Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

* Flashback - 7 months ago, Hong Kong *

As soon as Junji arrived at the hospital, she barely took in any of it.

The drive from the airport had passed with her staring out the window without really seeing the city. Hong Kong lights blurred together while her knee bounced the entire way there and her chest stayed tight enough that every red light felt unbearable.

Inside the hospital lobby, everything had looked polished and expensive and far too calm for the panic racing through her, but she barely registered more than bright marble floors and the sound of her own hurried footsteps as she crossed the building and rushed toward the elevator.

Even the ride up felt endless.

Her pulse was pounding so hard by the time the doors opened that she almost stepped out before they fully parted.

It was only when she reached Ling’s floor and got stopped outside the room that she finally slowed down enough to actually notice where she was.

Two bodyguards stepped in front of her immediately.

Tall. Professional. Unreadable. Murderous.

The kind of security that made her blink in surprise because it felt so out of place in a hospital.

One asked for her name.

The other politely requested her phone and bag.

Junji handed both over without hesitation, barely even thinking about it because her focus had tunneled so hard on one thing and one thing only.

Seeing Ling.

Actually seeing her awake.

The second they stepped aside and opened the door, Junji walked in.

Then stopped cold.

The room looked nothing like a hospital room. It looked like a private presidential suite inside a luxury hotel. The windows stretched floor to ceiling with a full view of the harbor beyond them, city lights reflecting off the water. Warm lighting softened every corner of the room. Fresh flowers sat arranged on a table near a large cream-colored couch.

Even the blankets and furniture looked expensive.

Everything was immaculate.

Quiet.

Luxurious enough that Junji felt disoriented for half a second, like she had somehow walked into the wrong place.

But the second her eyes landed on Ling, all of that disappeared.

Ling looked pale.

Much thinner than the last time Junji had seen her.

Even tucked into a massive hospital bed under clean white sheets, she somehow looked smaller.

Fragile in a way Junji had never seen before.

Ling watched her with so much fondness and a crooked smile that Junji started crying before she even made it fully across the room.

“Oh my god, Ling… how are you feeling? Are you hurt still? Can you eat? Do you need anything?”

The questions came out fast and breathless as Junji rushed to her bedside.

Ling’s smile softened.

She looked exhausted, but still so undeniably herself.

Jane chuckled quietly from the foot of the bed.

That got Junji to stop and turn.

Her eyes narrowed immediately as she looked Jane up and down.

Ling reached over and rested a gentle hand on Junji’s arm.

“I’m feeling better than before. I can eat, but not a lot. I don’t need anything. And this is Jane, my confidant in Hong Kong basically. I’ve known her since my internship last summer.”

Junji looked between Ling and Jane with suspicion.

“Are you two…”

Jane’s eyes widened so fast it actually amused Ling.

“EW. No!”

The answer came out immediate and horrified enough that Junji blinked.

Then Jane lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers in the air, the wedding ring catching under the soft overhead lights.

Ling rolled her eyes, a faint smile pulling at her mouth.

“Wow, Jane. You really did not have to say ew like that.”

Jane pressed a hand dramatically to her chest.

“I absolutely did.”

That finally got Junji to let out a short laugh through everything she had been holding in.

“Okay,” she said, still eyeing Jane suspiciously. “Hi, Jane.”

Jane smiled her usual warm and easy smile.

“Hi. I’ll give you two some space to talk. I’ll be right outside.”

Her gaze flicked toward Ling for half a second, lingering just enough to silently ask if she was okay.

Ling gave the smallest nod and Jane caught it immediately.

Then she slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

The quiet that followed felt heavier.

More private.

Junji turned back toward Ling right away and tightened her grip around her hand.

The warmth grounded Ling more than she expected.

Junji’s eyes searched her face.

Every pale inch of it.

Every trace of exhaustion.

Then she asked quietly, “What happened?”

Ling swallowed.

Her throat still felt rough.

“Car accident, apparently. My phone was completely smashed, and my parents…” Her voice softened at the end. “They didn’t try contacting anyone in Bangkok.”

Junji’s expression changed immediately.

The understanding.

The pieces clicking together.

And Junji had seen firsthand exactly what that silence had done after months passed with no answers.

She exhaled slowly, then gave Ling’s hand another squeeze.

“Ask me what you actually want to ask.”

Ling straightened a little against the pillows.

The movement pulled at muscles still sore enough to ache, but she forced herself through it anyway.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the blanket over her lap.

“Can you help me go to Bangkok?”

Junji stared at her.

Then looked her over from head to toe.

The hospital bed.

The scars.

The way Ling still looked drained just from sitting upright.

And immediately:

“No.”

The answer came out so fast it was like she didn’t even need to think it through.

Junji shook her head hard.

“Absolutely not. You are in no state to travel anywhere.”

Ling swallowed.

Her fingers curled tighter into the blanket.

“Jie…”

Junji’s expression softened.

Only slightly.

But she stayed firm.

Ling kept her eyes lowered.

Her voice barely above a whisper when she said, “I need to see it for myself. I just… I don’t want to believe it.”

She still could not bring herself to meet Junji’s eyes.

It hurt Junji more than she expected to see Ling like this.

Pale against white sheets. Looking exhausted after barely sitting up for a conversation.

Still somehow trying to bargain like sheer stubbornness could override what her body clearly needed.

And Junji knew exactly what Ling was doing.

Knew that soft look.

Knew the way Ling always got a little quieter when she used that nickname because she already knew Junji’s resolve would weaken.

Still, Junji forced herself to stay firm.

“Ling,” she said carefully, squeezing her hand. “I have never lied to you when it comes to serious things like this. Orm is dating Aom. You have to believe me.”

Ling’s grip tightened around the sheets.

Her knuckles paling as her eyes lowered.

“I know.”

Her voice sounded thin. Tired.

“But I still want to see it with my own eyes.”

Junji stared at her.

Ling was stubborn and unmoving.

Exactly the same as always somehow.

And she sighed.

“Even if I agreed to this, can you even walk? Are your parents going to allow you to?”

Ling’s breath caught, and Junji immediately saw her right hand begin to tremble, starting small before the shaking worsened enough that Ling instinctively reached over with her left hand to steady it.

Junji’s expression changed immediately, and she covered Ling’s shaking hand with her own, warm and steady as she gently squeezed.

“Hey.”

