Beyond the Bleachers

The apartment was still.

Soft light filtered through the curtains, pale and golden, casting delicate stripes across the living room floor. The world outside was just waking up — cars passing, birds calling from some faraway rooftop.

But in here?

It was perfect silence.

Ling stirred slowly, her body warm and wrapped in another.

Orm.

Her head rested right against Ling’s chest, lips parted, hair a dark wave across the pillow and Ling’s hoodie. One hand was still clutching the edge of Ling’s shirt, like even in sleep, she needed something to hold onto.

Ling didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe too loudly.

She just watched her.

The soft flutter of her lashes.

The little crease between her brows that only softened in these quiet moments.

God, she was beautiful like this.

Not the girl from the Kornnaphat estate.
Not the captain.
Not the untouchable queen of Riverbend.

Just Orm.
Curled up in Ling’s arms.
Safe. Loved. Real.

Ling slowly, slowly untangled herself, careful not to wake her.

She stood, stretched her back, and padded barefoot down the hall.

Leo’s door was already cracked.

She peeked in.

“Hey,” she whispered.

A sleepy voice answered, “You were loud.”

Ling smirked. “Was not.”

“You kissed her three times, Ling.”

Ling choked on a laugh. “Okay, creep, how long were you awake?”

Leo rubbed his eyes dramatically, sitting up. “Since I heard the couch squeak.”

Ling walked in, ruffling his hair. “Get up. Wanna help me surprise her?”

Leo blinked. “With what?”

“Breakfast.”

He grinned. “Can I make the eggs?”

Ling raised a brow. “You always burn them.”

“I’m learning.”

She snorted. “Fine. Eggs are yours. No shells this time.”

Leo hopped out of bed like a soldier. “Operation Cheerleader Breakfast. Let’s go.”

Pans clinked.

A gentle song played from Ling’s phone on the counter.

Leo stood on his little stool at the stove, concentrating very hard on cracking the second egg. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth in absolute focus.

Ling was at the other counter, slicing strawberries, glancing over every few seconds to make sure nothing was catching fire.

“Careful,” she said, “not too hot.”

“I know, Captain Bossy.”

“Captain Bossy is making you pancakes, so you better hush.”

Leo giggled.

Just then—

A soft shuffle.

Bare feet on tile.

And a voice, rough with sleep but amused, from behind:

“Should I be worried about the smell of slightly-burnt eggs?”

Ling turned.

Orm stood in the doorway, hoodie halfway zipped, hair messy, lips pink and puffy from sleep.

Leo grinned. “You weren’t supposed to be awake yet!”

Orm blinked. “I woke up and my heater was gone.”

Ling raised an eyebrow. “You call me your heater now?”

Orm stepped forward, arms wrapping around Ling from behind as Leo kept flipping eggs with far too much drama.

“You’re the only thing that keeps me warm,” Orm whispered against her neck.

Ling felt her cheeks warm — and not from the stove.

Leo gagged from the pan. “Stop being in love. I’m cooking here.”

Orm laughed — really laughed — the sound bouncing off the kitchen tiles and landing somewhere deep in Ling’s chest.

And for a second, the world wasn’t about galas or Ryan or family names.

It was this.

Eggs. Pancakes. Sleepy kisses. And the girl who looked at her like she was already home.

They sat around the small table a few minutes later, plates full of slightly misshapen pancakes, buttery eggs (only mildly burnt), and strawberries cut into heart-ish shapes because Leo insisted on using the cookie cutter.

Orm took a bite of pancake and groaned. “Why is this actually amazing?”

“Because I made them,” Ling said with mock smugness, nudging her with her foot under the table.

Leo grinned proudly. “I made the eggs!”

Orm glanced at him with wide eyes. “Well then, Chef Leo, I’m deeply honored.”

He puffed up, practically glowing at the praise.

Ling leaned back in her chair, sipping her orange juice, watching them. Watching Orm.

And something about it made her chest ache in the best, slowest way.

Orm looked so at ease here—laughing with Leo, hair still messy from sleep, hoodie sliding slightly off her shoulder. Like she belonged here.

Like this was their morning.

“You’re staring,” Orm said without looking up, reaching for another bite of strawberry.

“You’re beautiful,” Ling replied, too softly for Leo to hear.

Orm froze for half a second. Then slowly met her gaze.

There was something vulnerable in her eyes—open, unguarded. Ling rarely got to see her like this. The Orm who wasn’t performing for a team, or a school, or a legacy. Just… the Orm who kissed her in hallways and made bad jokes and clung to her in sleep like she’d fall apart otherwise.

“You make it hard not to fall,” Ling added, barely above a whisper.

Orm didn’t say anything right away.

She just reached across the table and took Ling’s hand.

Leo, oblivious, shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth and mumbled, “Okay, but seriously, can we go back to talking about me and how I made eggs without eggshells this time?”

Orm laughed again, but her eyes never left Ling’s.

“Chef Leo,” she said, voice light, “you are the true MVP of this household.”

Leo saluted with his fork.

Ling didn’t let go of Orm’s hand. She didn’t want to.

Orm’s phone buzzed against the counter.

Once.
Twice.
Then again.

Ling tried not to look, but she saw the way Orm’s body went still. The light in her eyes dimmed just a little.

Orm finally reached for it and glanced at the screen. Her shoulders tensed instantly.

She answered. “Hi, Mae.”

