truth:
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Not when Orm was here.
Not when Leo whispered the truth out loud.
Not when the night finally gave them this.
She closed her eyes.
And in a small, silent apartment filled with unspoken promises—
They slept. Together. Warm. Safe.
_______
The sun rose slowly through the gauzy curtains.
Golden light painted the walls with softness, casting long, sleepy shadows across the small living room.
The couch was quiet.
Three bodies tangled together in a nest of warmth and blankets.
Leo woke first.
His little eyes blinked open, still heavy with sleep. He stirred, moving his stuffed tiger just enough to realize—his head was on his sister’s chest… and another warm body was beside them.
He turned.
Orm.
Her face was relaxed in sleep, her lashes soft against her cheek, her arm draped protectively over both of them. She smelled like vanilla and something calm.
Leo stared.
For a moment, he just… watched her.This was the girl his sister smiled at on the phone.
The one she said she didn’t talk about, but always talked about.
Orm stirred.
Her nose scrunched. Her brows pulled together. She shifted, adjusting her weight.
And then—
Her eyes opened. She blinked once. Twice.
And her gaze landed on Leo, wide-awake and staring at her like he was watching the sun rise.
They just looked at each other.
Neither moved.
Then Leo whispered, “You snore a little.”
Orm blinked, caught off guard. “I… what?”
Ling mumbled in her sleep, shifting slightly beneath them but not waking. Leo whispered again, with the bluntness only children had, “You’re really pretty up close.”
Orm’s mouth twitched.
“And I’m glad you stayed too, with me and my sister” he added.
She swallowed, her voice still hoarse from sleep. “I’m glad I did too.”
There was silence.
Then Leo whispered, “Is it okay if I hug you?”
Orm blinked again.
Then nodded.
And Leo—without hesitation—curled into her side, tiny arms slipping under hers, his little head pressing just beneath her collarbone.
She wrapped her arm around him instinctively, the lump in her throat forming faster than she could swallow it.
Across the couch, Ling stirred.
Her eyes blinked open.
And the first thing she saw?
Her world.
Leo in Orm’s arms.
Orm looking at her with the softest, sleepiest, most reverent eyes she had ever seen.
Ling’s chest swelled.
And for the first time in her life— She didn’t feel like she was carrying everything alone.
The apartment was filled with the smell of toast, eggs, and a little too much syrup.
Leo sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, giggling while Ling flipped pancakes. She wore Orm’s hoodie now—big on her, sleeves falling past her wrists—and every time Orm looked at her, something fluttered low in her chest.
Orm leaned against the fridge, a mug of coffee in her hands. “You cook?”
Ling glanced over her shoulder. “I survive.”
“Liar,” Orm smirked. “This smells like heaven.”
Leo raised a syrup-sticky hand. “She makes the best pancakes in the world. Even better than school breakfast day.”
Orm grinned. “High praise.”
Ling placed a plate in front of her with a quiet little smile. “Try before you fall in love.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Orm said before she could stop herself.
Ling froze.
Leo didn’t notice—he was too busy trying to stack four pancakes at once.
But Ling met Orm’s gaze, something soft and afraid in her eyes.
And Orm didn’t look away.
Not until—her phone buzzed.
She reached for it without thinking, screen lighting up with a single line:
Mom: Where are you? The car picks us up at 4. You’re expected tonight. Wear the Chanel dress.
Orm’s smile faltered.
Just slightly.
Ling noticed.
Orm stared at the message for a second longer, then locked the screen and set the phone down.
Ling dried her hands on a dish towel. “You okay?”
Orm nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just my mom.”
Ling tilted her head. “Something important?”
Orm tried to shrug it off. “She wants me home early. There’s this family event tonight. Some dinner. Probably press.”
“Sounds fancy.”
Orm laughed, but it was dry. “That’s one word for it.”
Ling didn’t press.
But something shifted.
She looked down at her small kitchen. At her chipped mug.
Orm saw it in her eyes.
Ling hadn’t moved. But a wall—thin, invisible—had just started to rise again.
Orm set her mug down gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin this.”
“You didn’t,” Ling said quickly. “It’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t last forever.”
Orm stepped closer. “Don’t say that.”
Ling smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s okay. We come from different worlds.”
Orm reached out, gently brushing her fingers over Ling’s wrist. “I don’t want to leave yours.”
Ling looked down at where their skin touched. “But you will. You don’t belong here”
Not accusing. Not angry.
Just true.
Orm swallowed.
“I’ll come back,” she said softly.
Ling nodded. “Yes I know.”
And that was the thing—she did know. Because people always left. The difference now was... Orm didn’t want to.
Orm stood by the door, her coat folded over one arm, phone and car keys in hand. Her ride was waiting downstairs—most likely a sleek black car, polished and quiet, another thing that didn’t quite fit into the warmth of this home.
Leo reached for her, and Orm crouched to meet him.
He wrapped his arms around her neck without hesitation, little fingers curling into her hair.
“Will you come back?” he asked, voice soft.
Orm hugged him tight. “Of course I will.”
“When?”
She smiled against his cheek. “Soon. Really soon. Maybe I’ll even bring pancakes next time.”
Leo grinned. “Only if they’re chocolate chip.”
“It’s a deal.”