Her voice softened.

“What’s happening with your hand?”

Ling looked away.

“It trembles.”

She tried to say it casually, like it meant nothing and Junji should ignore it, but the words had barely left her mouth before the trembling worsened again, forcing Ling to swallow hard and look away.

“Please help me. I can’t walk yet, so I’ll be in a wheelchair. I’ll stay in the car. I just…” Her voice broke a little. “I need to see it myself.”

Junji looked at her for a long second.

At the exhaustion all over her face.

At the stubbornness she had known for years.

At the way Ling looked like she physically could not rest until she had an answer.

And Junji knew that even if she refused, even if everyone else refused, Ling would still find a way.

That somehow scared her more.

Junji hesitated before asking, “Did you already ask your parents?”

Ling gave a small nod.

“And Jane?”

Another nod.

“They’ve all been saying no for days.”

Her voice softened.

Tired enough that it barely sounded like her.

“But you’re the only one here who actually knows what this means to me, jie.”

Ling’s fingers tightened around the blanket in her lap.

Her eyes looked impossibly raw.

“So please.”

The word came out quiet.

Almost breaking.

“Help me.”

Junji closed her eyes for a second and exhaled, then stood.

“Let me talk to Jane.”

Her eyes stayed on Ling as she stood, worry still written plainly across her face even while she looked torn on what the right thing to do actually was.

“I’ll be right back.”

—

Ling waited for what felt like forever.

She kept glancing at the clock mounted on the wall, counting each passing minute because focusing on that somehow felt easier than sitting with the anxiety twisting tighter in her chest.

Ten minutes.

Then twenty.

Then nearly half an hour.

By then she had already rehearsed every possible answer in her head and convinced herself they had all said no.

So when the door finally opened and both Junji and Jane stepped back inside together, Ling straightened so quickly she almost regretted it.

Jane crossed her arms immediately.

Her expression calm.

Professional but firm enough that Ling knew she had already lost half the argument.

“If we go see her, you are not allowed to make contact with her. You are not allowed to go near her. You stay in the car and watch from a distance. We take the Kwong private jet and come straight back immediately after. Do you understand?”

Junji’s head snapped toward Jane.

“Wait.”

Her eyes widened.

“Private jet?”

Jane blinked once.

Completely unfazed.

“Yes. Ling’s family’s private jet.”

She said it so casually it almost sounded absurd. Like they were discussing a taxi.

Junji slowly looked around the room again, taking in the suite, the furniture, the harbor view through the windows, and the bodyguards stationed outside before turning back to stare at Ling like she was seeing her through an entirely different lens.

“Oh my god.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Are you rich rich?!”

Despite everything, Ling almost smiled.

“Yes. But we can unpack that later.”

Her attention shifted straight back to Jane.

“I understand.”

The words came out quickly, before anyone had the chance to change their mind.

Then her voice softened.

“Can you please convince my parents?”

Jane’s expression softened a little.

“I’ll try.”

Then she sighed.

“But I’m almost certain they’ll send a team of bodyguards and medical staff with us, so prepare yourself.”

Ling nodded immediately.

“I know. Just… don’t let them make it too obvious.”

—

The flight back to Bangkok felt suffocating from the second they took off.

Even inside the quiet luxury of the private jet, Ling could not settle.

The cabin was spacious enough to feel comfortable on any other day, but tonight it felt too enclosed, like the walls kept inching closer the longer they stayed in the air. Her fingers would not stay still. She kept twisting them together, pressing her nails into her palms, then stopping only to start again a few seconds later. Every restless movement felt louder than it was.

She was trying so hard to keep herself composed.

Trying to keep her breathing even and her expression neutral because she knew Jane was watching her closely, and any sign of panic would be enough reason to turn everything around and fly her back to Hong Kong.

Jane sat across from her with her laptop open, pretending to work, but Ling could feel every glance.

Junji stayed beside her the entire flight. Quiet for most of it, though Ling could feel her checking every few minutes to make sure she was still okay.

Earlier that day Junji had casually messaged Orm to ask what she was doing that evening.

Orm answered without suspicion.

That somehow made Ling feel worse.

Because Orm had sounded normal, like this was just another evening in her life, like the world had kept moving while Ling had been trapped somewhere behind it trying to catch up.

And somehow hearing her sound so easy and unaffected hurt Ling because it felt like Orm had learned how to breathe and laugh and keep living without her in a way Ling still had not figured out how to do herself.

By the time they reached Bangkok and drove across the city, night had already settled over everything. The streets glowed under traffic lights and neon signs, crowded and alive in the same familiar way Ling remembered.

Junji ended up leaving after getting pulled into a work emergency.

Ling had actually been relieved.

She loved Junji deeply, but the fewer people around her right now, the easier it was to breathe.

So it ended up just being her and Jane inside the tinted van parked across from Orm’s building.

Ling sat by the rear passenger window and never looked away from the entrance.

The same front doors she had stood in front of so many nights before.

The same place she used to linger with Orm because neither of them ever wanted to say goodnight first.

The memory made something tighten painfully in her chest.

She forced herself to stay calm.

Jane stayed beside her in silence, close enough to catch anything before it spiraled.

Nearly two hours passed like that.

Too many strangers walking in and out.

Too many moments where Ling’s pulse jumped before sinking again.

Then a white sedan pulled up near the curb.

Ling’s hand tightened so hard against the seat cushion her knuckles hurt.

Her body leaned closer to the glass before she even realized she had moved.

And then Orm stepped out.

Ling’s entire body locked.

Her throat closed.

Her heart started pounding so hard she swore Jane could hear it.

Jane noticed immediately and put her phone down without taking her eyes off Ling.

But Ling barely registered any of it.

Because Orm was right there.

Real.

Standing under the warm glow from the building entrance.

And then Aom stepped out too.

She walked over without hesitation and reached for Orm’s waist like she had done it a hundred times before, pulling her close before kissing her deeply.

Easy.

Natural.

Familiar.

And Orm’s arms lifted around Aom’s neck like that was exactly where they were meant to be.

Ling felt tears fall freely down her cheeks, warm against her skin, but she could not bring herself to look away.

She stayed frozen by the window while Orm and Aom lingered outside for another moment, standing close enough that Ling could still see the shape of Aom’s hand resting near Orm’s waist before they finally turned and walked into the building together with their fingers intertwined.