Ling busied herself with rinsing dishes, pretending not to listen—but every clipped word pricked at her like needles.

“I know… I’m at a friend’s. I’ll be back in time—”
A pause.
“They’re arriving when?”
Another pause. “Yes. I’ll be ready.”

Orm ended the call with a sigh and placed her phone down with too much care. Like if she wasn’t careful, everything would shatter.

Ling turned. “Your mom?”

Orm nodded. “The Andersons just landed. They’ll be at the house in two hours.” Her voice was calm, but too calm. Tight beneath the surface.

Ling crossed her arms. “You’re leaving soon?”

“In ten minutes,” Orm said softly, eyes flicking toward the window. “Chauffeur’s already on the way.”

Ling wanted to pretend this was normal. That this wasn’t the part where Orm slipped into a world Ling didn’t belong to. But the silence between them said it all.

“And the gala tonight?” Ling asked, trying to keep it light.

Orm hesitated.

Then she looked Ling in the eyes. “You’re not coming.”

It wasn’t cold.

It wasn’t cruel.

But it hurt.

Ling blinked. “Right. Makes sense.”

“It’s not because I don’t want you there,” Orm rushed, stepping forward. “God, Ling—I want nothing more. But it’s… not the kind of place you should have to walk into.”

Ling laughed, but it was hollow. “Because I don’t fit?”

“Because I don’t want them to hurt you,” Orm whispered. “They’ll look at you like you’re less. Like you’re disposable. And I’d lose it if you saw yourself through their eyes.”

Ling looked away.

Orm’s voice softened. “You’d have to stand in a room full of men who think they own me. Smile at girls who only talk to me because of my last name. Shake hands with Ryan’s father while pretending not to know what his son said to me last year.”

Ling’s jaw clenched.

“Don’t,” Orm said gently. “That’s why I don’t want you there.”

Ling swallowed hard. “So you’re just going to face them alone?”

“I’ve done it my whole life,” Orm said. “I can do it one more night.”

Ling stepped closer. “I don’t like it. I don’t like him.”

Orm smirked, but her eyes were tired. “No one does. Except my father.”

“And if Ryan tries anything—”

“He won’t,” Orm interrupted.

But Ling wasn’t done. Her voice dropped lower, protective and sharp. “If he touches you, says one thing out of line—just one—”

“Ling—”

“I’ll show up anyway,” she whispered. “And I won’t just break his nose. I’ll ruin his reputation.”

Orm looked at her—really looked. And something in her cracked.

She reached out, gently threading her fingers through Ling’s. “You don’t need to fight my battles.”

“I don’t want to,” Ling said. “I just want you safe.”

Orm squeezed her hand, eyes glassy now. “You’re the only place I ever feel that.”

Ling’s throat tightened. But she didn’t speak.

Leo called from the living room. “Orm! Car’s waiting!”

Orm turned toward the door.

Then turned back.

She kissed Ling—soft and slow, a little desperate, a little scared.

When they pulled apart, she whispered, “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

Ling nodded. “You better.”

And then Orm left.

Out the door. Down the steps. Back into a world Ling could only watch from the outside.

And Ling stood in the quiet kitchen, heart aching, jaw set.

She may not have been born into that world.
But she was falling in love with someone who was.

And she wasn’t about to lose her to it.

_________

The car slowed as it passed through the gates of the Kornnaphat estate, iron and gold gleaming under the afternoon sun. Everything looked pristine. Sculpted hedges, marble steps polished to a shine, flowers too symmetrical to be real.

But inside Orm?

Everything felt tight. Like she was being zipped into a dress two sizes too small.

The driver opened the door for her. She stepped out, smoothing down her skirt, chin high, expression blank.

The front door opened before she reached it.

Her father stood in the entryway, all sharp lines and judgment.

“Finally,” he said. “The Andersons will be here in an hour. Go upstairs and change. Wear the blue dress.”

Orm bit back the instinct to protest. Not now.

She glanced at her mother, standing just behind him—perfect in pearls and cream silk, but her eyes were soft. Tired.

“Hi, Mae,” Orm said quietly.

Her mother didn’t respond. Not verbally. But her gaze lingered—just long enough to say I see you. I’m sorry.

Her father turned on his heel and walked back inside, already giving orders to the staff.

Orm followed in silence, her footsteps echoing against the pristine marble.

As she climbed the stairs, her mother called softly after her, “I laid out your necklace.”

Orm paused at the landing, looked back. “Thanks.”

She could have said more.

But not here. Not with his shadow stretching long behind them both.

Upstairs, her room was untouched. Every pillow in place. Every trophy still gleaming. Like time didn’t dare move in here.

The blue dress was laid out neatly on her bed. The same one she wore to last year’s debutante gala. The one her father had once said made her look “respectable enough.”

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, fingers curled around the phone in her lap.

She wanted to text Ling.

Just to say I miss you already.

But before she could unlock it, there was a knock at the door.

Her mother stepped in, closing it gently behind her. Her smile was soft, but sad. Like she already knew what this night would take from her daughter.

“Did you eat?” she asked.

Orm nodded. “Ling made breakfast.”

Her mother’s lips twitched at the corners. “She’s good for you.”

“I know. Too bad nobody can see that”

A pause.

“He’s going to bring it up tonight,” her mother said finally. “Ryan.”

“I figured.”