She pulled back, smoothing his messy hair, her chest tight in a way she couldn’t explain. Something in her wanted to stay. Just one more hour. One more moment.
But she stood.
And Ling was already holding the door open, waiting.
They walked out together, Orm’s steps slower now.
The hallway was quiet.
Ling held the doorframe with one hand, the other stuffed deep in the pocket of her hoodie.
She looked tired again—not from the night, but from the weight of letting someone in.
And now watching her leave.
Orm saw it. The uncertainty.
And she wanted to ask: Do you want me to stay?
But she didn’t.
Because Ling wouldn’t ask her to choose.
She never would.
So instead, Orm smiled gently. “I’ll see you Monday.”
Ling nodded. “Yeah.”
A beat.
Then Orm leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to Ling’s cheek. “Thank you… for letting me see this part of you.”
Ling blinked. “You didn’t run.”
“No,” Orm whispered. “I didn’t.”
She pulled back, her fingers brushing Ling’s hand, and then—
She walked down the stairs.
Ling stayed by the door.
Watching. Wanting. Waiting.
The ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers and gold accents. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne. Soft jazz played under the hum of networking and polite laughter.
Orm stood near the long table of appetizers, wearing the Chanel dress her mother picked. Elegant. Off-the-shoulder. Deliberate.
She looked stunning.
But inside?
She felt completely wrong.
All night, people had greeted her with fake smiles, compliments about her family, questions about her modeling work, school, scholarships, interviews.
None of it felt real.
All she wanted was to be on a couch, tangled in warmth, holding someone who made the world quiet.
And that person wasn’t here.
Her phone buzzed in her purse.
She didn’t look at it.
She didn’t need to.
She knew who wasn’t texting her.
He found her near the bar.
“Orm Kornnaphat,” he said smoothly. “Still the prettiest girl in every room.”
She turned slowly, polite smile in place. “Ryan.”
He was tall. Clean-cut. From a family like hers. They’d known each other since childhood events and charity galas. Her mother always said he’d make a great match.
He leaned in, too close. “No date tonight?”
“I’m not here for that.”
“Shame.” He sipped his drink. “Some of us were hoping you’d finally say yes.”
“Still a no,” Orm said gently, stepping back.
Click.
Flash.
She saw the cameras too late.
Paparazzi.
Event photographers.
Snapping at the angle—where she looked soft and he looked possessive.
Ryan smirked. “You don’t have to play hard to get, you know.”
“I’m not playing,” Orm said, her tone sharper now.
He stepped in again, voice lower. “Come on. It’s just a party. You’re single, right?”
Orm stiffened.
Then—quietly but firmly—“There’s someone in my heart already.”
Ryan blinked. “Oh?”
She looked him dead in the eye. “And you’re not her.”
And she just left her spot, finding a quick exit to this nightmare.
Back in the car, Orm pulled out her phone. Notifications exploded.
Instagram Stories. Twitter. Facebook posts.
Pictures of her and Ryan—one in particular, where he leaned in and she was mid-blink, looking startled.
The caption?
New power couple? 👀🔥 Orm & Ryan spotted cozy at tonight’s gala. #GossipQueen #EliteMatches
Orm stared at it.
Her heart sank.
Because she knew who would see it.
And she knew how it would look.
Orm stared at the screen, frozen.
And all she could think was—
Ling.
Ling seeing it. Ling hearing the lies before she could speak the truth. Ling believing it.
Her fingers trembled.
She opened her messages. Scrolled to Ling’s name. Hovered.
Then locked her phone.
She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to say this isn’t real. Didn’t know if Ling would even want to hear it. She looked out the window, the city lights blurring behind glass.
Her reflection stared back at her.
A stranger.
And the girl in her oversized hoodie who made pancakes with her brother, who whispered "I like this" into her shoulder?
Gone.
Leo had finally fallen asleep again, this time curled under a blanket on the couch. The quiet hum of a cartoon still played on the screen, turned low. The apartment smelled faintly of syrup and shampoo.
Ling stood in the kitchen, scrolling absently through her phone as she sipped cold tea.
And then—
She saw it.
#OrmAndRyan
Her thumb froze.
She clicked.
Photos.
Flashes.
Orm in a Chanel dress.
Ryan in a tailored tux.
Leaning in. Laughing. Smiling.
And one picture—one terrible, perfect angle—where it looked like he was whispering in her ear, and she was smiling back.
Ling’s chest caved in.
Milk’s text popped up seconds later.
MILK 🐮:
girl… are you seeing this??
Tell me this is fake.
please tell me it’s fake.
Junji followed.
JUNJI 💜:
this better be a PR stunt bc if that’s real?? I’m flipping a table.
Ling didn’t reply.
She just stared at the screen.
Her face blank.
Her stomach hollow.
Ryan. Ryan.
The one who strutted through the halls with his cleats over his shoulder, who had a new girl every month, who Ling had to beat at every inter-school event just to prove she belonged on the same level.
And now? He was with her?
The same Orm who said, “There’s someone in my heart already.”
Was that about Ryan?
Or had she lied?
Ling locked her phone, her hand trembling.
She stared at the wall, the low glow of the living room dancing on her face.
And the hurt?
It was quiet.
Heavy.
It didn’t scream.
It just sat there, right in the middle of her chest, like betrayal.