And Ling felt something inside her shatter so deeply it reached her soul.

Like a thousand sharp cuts tearing through her from the inside all at once.

Her body reacted before her thoughts did.

Instinctively her eyes lifted higher toward the sixth-floor window.

The same window she had spent countless nights standing beneath.

The same one she used to glance up at while waiting for Orm.

The same one she had memorized so well she could find it without thinking.

Minutes later the light inside turned on.

Ling’s breathing turned uneven immediately.

She could see movement behind the curtains.

Blurry shapes shifting inside a space she knew by heart.

And she kept watching.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

An entire hour disappeared while Ling sat completely still with tears falling down her face.

Eventually the light turned off.

The apartment went dark.

But Ling kept staring anyway.

Waiting.

Because Aom had to leave eventually.

Right?

She would walk back downstairs.

She would step out of the entrance.

She would get in her car and go home.

Ling waited for that.

And kept waiting.

One hour passed.

Then two.

Then three.

Then four.

The city around them quieted.

Traffic thinned.

Streetlights reflected across the tinted glass.

Aom never came out.

Jane stayed quiet beside her through all of it, patient and steady in that way she always was, giving Ling every second she needed even while watching her slowly come apart in silence.

But after hours of watching Ling stare at that building with her breathing getting shakier and her fingers trembling harder in her lap, Jane finally could not bear it anymore.

Jane finally reached over and placed a gentle hand against Ling’s knee.

“Ling… it’s time to go.”

And that was what broke the dam inside her.

Just that one touch.

That one quiet reminder that this was real and it was over and they had to leave.

Everything Ling had been holding in since seeing Orm’s contact photo came crashing down all at once.

Every message she had reread in that hospital bed.

Every sleepless night she had spent staring at the ceiling trying to hold onto hope.

Every future she had imagined for her and Orm.

Every promise she thought still belonged to them.

It all collapsed so hard she doubled over into herself and cried into both hands.

Her whole body shook violently.

Her voice cracked so badly Jane could barely make out the words between sobs.

“How can she move on like this?”

Ling gasped for air.

Tears soaked through her palms.

“How can she say she’d wait for me and then start dating the one person she threw me away for?”

Jane tried to steady her.

Tried to rub a hand across her back.

But Ling was crying too hard to even feel it.

“I love her so much.”

“I love her so damn much.”

Her breathing hitched painfully.

And then she cried even harder.

“I love her and while I was fighting for my life in a hospital bed… she moved on.”

Jane was saying something.

Soft.

Urgent.

Trying to ground her.

But Ling still barely heard any of it.

The entire night blurred.

One second she was still parked outside Orm’s building sobbing so hard her chest physically hurt.

The next she was being wheeled back through the private airport terminal with bodyguards moving around them and Jane crouched beside her trying to keep her breathing even.

By the time they were back on the jet, Ling had stopped crying, at least on the outside.

The tears on her face had dried and her breathing had steadied enough to pass for calm, but none of it reached her mind because it would not stop replaying the night over and over again, every second repeating so clearly it felt like she was still sitting across from Orm’s building watching everything happen in real time.

Orm in Aom’s arms.

Aom kissing her.

Orm kissing her back.

The apartment lights.

The waiting.

The silence.

The hurt twisted into something uglier the longer Ling sat there staring blankly ahead.

Betrayal sharpened until it felt precise enough to cut.

The hurt that had been grief only minutes ago began hardening into something heavier, something sharper around the edges, and then anger rose with it so suddenly Ling barely recognized herself.

Because Orm had lied.

Orm had looked at her with tears in her eyes and promised forever like she meant every word.

Promised she would wait.

Promised there was nothing left with Aom.

Promised Ling had nothing to worry about.

And in the end, Ling had dragged herself through pain clinging to those promises while Orm had still ended up choosing Aom.

The thought hit harder every time it replayed.

Ling had believed all of it so completely she built entire futures around those words.

Held onto them when she had nothing else.

And now all she could see was Orm wrapped in Aom’s arms under the warm lights outside her apartment building, kissing her like they were meant to be together all along.

Like Ling had never been part of that space at all.

Like Ling had been the only one still carrying promises that had already been left behind.

More ugly feelings surfaced, the kind Ling hated admitting even to herself, jealousy tangled with bitterness and resentment until they became impossible to separate, but she let every single one settle into place anyway instead of fighting them.

Then she slowly straightened in her seat.

Her fingers were still trembling in her lap.

But her eyes had gone dry.

Something harder settled over her then, heavy and unmovable.

And Ling made herself one promise.

She would get better.

No matter how long it took.

No matter how brutal physical therapy became.

No matter how many days her body refused to cooperate or how exhaustion kept dragging her back down.

She would rebuild every shattered piece of herself.

And then she would come back to Bangkok.

She would stand in front of Orm again as someone stronger.

Someone impossible to overlook.

Someone Orm would finally see clearly.

And when that day came…

Orm would understand exactly what she had lost.

End of flashback.

—

* Present - Author’s POV *

After that night at Gina’s, Ling respected Orm’s request and stayed away.

She never showed up anywhere she thought Orm might be, never asked Junji or Gina how she was doing, never let herself linger too long whenever Orm’s name came up in conversation because she knew one question would become too many.

She gave Orm every bit of distance she had asked for, even when every part of Ling still wanted the opposite, wanted to hear her voice again, wanted to reach for her and hold on until the anger between them softened into something gentler.

But she did not.

Because Orm had stood in Gina’s backyard with tears in her eyes and pain in every word and told Ling not to talk to her again.

And Ling had already taken enough from her.

She could live with her own heartbreak.

She could carry regret.

She could keep loving Orm from a distance until it hollowed her out completely if she had to.

But she would not take one more thing Orm had not willingly given.

Ling still loved her, that had never changed.

But the anger she had carried for months slowly disappeared after that night and left something uglier behind.

Self-loathing.

The kind that settled deep and stayed there.

The kind that made Ling feel trapped inside a body that no longer moved the way it used to, exhausted by things that once felt effortless, frustrated by every tremor and every reminder that she still was not fully herself no matter how hard she pushed.

The kind that made her think about Orm and Aom together and feel something sharp and ugly twist in her chest, because Aom looked healthy and steady and fully present in every way Ling could not seem to be.

And if Orm was smiling like that with someone who could actually stand beside her without falling apart, who could love her without bringing pain and silence and unfinished explanations with them, then maybe that was what Orm deserved.