Her mother sat beside her. Close, but not touching. “He wants this arrangement. The families… the image. The future he’s designed.”

“Do you?” Orm asked.

“No,” her mother said quietly. “But I also know he won’t listen to me.”

“He still thinks I’m just... going through a phase.” Orm’s voice was bitter now. “Like I’m dating Ling for fun.”

Her mother looked down at her hands. “He doesn’t understand that you’re bi, that you’ve always been. To him, it's just—rebellion. An inconvenience.”

Orm swallowed. “So what happens when I say no?”

Her mother didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

“I’m not going to marry Ryan,” Orm said firmly. “I don’t care what the Andersons mean to this family.”

Her mother finally looked at her, eyes glassy. “Then be careful. Because he’ll try to make you.”

Orm exhaled, slow and steady. “Let him try.”

She stood, picked up the dress, and walked to the closet.

But before she slipped it on, she said over her shoulder—

“I love her. Not because she’s safe. Because she’s mine.”

And her mother, voice barely above a whisper, replied—

“I know.”

Then she opened the door and left, her heels clicking softly down the hall, the only sound in a house full of silence and pressure and gold.

Orm stood in the middle of it, alone.

But not afraid.

Because in her pocket was Ling’s folded note from this morning.

And in her heart, a promise: No one would decide her future but her.

_________

Back at the apartment, the air still carried the scent of cinnamon and maple syrup, but the energy had shifted.

Ling stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, her hands in warm, soapy water. She wasn’t really washing—just scrubbing the same plate over and over. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes distant.

Leo sat at the kitchen table, legs swinging under the chair, pretending to color.

But he was watching.

And after a minute, he slid off the chair and wandered over, leaning his elbows on the counter beside her.

“Ling?”

No answer.

“Ling,” he said again, louder this time.

She blinked, snapped out of her thoughts. “What?”

“You’re doing the dishes like someone broke your heart.”

Ling let out a breathy laugh, surprised. “Wow. Okay. Dramatic.”

Leo shrugged. “I’m just saying. That plate’s been clean since forever.”

Ling sighed, turned off the tap, and dried her hands on the towel by the sink.

Leo tilted his head. “Is it because Orm left?”

“No,” Ling muttered, then paused. “Kind of.”

Leo leaned into her side. “She makes you happy.”

Ling looked down. “Yeah… she does.”

“I like her,” Leo announced proudly. “She’s the only person who makes you smile with your real smile. The one where your eyes squish up.”

Ling tried to hide that very smile, but it was already creeping in. “Oh, do they?”

Leo nodded solemnly. “And when she’s here, you don’t yell at me for burning eggs. So she’s basically magic.”

Ling laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

“She also always looks at you like you’re made of gold,” Leo added.

That one caught her off guard.

She turned toward him. “You think so?”

He nodded. “Even this morning. When you were making pancakes and you didn’t know she was watching you? I saw it. She had that face.”

Ling smiled softly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re really observant, you know that?”

Leo grinned. “I’m not a baby anymore. I know when someone’s in love.”

Ling’s breath hitched slightly. She looked toward the window, where the sunlight was slanting low, golden on the floor.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I think I am.”

Leo leaned into her side again, wrapping his little arms around her waist. “Then don’t be scared. Orm likes you too much to let those rich people win.”

Ling kissed the top of his head. “You’re kind of a genius, you know?”

He beamed. “I know. Now… can we have pancakes again for dinner?”

Ling laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

And as she stood there, holding onto her brother, she felt a little steadier.

Because no matter how cold that gala might be—

Orm would come back home.To her.

Leo pulled back just enough to look up at her, squinting like he was studying her face for answers.

“So…” he said slowly, “did you actually ask her to be your girlfriend?”

Ling blinked. “Huh?”

“You know. Officially. Like in the movies. With flowers or a sign or something.”

Ling laughed, but it came out more awkward than amused. “I mean… not exactly.”

Leo frowned. “What do you mean not exactly?”

“She called me her girlfriend,” Ling explained, a little flustered. “This week. Behind the locker rooms.”

Leo stared. “And you said?”

“I said, ‘Damn right, girlfriend.’”

Leo blinked.

Then groaned.

“Liiiiiiing,” he whined. “That’s not a real way to ask someone!”

Ling crossed her arms, suddenly defensive. “What was I supposed to do? Throw confetti and serenade her in the cafeteria?”

“Yes,” Leo said seriously. “Orm is worth at least that.”

Ling stared at him.

Leo shrugged. “I mean, you’re cool and all, but she’s like… sparkly. And soft. And she looks at you like you’re her favorite person in the whole world.”

Ling bit the inside of her cheek, a strange mix of pride and insecurity bubbling in her chest. “I’ve never… done this before, okay?”

Leo tilted his head. “What? Dating?”

She shook her head. “Romantic stuff. I’ve never had the time. Or the… space. Or anyone who made me feel like it was even possible.”

Leo’s expression softened immediately. “Because of Mum and Dad?”

Ling didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Leo stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist again and resting his chin against her chest.

“I think you’d be really good at it,” he mumbled.

“At what?”

“Being someone’s first real love.”

Ling blinked, throat tightening. “You think so?”

Leo nodded. “You already make me feel safe and happy. You just have to do the same for her. But with, like, more kissing and less eggs.”

Ling snorted, wiping at her eyes before anything could spill.