Someone whole.

Someone easy.

Someone who would not leave her carrying grief and unanswered questions for months.

That thought stayed with Ling longer than anything else.

Until every memory of Orm started blending with regret and exhaustion and the awful feeling that maybe loving her had never been enough when Ling herself no longer felt like enough at all.

Instead of sitting with any of it, she buried herself in work and work made it easy.

The public announcement from AW Group hit every business outlet within weeks.

Sirilak Kwong introduced as the new CEO of AW Group and head of the newly launched Bangkok office.

From that point forward, her life stopped feeling like it belonged to her.

Every morning started before she felt ready, with back-to-back meetings already lined up before she had even finished her first cup of coffee, one executive discussion rolling straight into another until hours disappeared without her noticing.

Her afternoons became endless project reviews and acquisition updates and stacks of reports that kept multiplying faster than she could clear them, each one urgent, each one needing her approval, each one expecting immediate decisions she had never imagined needing to make this soon.

Most evenings did not feel like evenings anymore.

They turned into networking dinners with investors and business partners, polished hotel ballrooms filled with expensive perfume and champagne glasses and conversations Ling had to stay sharp through even when exhaustion was already settling into her bones.

And when those ended, there were still charity galas and press appearances and interviews and introductions, each one demanding her attention, her focus, her smile.

There was always another phone call waiting.

Another event added to her calendar.

Another room full of powerful strangers watching her carefully and expecting confidence, leadership, certainty.

And Ling gave it to every single one of them.

Polished enough that no one questioned her.

Collected enough that no one noticed how hard she had to work to keep herself standing through it all.

The ideal heiress stepping fully into the role she had once thought she had years before needing to touch.

Jane stayed beside her through all of it.

Through every meeting.

Every schedule change.

Every last-minute event.

By then she knew Ling well enough to catch things before anyone else did.

The way Ling skipped meals and brushed it off with a quiet “later.”

The way her coffee went untouched because she forgot it existed.

The way exhaustion sat heavier under her eyes each week.

Jane was the first to notice and the first to gently ask her to take breaks.

To go home earlier.

To sleep.

To eat something real.

Ling always answered with that same small smile and a quiet “thank you” before gently brushing it aside and saying there were still urgent matters she needed to finish.

Junji tried too.

She invited Ling over for dinner more than once, sometimes phrasing it casually and sometimes trying guilt or outright demanding she show up, but Ling always replied warmly and apologized before offering another meeting, another work trip, or another reason she could not make it.

The rest of the group checked in too.

Kate.

May.

Fluke.

Gina.

Everyone except Orm.

Ling replied every time and never left anyone ignored. Slowly, her friends started reaching out more often again, checking in on her, asking how work was going, inviting her to dinner or sending updates about their lives.

But it never quite felt like it used to.

The conversations stayed on the surface, polite and careful in a way they had never been before. Ling could still feel the hesitation underneath their messages, the distance that lingered no matter how friendly they tried to be, as if every text carried the unspoken reminder that one day she had disappeared without a word and left them behind.

She tried not to linger on that uncomfortable feeling for too long because this was her doing.

She had made her choices, and now she was living with the consequences of them. Dwelling on it would not change anything immediately.

So instead she buried herself in work.

Work distracted her from everything else in her life that was not going well. It kept her busy enough that she did not have to think too hard about the things she missed or the people she had hurt.

There were always meetings to prepare for, reports to review, flights to catch, and decisions waiting for her attention.

Work gave her structure. Work gave her purpose.

Most importantly, work was a version of herself she still knew how to control.

And if she worked hard enough, long enough, exhausted herself enough, then maybe she would not think about amber eyes.

Or sixth-floor apartment windows.

Or promises whispered half asleep.

Or the fact that no matter how full her calendar became, every quiet moment still somehow led back to Orm.

—

Ling stood at the end of a long conference table on the highest floor of AW’s Bangkok office, one hand resting lightly against the polished wood while the presentation screen behind her displayed acquisition numbers and projected land development plans.

The boardroom was cold from the air conditioning.

Bright.

Quiet except for the sound of Ling’s voice.

Executives lined both sides of the table with documents open in front of them while several members of the legal team typed notes onto tablets.

Jane stood off to the side near the wall, reviewing the next schedule block on her tablet.

Ling had been speaking for nearly forty minutes already.

She could feel exhaustion dragging heavier through her body than usual.

A dull ache pressed behind her eyes.

Her fingers had started trembling earlier, but she had hidden it by keeping one hand against the table.

Then dizziness hit.

Fast enough to make her stomach twist.

The room shifted for half a second.

The floor suddenly feeling farther away than it should.

Ling swallowed hard and kept going.

“The projected land value after redevelopment should increase by approximately thirty-eight percent within the first fiscal year,” she said evenly, clicking to the next slide.

“If we finalize the purchase this month, AW will secure development rights before the surrounding district begins expansion and that gives us a stronger position when negotiations open with—”

Her vision blurred.

Ling blinked hard.

Forced herself to focus.

One of the executives frowned slightly.

Ling straightened.

“If we move quickly enough, then we should be able to leverage the exis… exi…”

The word caught.

Her breath stuttered.

Jane looked up immediately.

Ling tried again.

“If we leverage the existing—”

The room tilted so sharply Ling almost lost her footing.

Her hand shot out and found the edge of the conference table.

For one terrifying second she thought she was going down.

The dizziness surged through her body hard enough that her vision blurred around the edges.

Someone stood abruptly.

“Ms. Kwong?”

Jane had already put her tablet down.

Ling took a slow breath.

Then another.

Her fingers tightened against the table until the wave finally began to pass.

When she looked up again, every executive in the room was staring at her, concern written plainly across their faces even though nobody said a word or dared to question her.

Ling straightened slowly, lifting her chin and smoothing every trace of weakness from her expression before anyone could comment on what they had just seen.

“I’m fine.”

The lie came easily after years of practice and far too much time spent pretending she was fine when she wasn't.

The room remained silent for another moment before everyone reluctantly sat back down.

Only Jane continued watching her.

Her attention lingered longer than it should have.

Long enough that Ling noticed.

Long enough that Ling knew Jane had seen far more than everyone else.

Something was wrong.

Jane knew it.

Ling knew it.

Neither said a word.