“Okay, Cupid,” she muttered, ruffling his hair. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You better,” Leo said with a grin. “And if you need help, I know a guy who can fold construction paper hearts like a pro.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s ten. Talented. Lives here. Huge fan of Orm.”

Ling laughed, really laughed this time, and hugged him again.

Maybe she hadn’t asked Orm properly.

Maybe she’d never done romance the way the world expected her to.

But with Leo’s faith, and Orm’s soft eyes from this morning still burned into her memory—

She was going to try.

And next time?

She’d make sure Orm knew exactly what she meant to her.

____________

The chandeliers shimmered overhead like a thousand watching eyes, glass catching the light of every camera flash and diamond cufflink. The ballroom glittered—gold, ivory, and cold elegance. Waitstaff drifted like ghosts, trays balanced with precision, champagne bubbling in endless circles.

Orm stood near the edge of the dance floor, one hand curled loosely around her clutch, the other resting at her side like it belonged to someone else. Her blue dress fit perfectly—tailored to perfection, just like the night. Just like the girl she was supposed to be.

But her skin itched beneath the fabric. Her stomach twisted every time someone said her name too sweetly, complimented her too deliberately, or glanced too long at Ryan.

“Smile,” he whispered beside her, glass raised in a perfect angle. “We’re being watched.”

“I’m aware,” Orm replied coolly, not looking at him.

Ryan’s grin was smooth. Practiced. “You clean up nicely. You always did.”

She said nothing.

He leaned in slightly, voice pitched lower now. “But I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting the… new edge to you. Is it the football girl? She making you rebellious now?”

Orm’s jaw tightened. “She has a name.”

“I’m sure she does,” Ryan said, still smiling. “But let’s be honest, Orm—you’re not serious about her.”

Orm turned to face him fully, her voice like a blade. “Aren’t I?”

Ryan took a slow sip of his champagne. “Come on. You and I both know this is temporary. A phase. Just something you’re doing to prove you’re not Daddy’s puppet.”

“You think this is about him?” Orm whispered, stepping just slightly closer. “You think I’d burn down my comfort, my safety, just to prove a point?”

Ryan shrugged. “People do all kinds of reckless things when they’re trying to find themselves.”

“And what are you trying to find, Ryan?” she asked sharply. “Approval? A wife to match your cufflinks?”

His smirk faltered. Just a flicker. Then it returned—more polished, colder. “I’m trying to find someone who understands what it means to be part of something bigger. To have power. Purpose. A legacy.”

“Then you’re looking in the wrong place.”

He stepped forward—closer than she liked. “You’re going to walk away from all this for her?”

“Gladly.”

“She’s a girl from the wrong side of the city with no title, no family name, no leverage. What can she offer you?”

“Everything you can’t.”

Ryan’s smile finally cracked, and in its place came something uglier. “You think she’ll stay? When the pressure hits? When your father starts really applying force? People like her—people without roots—don’t survive in our world. They break.”

Orm’s hands were trembling. Just slightly. But her voice didn’t waver.

“Then maybe I’ll leave your world.”

A beat.

Then he leaned in again, voice quiet, but heavy with something sharp. “Don’t forget who you are, Orm. We grew up in the same cages. You think you’re in love, but when the walls close in? You’ll come running back. You always do.”

She stared at him.

And slowly—deliberately—took a step back.

“I’m not a girl who runs anymore.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, the fabric of her gown sweeping behind her like a banner of war.

Orm didn’t stop walking until the ballroom was nothing more than distant music and the muted buzz of champagne flutes behind her.

She pushed through the side corridor like her lungs had just remembered how to breathe, heels clicking too loud on the marble as she found the nearest exit. A side balcony. Cold air hit her face the moment she stepped out, and she welcomed it like a slap.

The city lights stretched out below, glittering far more honestly than the room she’d just left.

Her hands gripped the stone railing, knuckles pale. Her heart thudded loud in her ears, louder than the strings swelling from the ballroom. Louder than Ryan’s voice, echoing somewhere in her skull:

She’ll break.
She won’t stay.
You’ll come running back.

He didn’t know anything.

Ling wasn’t breakable. Ling was the kind of girl who taught other people how to survive. Who held Orm like she was made of something soft and permanent. Who made Leo laugh and burned eggs and called her cheer queen in a voice that felt like home.

But God… it was getting harder to breathe in her father’s world.

A soft rustle behind her.

Orm turned sharply—tense, expecting more poison in a tuxedo.

But it was her mother.

She stepped onto the balcony quietly, a shawl around her shoulders, a phone in her hand.

“I thought I might find you here,” Mae said softly.

Orm tried to gather herself. “I just needed air.”

“I saw Ryan talking to you.”

Orm didn’t answer.

Her mother stepped closer, offering her the phone.

Orm blinked. “What—?”

“It buzzed in your bag,” Mae said gently. “I thought you might want to see it.”

Orm hesitated… then took it.

One new message.

[Ling • 8:34 PM]

Just in case no one in that place tells you tonight— You’re brilliant. And I’m so proud of you. Come home to me when it’s over.

Orm’s breath caught. She turned her face slightly, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes.

Mae watched her daughter quietly, something aching behind her gaze.

“You don’t belong to this world if it hurts you,” she said finally. “And if you love her—really love her—you don’t have to stay in it.”

Orm looked down at her phone. At those words.

Come home to me.

She swallowed hard. Nodded once.

“I do love her,” she whispered.

Mae smiled. “Then don’t let men like your father—or Ryan—make you forget who you are.”

A beat passed.

Then Orm typed quickly.

[Orm • 8:36 PM]

He pushed. I pushed back. I’m okay. I miss you.

She tucked the phone against her chest for a second, closing her eyes.

Then she looked at her mother again. “I have one more dance to fake. Then I’m leaving.”

Mae touched her arm. “Take the back car. The one without the driver. Keys are already in it.”

Orm blinked.

Mae smiled faintly. “It’s what I should have done at your age.”

A soft, grateful laugh escaped her lips. Then Orm leaned forward—hugged her mother tighter than she had in years.

“Thank you.”

Mae just held her back. 

____________

Milk had commandeered the remote, pausing mid-scroll on a horror movie with a cover that looked like it had a budget of five dollars and trauma.

“This one?” Milk asked.

Junji raised a brow. “You want to watch a demon possession movie while Ling is vibrating out of her skin worrying about Orm? Bold choice.”

Milk shrugged. “Maybe it’ll distract her.”

Ling shot them both a look. “I’m not vibrating.”

Junji didn’t even flinch. “Babe, you’ve checked your phone seventeen times in the last five minutes. Your thigh is bouncing like a jackhammer.”

“It’s called ‘being concerned,’” Ling muttered, picking up her soda and promptly forgetting she was holding it.

Junji leaned forward, stealing a slice of pizza. “You know she’s strong. She’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Ling said, but her voice didn’t sound convinced—even to herself.

Milk flopped dramatically across the couch, her legs ending up on Junji’s lap. “If Ryan so much as breathes wrong, I will launch a very gay hex.”

“I’m serious,” Ling said, gripping her phone again. “She said he’d be there. And that her dad’s making her play pretend for the Andersons. You didn’t see her face when she left. It was like—like she was walking into war.”

Junji’s tone softened. “And when she gets out? She’s coming back to you.”

“Unless Ryan gets punched first,” Milk added. “Which, honestly, let him try. I bet Orm’s heels could take out a kneecap.”

Ling cracked the tiniest smile. “She did once snap a heel during a cheer-off and still landed her full-down stunt like a badass.”

Junji raised her soda in salute. “Our queen.”

Ling's phone buzzed.

She froze.

Milk sat up so fast she nearly face-planted. “IS THAT HER?”

Ling unlocked the screen, heart pounding.

[Orm • 8:36 PM]

He pushed.
I pushed back.
I’m okay.
I miss you.

She stared.

Then read it again.

Then—slowly—her whole body melted into the couch cushions.

Junji peeked over her shoulder. “Oh… damn.”

Milk grinned. “Ohhh that’s I-just-dodged-a-rich-boy-bullet energy.”

Ling pressed the phone to her chest, a breath of laughter escaping. Then another.

“She’s okay,” she whispered, the tight knot in her chest finally starting to unravel.

“Duh,” Milk said. “Queen Orm would never let a legacy boy ruin her eyeliner.”

Ling looked at them, her voice suddenly soft. “She said she misses me.”

Junji threw an arm around her. “Of course she does. You’re the only person who sees her—not her name. Not her perfect GPA or perfect kicks or perfect face. Just… her.”

Milk flopped back down. “And now that the tension’s breaking, can we please watch this cursed ghost nun movie?”

Junji sighed. “Fine. But if you scream, you’re paying for my next therapy session.”

Milk hit play on the movie, and the TV flickered to life with grainy horror visuals and terrible violin screeches.

Leo peeked from around the hallway corner, eyes wide. “Is it the one with the ghost nun?”

Junji held out her arm like a cape. “Come here, my tiny child. I’ll protect you with snacks and sarcasm.”

Leo dove onto the couch, squeezing between Milk and Junji, blanket trailing behind him like a superhero cape.

Ling stayed seated, phone still against her chest, heart slowly calming to the rhythm of voices she loved.

She typed one more thing, quickly, before the first jump scare.

[Ling • 8:41 PM]

No one breaks me. Come home fast, my queen. I love you

She hit send.

And then, surrounded by the people who made the world feel a little softer, she finally let herself smile.

Orm was coming back. And Ling would be here, waiting—with her fists if needed, but more importantly: with warmth, with space, with love.

_______

Back inside the estate, the ballroom hummed without her.

But in a shadowed hallway just off the main corridor, Mr. Kornnaphat stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. His reflection, tall and still in the glass, watched the long driveway where the taillights of the back car disappeared into the night.

Footsteps behind him.

Harley.

“She’s gone,” the bodyguard said simply.

Mr. Kornnaphat nodded once.

“I expected she might,” he said, voice calm. Cold. “That’s why we installed the tracker last week.”

Harley said nothing.

“She thinks she’s escaping,” he added, almost amused. “But she’s only drawing lines I can now erase more cleanly.”

He turned, slowly, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Let her run,” he said. “Let her believe this rebellion is hers to control.”

A pause.

“Soon, she’ll remember who owns her name.”

The horror movie was playing now, but no one was really watching.

Leo had passed out in Junji’s lap, a popcorn kernel stuck in his hair. Milk was pretending to be brave but flinched every time the creepy violin music kicked in. Ling had retreated to the kitchen, wiping down a perfectly clean counter, glancing at her phone every few seconds.

Three dots appeared.