Instead Ling clicked to the next slide.

“The projected land value after redevelopment should increase by approximately thirty-eight percent within the first fiscal year,” she continued, her voice steady despite the lingering dizziness. “If we finalize the purchase this month, AW will secure development rights before the surrounding district begins expansion.”

The meeting continued.

Ling pushed through the remaining slides.

Answered questions.

Reviewed projections.

Discussed risk assessments and timelines.

By the time she officially concluded the presentation, nobody would have known she had nearly collapsed in the middle of it.

“Thank you, everyone,” Ling said as she gathered her notes. “I expect the revised acquisition proposal on my desk by Friday.”

The executives slowly filed out of the room, several of them glancing back at her with obvious concern and clear disbelief that she was actually fine, but none of them challenged her while she stood there looking as composed as ever, still very much their CEO.

Jane was the last person left in the room.

She remained by the door, studying Ling carefully.

Ling offered her a tired smile.

“I’m okay.”

Jane did not look convinced in the slightest, but she nodded anyway.

And Ling turned back toward her laptop before anyone could see her grip the edge of the table again once the room was empty.

—

Orm had thought about that night at Gina's far more than she wanted to admit.

She thought about it during meetings when she was supposed to be paying attention. She thought about it while sitting in traffic, while brushing her teeth, while staring at the ceiling long after midnight when sleep refused to come. Every time her mind found a quiet moment, it drifted right back to Ling standing in front of her under the moonlight.

Back to the sound of her own voice.

Back to the look on Ling's face.

Back to the sharp crack of her palm connecting with Ling's cheek.

Orm hated how often she replayed it.

Hated how angry she still was.

Hated how hurt she still felt.

But most of all, she hated that beneath all of it, beneath the resentment and betrayal and heartbreak she had carried for more than a year, her heart still reacted to Ling the same way it always had.

It would have been easier if she had stopped loving her.

Easier if seeing Ling again had only made her angry.

Easier if the woman standing in front of her that night had been a stranger.

Instead, all it took was seeing Ling up close again, hearing her voice, watching her eyes, and Orm realized something she desperately wished was not true.

Her heart had never changed.

For a long time, it had been easier when Ling was only a theory. A memory. A person living somewhere else in the world that Orm never had to see. From that distance, she could tell herself she was healing. She could convince herself the hurt was fading. She could pretend that enough time had passed for her to move on.

But seeing Ling again had destroyed all of that.

Having Ling hurt her right in front of her face.

Having Ling look at her with those eyes.

Having Ling simply stand there.

That was all it took for Orm to realize she was still hopelessly in love with the most infuriating woman she had ever met.

And that realization came attached to another truth she could no longer ignore.

The guilt sat heavy in Orm's chest whenever she thought about it.

Aom deserved someone who could love her back without hesitation, someone who looked at her the way she looked at Orm and whose heart was entirely hers, not someone who was still carrying another woman inside it no matter how much time had passed.

And yet here they were, sitting across from each other at a restaurant Aom had chosen.

That had become their dynamic lately.

Aom would suggest a place.

Orm would agree.

Aom would pick the day and time.

Orm would agree.

Aom would ask what she wanted to eat.

Orm would tell her anything was fine.

And Aom accepted it all with a smile that somehow never faded.

The restaurant buzzed with the usual dinner crowd around them. Conversations blended together into background noise while servers moved between tightly packed tables carrying trays of food. The warm lighting gave everything a comfortable glow, but Orm felt strangely detached from all of it.

Across from her, Aom was in the middle of telling a story about her day.

Something about a coworker.

Something that had made her laugh.

Orm watched her as she spoke.

Watched the way her face lit up when she got excited.

Watched the way she smiled.

Watched the affection that still came so naturally whenever she looked at Orm.

And all Orm could feel was guilt.

Because Aom deserved a partner who met her with the same certainty she gave so freely.

Someone whose attention never drifted elsewhere.

Someone who could give her their whole heart instead of offering pieces of it while the rest remained hopelessly tied to someone else.

Before she could stop herself, the question slipped out.

“Aom, why are you with me?”

Aom’s knife paused halfway through cutting into her steak.

Slowly, she looked up.

“Because I love you.”

The answer came easily.

Too easily.

Like it had never been something she needed to think about.

But there was caution underneath it too. A quiet awareness that had not existed at the beginning of their relationship. The kind that came from learning which conversations could change everything.

Orm did not respond immediately.

Her fingers remained wrapped around the stem of her wine glass as she stared down into the dark red liquid.

Aom watched her carefully.

Waiting.

Eventually, Orm spoke.

“Even if you know I can’t return the same kind of love?”

The words settled heavily between them.

Aom’s expression did not change.

She set her utensils down slowly and folded her hands together on the table.

Across from her, Orm still had not looked up.

“I said it before and I meant it,” Aom said quietly. “I have enough love for the both of us.”

A slight furrow appeared between Orm’s brows, subtle enough to go unnoticed by most people but not by Aom.

“That’s not how relationships work.”

Aom smiled faintly.

“Maybe not.”

“No," Orm said softly. "Definitely not."

Aom looked down briefly before lifting her gaze again.

“But you chose me.”

Orm nodded.

“I did.”

Something flickered across Aom’s face.

Hope.

Fear.

Relief.

Orm could never quite tell the difference anymore.

Aom’s fingers tightened briefly before she smoothed the reaction away with a small smile, one that had begun to look increasingly practiced over the past few weeks.

“Then what are you trying to say?”

For a moment, the rest of the restaurant seemed to disappear, reduced to the muted clink of glasses, neighboring conversations, and soft music overhead.

Orm barely heard any of it.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Orm finally lifted her eyes, and Aom felt her breath catch at the exhaustion she found there, the look of someone who had spent months fighting a battle she already knew she would lose.

They stared at each other.

A few seconds.

Maybe less, but it felt much longer.

Then Orm said quietly:

“I know you know that I still love Ling.”

Aom’s smile faded slowly, not all at once but gradually, like sunlight slipping from a room, and for several seconds she said nothing.

Neither did Orm.

Because there was nothing left to reveal.

The truth had been sitting between them for months already.

Neither of them had just been willing to say it out loud.

After a long moment, Aom looked down at her half-eaten food and released a small, fragile laugh that seemed to break apart the moment it left her lips.

“You know,” she said softly, “when people talk about denial, they make it sound dramatic.”