Ling’s heart jumped.

But then the dots vanished.

She waited.

Ling stepped into the hallway, out of earshot from the others, and called.

No answer.

She tried again. Straight to voicemail.

Tried again.

Still voicemail.

Her stomach started to sink.

She opened their location sharing—Orm’s dot was greyed out. “Location not available.”

She stood frozen in the hallway, the buzz of movie static humming faintly from the living room behind her.

Junji called out, “Ling? You good?”

Ling forced her voice steady. “Yeah. Just—checking something.”

But her thumb hovered over the screen, dialing again.

Nothing.

And in her chest, something cold began to coil. Quiet and sharp.

Orm had left. Orm had said she’d be home.

________

The car was quiet.

Too quiet.

Just the soft hum of tires on asphalt and the low click of the turn signal as she changed lanes. The city lights blurred past the windshield in golden ribbons, but Orm wasn’t looking at them. Not really.

Her hands were tight around the steering wheel. Tighter than they needed to be.

She had told her mother thank you.

She had hugged her.

She had believed, even just for a moment, that maybe she’d made it out clean.

But now?

Now something was… off.

Her eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

Nothing.

But the unease crept in anyway.

Her father didn’t lose. He didn’t let go. And he definitely didn’t leave keys in a car with no strings attached.

Her fingers hovered over the screen of the center console. Her phone buzzed in her bag, probably Ling again—and God, she wanted to see her so badly she could cry—but she didn’t move to check.

Instead, she tapped into the car’s settings. Started scrolling.

Tires. Lights. Fuel. GPS.

There.

Tracker Active.

No.

Her breath caught.

Her father was tracking her.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She swerved suddenly into a side street, breathing hard, fingers flying over the screen, trying to kill the setting. But the system was locked. Password protected.

Her father knew she might leave. He knew. And now?

He was following her. Watching where she was going.

Which meant—
Her stomach twisted.

Ling. Leo.

They were in danger.

Not because of guns or guards or dramatic threats.

Because her father had power. And men like him didn’t need to shout to burn someone’s life down. All he had to do was know. Know where to press. Who to threaten. What to take away.

She slammed her palm against the steering wheel, panic rising.

She couldn’t go to Ling’s. Not now. Not like this.
She couldn’t risk leading him to the only real home she’d ever known.

Her breath was shallow now. Tight.

She reached into her bag and finally pulled out her phone.

One unread message from Ling:

Come home soon. I’ve got pizza.
Leo’s crushing Mario Kart. And Milk’s planning to curse Ryan’s bloodline. You’d love it.

Orm’s throat closed up.

She couldn’t reply. Not yet.

Not until she was sure she hadn’t just led a predator straight to their door.

She gripped the wheel again, hard.

And made a sharp U-turn.

Not toward Ling. Toward anywhere else.

She needed to vanish first. She needed to erase herself from his system before she brought this war anywhere near the people she loved.

The security code clicked behind her as Orm let herself into Kary’s apartment—her fingers shaking, her breath already catching in her throat.

The scent of rosemary and soft vanilla drifted through the air. A low jazz playlist played in the background. Somewhere, a kettle clicked off.

Everything was soft. Peaceful. Safe.

Until she stepped in.

Kary looked up from the velvet couch, legs tucked under a throw blanket that probably cost more than Orm’s phone. Tess sat beside her, barefoot and smiling—until she saw Orm’s face.

The air snapped tight.

“Orm?” Kary stood immediately, popcorn bowl sliding to the side.

Orm’s voice broke. “I can’t go to Ling’s. He’s tracking me. I—I think the car—he knew I’d leave. He always knows.”

Tess was already on her feet.

Kary crossed the room in three strides and caught her just as Orm’s knees threatened to give.

“Whoa. Okay. You’re okay,” Kary murmured, arms around her now. “You’re safe. You’re safe here. Come on.”

Orm shook her head. “I should’ve known. I should’ve known he’d never let me go that easy. I’m so fucking stupid—if I’d gone to Ling’s—Leo—”

Her voice cracked again, real and raw.

Kary’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t do that. You didn’t lead him anywhere. You’re here. You did the right thing.”

She looked up at Tess. “Grab a blanket. Tea. Anything.”

Tess moved instantly, quiet and efficient.

Kary pulled Orm down onto the plush ottoman at the edge of the couch. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Orm breathed like she was trying not to drown.

“I left the gala in the car Mae told me to take. Said it had no driver. No strings. But halfway home I—something felt wrong. I checked the dashboard and… GPS was on. Locked. Protected with one of his passwords. He was tracking the whole time.”

Kary exhaled slowly. “Fuck.”

“I pulled into a random street, killed the engine, ran four blocks to a cab stand. Paid cash. I didn’t want to text. Didn’t want to call. I can’t—I can’t risk him tracing my signal back to her. Or Leo.”

Her voice shook again. “They’re too precious.”

Kary nodded once, her usual snark completely gone. Her voice, clear and focused. “Okay. Good. You thought fast. You’re safe here. This building has private security, no shared elevators, and I don’t let any of my nosy neighbors near my floor. No one knows you’re here.”

Orm looked at her, eyes red, mascara smudged. “Kary…”

“What?”

“I’m scared.”

Kary swallowed. Something behind her eyes shattered a little.

She’d never seen Orm like this. Not after a loss. Not after a fight. Not even when the gossip blogs spun some stupid rumor about her family. But this?

This was real fear. Not for herself. For the girl she loved. For a kid she wanted to protect.

“I’ve got you,” Kary said. “We’ve got you.”

Just then, Tess returned with tea and a weighted blanket.

And without a word, she set both down, then sat beside Orm—close, but not crowding her.

After a long, shaking breath, Orm finally let herself fall forward.

Kary caught her.

And held her like a sister.

Orm hadn’t moved for a full minute.

Face tucked into Kary’s shoulder, hands fisted in the fabric of her designer throw. Her breathing was slowing, but only just.

Tess sat beside them in silence, legs crossed, tea cooling between her palms. She didn’t say anything for a while—didn’t have to.

But then, voice low, just above a whisper—

“So… this is real then?”

Orm stiffened. Slightly.

Kary blinked. “What?”

Tess raised an eyebrow, a tiny smirk playing at the edge of her mouth. “You and Ling.”

She shrugged a little, tone playful but soft. “Captains in love. Kind of poetic, don’t you think?”

Orm let out a sound that was half a breath, half a laugh.

“God,” she muttered, dragging her hands over her face. “Is that what this looks like?”

Kary grinned. “No. What this looks like is you crash-landing into my living room in designer heels and a panic spiral.”

Tess sipped her tea, watching them. “But yeah. Also love.”

Orm didn’t deny it.

Didn’t even try.

She leaned back against the cushions, finally letting herself breathe deeper. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again.

“I think I’d burn everything down if it meant keeping her safe.”

Kary leaned forward, serious again. “Then we’ll help you keep her safe. Both of them.”

Tess nodded. “Even if we have to go full Gossip Girl vengeance arc to do it.”

Orm blinked. “You two are way too calm about this.”

“We’ve been waiting for this to blow up since Kary caught you with Ling’s hand up your shirt,” Tess said casually.

Kary choked. “Tess!”

Orm buried her face in her hands again, groaning. “Oh my God.”

But she was smiling now.

Just a little.

And even with the fear still coiled tight in her chest, there was something about this room—these two girls who saw her without the perfection—that made the panic ease.

Orm sat in silence, her phone still untouched on the table between them.

She could feel it there. Ling’s message, probably another one after that. Maybe a missed call by now.

But if she answered…

If she told her where she was…

If her father somehow traced it—if Leo ever got pulled into this—

Orm couldn’t let that happen.

Not for anything.

Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the phone. The screen lit up.

3 new messages from Ling.
Last one read:

Still nothing. Just let me know you’re okay. Please.

Orm closed her eyes.

She could still hear Ling’s voice in her head. Could still feel the echo of her kiss, the promise of her arms, the comfort of her laugh tangled with Leo’s.

And now she had to lie.

To protect them, she told herself.

Even if it shattered her.

Her fingers hovered. Then she typed:

[Orm • 10:14 PM]

I need space.
Please don’t try to find me.
I’m safe.

She stared at the message for a long time.

It wasn’t what she wanted to say.

It wasn’t the truth.

But it was all she could offer tonight.

She hit send.

And when the little “Delivered” appeared beneath it, Orm placed the phone screen-down on the coffee table.

Kary watched her quietly. “You told her?”

Orm nodded, voice flat. “She’ll hate me for it.”

Tess exhaled gently. “Only if she doesn’t realize you’re trying to keep her from being collateral.”

Orm didn’t say anything.

But when Kary reached over and gently took her hand, Orm didn’t pull away.

And across the city, in a quiet apartment that still smelled like popcorn and garlic knots, Ling’s phone buzzed once on the counter.

She read the message.

And her smile faded.

Completely.

The laughter had faded.

Leo was finally tucked into bed, limbs sprawled like a starfish, still clinging to his lightsaber spoon. Milk had passed out on the couch, mouth open mid-snore, a half-eaten mochi on her chest. Junji was dozing too, curled in the armchair like a cat.

The apartment had gone still again.

Ling stepped into the kitchen to grab her charger—and saw it.

Her phone.

Lit up.

1 new message from Orm.

Her heart leapt.
She swiped it open, already smiling.

[Orm • 9:14 PM]

I need space.
Please don’t try to find me.
I’m safe.

The smile vanished.Her thumb hovered above the screen, like if she didn’t touch it, it might change. Her chest tightened. Not in anger.

In heartbreak.

“I need space.”

That wasn’t how they talked. That wasn’t how they loved.

Her back hit the edge of the kitchen counter as she leaned into it, phone still in hand, trying to make the words mean something else.

But they didn’t.

It was distance. It was goodbye without saying it. It was a lock placed on a door she didn’t even know had been closing.

Junji stirred in the next room. “You good?”

Ling didn’t answer.

She couldn’t.Not when her throat felt like it had collapsed.

She typed something. Erased it. Typed again.

Backspaced the whole line.

Because what do you say when the person who just told you they miss you hours ago now won’t let you near?

Finally, she sent just three words:

[Ling • 10:16 PM]

Okay. Be safe.

Then she locked the screen.

Set the phone down. And leaned her head against the cool tile wall of the kitchen.

She wasn’t crying. Not yet.

But the silence inside her was starting to feel loud again.

She didn’t move from the kitchen wall.

Not for a while.

The message kept flashing behind her eyes, cruel in its simplicity.

I need space.
Please don’t try to find me. I’m safe.