Orm stayed silent while Aom traced the edge of her napkin with one finger.

“I thought it would feel like lying to myself.”

Her smile returned briefly.

Sad this time.

“But it didn't. It felt like hope.”

Orm’s chest tightened.

“Aom—”

“No.”

Aom shook her head gently.

Her eyes glistened under the restaurant lights, but she kept smiling anyway.

“Let me finish.”

Orm fell quiet immediately.

Aom took a slow breath.

“I knew from the beginning.”

The words hurt more than Orm expected.

“Maybe not the full extent of it. Maybe not how deep it went.” Aom laughed softly. “But I knew there was a reason everyone looked at the two of you the way they did.”

Orm looked away.

“I kept thinking eventually you would choose me completely.”

Aom's voice never rose.

Never cracked.

Somehow that made it worse.

“I thought if I loved you enough, if I was patient enough, eventually there wouldn't be room for anyone else.”

She smiled again, this time at herself.

“I think I confused being chosen with being loved.”

Orm felt something painful twist beneath her ribs.

Because Aom was not mistaken. She had been chosen, again and again, every day for months, and somehow it still had never been enough.

“I’m sorry. I wanted it to be enough,” Orm whispered.

Aom finally looked at her.

“I know.”

What hurt most was the absence of anger.

Aom sounded as though she had already made peace with this, already mourned it, long before Orm found the words to say it aloud.

And suddenly Orm hated that over everything else.

Because Aom deserved someone who would fight for her.

Someone who would look at her and feel certainty.

Someone who would not sit across from her at dinner looking guilty for loving somebody else.

Someone who would never make her settle for half of a heart.

And Orm had never been that person.

Silence stretched between them until Orm began to wonder if the conversation was over, but then Aom took a slow breath and looked up.

“Are you sure about this?”

Orm looked at her and Aom held her gaze this time.

Aom looked impossibly tired, stripped of anger and tears until only exhaustion remained.

“Because if this is about Ling...” Aom swallowed once. “If you're leaving me because you want to be with her now that she’s back, then just say it.”

The words landed heavily between them.

Orm stared at her for several seconds before slowly shaking her head.

“No.”

Aom looked unconvinced.

“Orm.”

“No,” Orm repeated softly. “Not for Ling.”

For the first time that night, Orm felt certain, not because it hurt any less or became any easier, but because it was finally honest.

Aom watched her carefully.

“Then why?”

Orm looked down at the wine glass in her hands.

The dark red liquid shifted slightly as she turned it.

“I spent so much time convincing myself that choosing you was enough. I thought if I kept choosing you every day, eventually everything else would fall into place.”

Aom's chest tightened.

“But it didn't.”

Orm laughed softly beneath her breath.

There was no humor in the sound.

“Nothing ever felt natural.”

The words settled heavily in the space between them, raw enough to hurt and honest enough to matter.

“I kept comparing everything without meaning to.” Orm swallowed. “Every conversation. Every moment. Every good thing that happened.”

She lifted her eyes again.

“And that's not fair to you.”

Aom looked away quietly. She had known for a long time, but knowing and hearing it spoken aloud were two very different things.

“I kept waiting for things to feel the way they were supposed to feel,” Orm continued quietly. “That if I kept choosing you every day, eventually my heart would catch up, and then I’d…”

Her voice trailed away quietly, but the truth remained between them all the same: she had waited, and it had never happened.

“I know.”

Aom's voice was barely above a whisper.

Orm nodded.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Aom asked the question anyway.

“So what now?”

Orm felt something loosen inside her chest. The pain remained as sharp as ever, but for the first time in a long time, she no longer felt at war with herself.

“I don't know.”

Aom let out a weak laugh.

“That's reassuring.”

A small smile appeared on Orm's face before disappearing just as quickly.

Then she grew serious again.

“But I know this isn't about choosing Ling.”

Aom stayed silent.

“It's about choosing myself.”

The words surprised even Orm a little.

Because she had spent so much of her life choosing everyone else.

Choosing what people expected.

Choosing what was practical.

Choosing what hurt the least.

“This is the first time I've stopped pretending everything is okay when it isn't.”

Her throat tightened.

“I love Ling.”

The truth still hurt.

“But even if Ling didn't exist, this still wouldn't be right.”

Aom's eyes flickered and somehow that hurt even more.

Because it meant this wasn't a competition she had lost.

It was a relationship that had never truly been whole.

“I can't keep forcing something that doesn't come naturally,” Orm whispered. “Not to you. Not to myself.”

Silence settled between them.

Then Aom slowly nodded.

Not because she liked the answer.

Not because it hurt any less.

But because for the first time since this conversation started, she believed Orm was telling the complete truth.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of all.

The honesty had arrived only after everything was already over.

Aom sat quietly for a moment and then smiled.

“We can still be friends.”

The offer lingered between them.

Orm held her gaze for a few seconds before slowly shaking her head.

“No.”

Aom's smile faltered slightly.

“I think it would be better if we weren't.”

Orm's voice remained gentle.

“At least not right now.”

Aom's gaze dropped to the table before she nodded. Friendship would only become another form of waiting, and they had both already spent enough time doing that.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I figured that's what you'd say.”

Silence settled between them one last time, neither trying to take back what had been said because there was nothing left to fix and nothing left to explain.

Eventually, Orm reached for her purse and stood.

Aom looked up.

Their eyes met across the table.

For a moment, Orm almost said she was sorry again.

For not loving her.

For trying.

For waiting too long to admit the truth.

But none of those apologies would change anything now.

So instead, she offered Aom a small smile.

Aom returned it.

“Take care of yourself,” Aom said softly.

Orm swallowed once before nodding.

“You too.”

Then she turned and walked away.

The sound of the restaurant returned gradually as she crossed the room, conversations blending with the clinking of glasses and quiet music drifting overhead.

She never looked back.

And neither did Aom.

—

* Orm’s POV *

The conversation at the restaurant left Orm feeling lighter than she had in a very long time.

Which was strange considering it had ended a relationship.

There was nothing easy about sitting across from someone who loved her and admitting she could never love them back. There was nothing pleasant about watching the hurt settle across Aom's face or walking away knowing she had become another person Aom would eventually have to heal from.

And yet, the days afterward felt different. Not happier, but lighter, as though she had been carrying something for so long that she had forgotten what it felt like to finally put it down.