She heard the shuffle of footsteps before she turned.

Junji stood in the doorway, hoodie half-zipped, hair a mess from sleep.

Milk was behind her, rubbing one eye. “Hey,” she mumbled. “What time is it? You okay?”

Ling straightened. Too fast. “Yeah. Sorry. Just—didn’t mean to wake you guys.”

Junji tilted her head, studying her. “You didn’t.”

Milk blinked at her. “You’re doing the Ling thing.”

“What Ling thing?”

Junji crossed her arms. “The one where your face goes super still, but your eyes look like someone just unplugged you from oxygen.”

Ling looked away. “It’s nothing.”

Milk padded closer. “Is it Orm?”

A pause.

Ling nodded.

Junji frowned. “What happened?”

Ling didn’t answer right away.

Then she said quietly, “She texted. Said she needs space. Not to find her.”

Milk’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Junji looked like someone had just slapped her.

Ling held up her hands. “No, I get it. I do. She just came from hell. Her dad. Ryan. The pressure. The legacy. And me?”

She shrugged.

“I'm just... a girl with no title. No house with gates. No driver. No pearls. I don’t belong in her world. I never did.”

Silence.

Then Junji stepped forward, gently but fiercely. “Okay. First of all.”

Milk nodded, arms crossed now too. “We are not doing this.”

Junji’s voice was sharp. “Don’t you dare reduce yourself to a bank account.”

Milk’s eyes flashed. “Orm is obsessed with you. Like, ‘smiles when she hears your name’ obsessed. ‘Puts your picture as her lock screen and pretends it was an accident’ obsessed.”

Ling tried to laugh, but it didn’t land.

Junji softened. “She’s not pushing you away because you’re not enough. She’s pushing you away because she’s scared.”

“She’s scared for you,” Milk added. “Which means she loves you like crazy.”

Ling’s voice cracked. “Then why does it feel like she just left me?”

Junji stepped in and wrapped her arms around her. “Because love isn’t clean. Not when your life’s been survival for years.”

Milk joined them, arms around both. “But we know you. And she does too. You’re not disposable, Ling. You’re the reason she breathes when that house tries to choke her.”

Ling finally let the tears slip.

Quiet. Slow. But real.

Junji held her tighter. “We’ve got you. Until she finds her way back.”

Milk rested her head against Ling’s shoulder. “And when she does? You better believe we’re throwing hands if she ever tries that ‘space’ crap again.”

Ling huffed a wet laugh. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Junji smiled. “And you’re loved. Don’t forget that.”

________

Kary had insisted she take the guest room.

Tess brought her water. Offered her sweats.

They didn’t ask more questions after the crying stopped. They just let her be. And that was enough.

Orm sat curled on the edge of the bed now, hair damp from a rushed shower, Kary’s oversized hoodie drowning her frame. Her fingers traced the hem, mind running in spirals.

She stared at the phone on the nightstand.

Screen down.

She hadn’t picked it up since she sent the message.

She hadn’t dared to.

It was after midnight. The city was quiet.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Then—

A knock.

Not a buzz from the lobby. Not a phone call from downstairs.

A knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps on Kary’s front door.

Tess, still awake on the couch, stood quickly. Kary met her in the hallway.

They both looked at Orm’s door.

Frozen.

The knock came again. Louder. Sharper.

Kary stepped forward—ready to yell, to call security.

She opened the door.

And stopped breathing.

Mr. Kornnaphat stood in the hallway.

Immaculate in his charcoal coat, gloves still on. A man who didn’t raise his voice because the air listened to him regardless.

Beside him—

Harley.

Silent. Watchful. Unsmiling.

Kary’s voice came out small. “How—”

“I suggest,” Mr. Kornnaphat said, calm and final, “you not interfere.”

Tess was already moving—stepping protectively toward Orm’s door.

Too late.

He was already stepping inside.

“Orm,” he called, smooth as glass. “Come now.”

She appeared in the hallway, pale. Barefoot. Her shoulders square, but her eyes wide.

Kary moved to block him. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Harley took a quiet step forward.

Kary flinched back, heart pounding.

Orm didn’t move.

“I knew you’d run,” her father said. “I just didn’t expect here.”

He looked around the apartment like it was beneath him. Like it was offensive that someone like his daughter could breathe in a place this warm.

“I didn’t go to her,” Orm said quietly, voice trembling. “You didn’t get to her.”

Mr. Kornnaphat smiled.

“Not yet.”

Harley stepped forward.

Orm backed away instinctively—but then squared her shoulders.

“I’m not a child.”

“No,” her father said. “You’re a liability.”

And with that, he gave Harley the smallest of nods.

Orm didn’t scream.

She didn’t fight.

But her eyes locked on Kary as Harley moved to her side.

And in them, Kary saw it—

Regret. Rage. And one last desperate flicker of relief.

Because it wasn’t Ling he found.

It wasn’t Leo.

It was her.

And if Orm had to be dragged back into the cage, at least she hadn’t left the door open to the people she loved.

Harley placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

And Mr. Kornnaphat turned to Kary one last time.

“You’ve done enough.”

Then they were gone.

Door closed.

Silence.

Kary just stood there, shaking, heart pounding against her ribs.

Tess whispered, “We need to call Ling.”

And Kary—staring at the door like it might burn down any second—nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “We really do.”

But they knew deep down, they couldn't.