Life quickly settled back into its familiar rhythm of work, home, and work again, but for the first time in months, Orm found herself moving through it without the same weight pressing against her chest.

The endless cycle repeated exactly as it always had, but there was a quietness inside her now that hadn't existed before.

For the first time in months, Orm felt honest, even when the honesty hurt.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Without thinking, she pulled out her phone. Another notification from the group chat flashed across the screen, and after staring at it for a few seconds, Orm sighed and locked the device again.

Weeks had passed since that night at Gina's house, since half their friend group had accidentally overheard her life imploding in the backyard, and for some reason, Orm still could not bring herself to respond to any of them.

Part of it was embarrassment.

She had not exactly been subtle, and there was a very good chance everyone already knew exactly what had happened.

Another part of her was simply exhausted. Exhausted by concerned looks, by people trying to fix situations that did not need fixing, and by conversations that somehow always circled back to the same questions.

Are you okay? What happened? How are you feeling?

They sounded harmless enough until she found herself answering them over and over again.

The truth was she did not know how she felt. Relieved. Sad. Guilty. Lonely. Free. Somehow all of those emotions existed at once, tangled together in a way she could not begin to explain, and she was tired of trying to package something so complicated into neat little answers for other people.

Mostly, though, she was not ready for that look. The one people got whenever she told them something painful. The mixture of pity and concern that always seemed well-intentioned yet somehow left her regretting that she had opened up in the first place.

So she ignored the messages, ignored the missed calls, and ignored Gina’s increasingly threatening texts that promised bodily harm if Orm continued disappearing. And for a while, that worked.

Until one random night when sleep refused to come.

Orm lay awake staring at her ceiling for nearly an hour before finally giving up on sleep. The city was quiet when she stepped outside, cooler than usual, with the kind of night air that made everything feel softer around the edges and a little less overwhelming than it had during the day.

She shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking without any real destination in mind. At least, that was what she told herself. It was not until nearly twenty minutes later that she realized exactly where her feet had taken her.

The park.

Orm stopped near the entrance, her chest tightening almost immediately.

Because of course it was this place.

The same park where she and Ling had spent countless nights talking about everything and nothing. The same park where they promised to always be each other's safe zone no matter what happened. The same park where Orm had watched Ling cry and walked away anyway.

The memory hit as sharply as ever.

Time had dulled many things, softened old wounds and blurred details she once thought she would never forget, but that night remained painfully clear.

Orm swallowed hard before continuing forward.

Maybe she should leave. Maybe coming here had been a mistake.

But there was comfort in familiarity too, and right now familiarity felt easier than going home, climbing back into bed, and spending another hour staring at the ceiling while her thoughts refused to quiet down.

Unfortunately, peace did not seem to be what the universe had planned for her that night.

Because stretched across one of the double slides was the last person she expected to see.

Orm stopped immediately.

Her eyes widened.

For one ridiculous second, she considered turning around and pretending she had never come here at all.

Slowly, carefully, she took a step backward.

Then another.

Needing distance.

Needing escape.

Needing to leave before Ling noticed she was there.

Except Ling chose that exact moment to turn her head.

Their eyes met.

And judging by the look of complete surprise on Ling's face, neither of them had expected this reunion any more than the other.

Ling stood up so quickly she nearly stumbled.

"ORM! Wait, please!"

Orm's entire body tensed at the sound of Ling calling her name, but she turned and kept walking.

In fact, she walked faster.

The distance between them had barely existed for a few seconds before Orm was already trying to put more of it there, her heart pounding with a mixture of panic and frustration that she hated herself for feeling.

She should leave.

That was the obvious choice.

The smart choice.

The choice she would have made if Ling were anybody else.

But then Ling called her name again.

And somehow that was enough to make Orm's steps gradually slow despite every logical part of her screaming not to stop.

By the time she finally came to a halt, she was already angry at herself for it.

Because even after everything that had happened between them, even after all the hurt and all the months spent trying to move on, Ling still had the ability to make her hesitate when nobody else could.

Orm kept her back firmly turned as she stood there waiting, refusing to look over her shoulder and refusing to give Ling the satisfaction of knowing she still affected her at all.

A few seconds later she heard hurried footsteps approaching from behind.

Then breathing.

Heavy.

Uneven.

Ling stopped several feet away.

Close enough for Orm to know she was there.

Far enough to respect the distance.

"I'm sorry."

The words came out breathless.

Almost strained.

Orm frowned.

It was not that far from the playground.

Not nearly enough to leave someone sounding exhausted.

For a brief moment confusion flickered through her irritation.

Then the apology registered.

And suddenly the confusion disappeared beneath a wave of anger.

Of course.

Another apology.

Always another apology without an explanation.

Orm let out a bitter laugh.

"Is that all you know how to say?"

The silence behind her was immediate.

"If that's all, then don't bother."

Her voice came out sharper than she intended, months of hurt compressed into a single sentence.

"I'm tired of hearing empty apologies."

Without waiting for a response, Orm started walking again.

The gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she forced herself forward, determined not to stop this time.

"Please... Orm... I..."

Ling's voice sounded strained and uneven, as though every word was being dragged out of her with effort.

Orm's jaw tightened and a bitter laugh escaped her.

"I've given you so many chances to explain."

Her voice shook with anger.

"You had so much time, Ling. So much time. Even now, you still can't say anything."

Orm swallowed hard. The familiar disappointment clawed its way back into her chest.

"I should've known better."

Silence.

Nothing.

No attempt to stop her.

And somehow that made Orm even angrier.

Because how could Ling chase after her, ask her to wait, make her stop walking away, only to stand there saying absolutely nothing that mattered?

What was the point?

What was the point of any of this?

Several more seconds passed.

All Orm knew was that she had finally had enough. She had spent the last year and a half trying to understand Ling's disappearance, trying to make sense of unanswered questions, and waiting for an explanation that never came.

If Ling had nothing to say, then Orm was not wasting another second standing here hoping she suddenly would.

So she continued walking.

One step.

Then another.

Then another.

Ling wasn't calling after her anymore.

Wasn't following her.

Wasn't saying anything at all.

The thought made her chest ache and irritated her in equal measure.

Of course.

Of course Ling had nothing to say.

Of course she had stopped trying.

Orm clenched her jaw.

She was not going to turn around because there was no reason to. Nothing would be different, and nothing would change.

She repeated the thought to herself with every step she took.

But her stupid heart had always been weaker when it came to Ling and before she could stop herself, Orm spun around, anger already rising to her lips.

Except Ling wasn't standing there.

Orm's stomach dropped.

Her eyes darted across the pathway before settling on the ground, and the fear that followed was immediate and overwhelming.

"Ling?"

Ling lay unnaturally still on the pavement, her face turned sideways with one cheek pressed against the ground, and suddenly Orm was moving before her mind could catch up with what she was seeing.

"Ling?"

Nothing.

No movement.

No response.

The panic in her chest exploded.

"LING? LING!"

Orm broke into a run.

By the time she reached her, her hands were already shaking.

She dropped to her knees beside Ling and carefully rolled her over.

The second she did, her heart nearly stopped.

Ling's face was pale.

Far too pale.

And when Orm grabbed her shoulders and pulled her partially into her lap, Ling's body went limp without the slightest resistance.

"No. No, no, no..."

She shook Ling lightly, her movements cautious despite the growing terror clawing at her chest.

"Ling!"

Nothing.

"Ling, wake up!"

Nothing.

The emptiness of the park hit her all at once. Orm's gaze raced from the pathways to the benches and then the playground, searching for anyone, but the late hour had left the entire place deserted.

Her heart hammered violently against her ribs.

She could barely hear anything over the rushing sound in her ears.

With trembling fingers, Orm fumbled for her phone and dialed emergency services, never once taking her eyes off Ling's face.

The operator answered.

Orm barely registered the voice.

Words tumbled out of her mouth as she gave their location.

Her grip on Ling's shoulder never loosened, driven by a sudden, irrational fear that letting go would mean losing her.

Tears blurred her vision before she even realized she was crying.

"Ling…"

Her voice cracked.

"Please wake up."

Ling remained completely still.

And for the first time in a very long time, Orm felt truly terrified.

—

Orm sat curled into herself in one of the waiting room chairs, her knees pulled tightly against her chest as she stared at the hallway where Ling had disappeared.

The hospital had been a blur.

Paramedics.

Questions.

Bright lights.

Doctors taking over the second they arrived.

One moment Ling had been in her arms at the park, frighteningly still and unresponsive, and the next she was being wheeled through hospital doors while strangers rushed around her.

Orm had barely managed to keep up.

The only thing she clearly remembered was reaching for her phone with shaking hands and calling Junji.

She had not known who else to call.

She did not know any of Ling's contacts.

Did not know her family.

Did not know who was supposed to be contacted when something like this happened.

So she had called the only person she could think of.

And despite the panic in Orm's voice, Junji had not asked questions.

She had not hesitated.

She had simply said she was coming.

Now Orm sat alone beneath harsh fluorescent lights that seemed far too bright for a night like this.

Her eyes remained fixed on the hallway.

Waiting.

Watching.

Hoping.

Every few seconds she convinced herself she heard footsteps approaching.

Every few seconds disappointment followed.

The memory replayed endlessly behind her eyes. Ling's strained voice calling after her. The silence that followed. The irritation that had built with every step she took. Then turning around and finding Ling lying motionless on the pavement. Every replay ended the same way, and somehow each one felt worse than the last.

No matter how hard Orm tried to think about something else, her mind dragged her back there.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each replay felt worse than the last.

Because every version ended the same way.

Ling wasn't moving.

The doctors had not told her anything yet.

Nobody had.

And the absence of information was allowing her imagination to become cruel.

What if Ling didn't make it?

The thought arrived suddenly.

Violently.

Orm sucked in a shaky breath.

No.

No.

She could not think that way.

But the thought had already rooted itself inside her chest.

What if Ling didn't wake up?

What if the last thing Ling remembered was Orm turning her back on her?

What if the last thing Ling heard was anger?

What if the last thing Ling carried with her was the sound of Orm telling her she should have known better?

Orm squeezed her eyes shut as her chest tightened so painfully it became difficult to breathe.

She could live without Ling in her life. She hated it, resented it, and had spent the last year and a half grieving it, but she had survived.

What she could not survive was the thought of a world without Ling in it at all.

A world where her laugh existed only in memory, where her voice could never be heard again, where she would never unexpectedly appear somewhere and make Orm's heart stumble despite herself.

The thought of Ling simply ceasing to exist broke something inside her that she was not sure could ever be repaired.

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

She buried her face against her knees and cried harder.

The sound of hurried footsteps barely registered until a familiar voice cut through everything.

"ORM!"

Orm's head snapped up.

The second she saw Junji, whatever composure she had been desperately holding onto completely disappeared.

The sight of Junji was enough to break the last thing holding Orm together. Her face crumpled instantly as a broken sob escaped her, and moments later she was being pulled into Junji's arms. The familiar warmth and safety of the embrace undid her completely.

Orm found herself clinging to Junji as though she were the only solid thing left in a world that had suddenly become terrifyingly uncertain. Junji's arms tightened around her immediately, holding her through every sob as if she could somehow shield her from the nightmare unfolding around them.

"It's okay."

Junji's voice cracked halfway through the words.

"It's okay. She'll be okay."

But Junji was crying too.

Orm could feel her shaking.

Could hear it in her voice.

And somehow that made everything worse.

Because Junji was scared too.

Junji buried her face briefly against Orm's hair.

"It's okay," she whispered again. "She's strong. She’s going to be okay."

Orm wanted to believe her.

God, she wanted to believe her.

But fear had already wrapped itself around every corner of her heart.

Orm was so focused on Ling that she did not even notice there was someone else standing behind Junji until a shaky voice, thick with fear, finally spoke.

"What..."

The voice broke.

"What happened?"

Orm froze.

Her breath caught instantly.

For a moment, the reality of who was standing there slammed into her all at once.

Jane.

Ling's fiancée or wife.

Ling's future.

Ling's person.

But before the thought could fully settle, Ling's pale face flashed through her mind again.

Ling lying motionless on the pavement.

Ling not waking up.

Ling barely breathing.

A strangled sob escaped Orm.

She buried herself deeper into Junji's chest.

Unable to look at either of them.

Unable to look at anyone.

"She..." Orm's voice cracked immediately. "She just..." Her breathing became uneven as she tried to force the words out, but nothing seemed to come out right.

"We were at the park and I..."

Orm shook her head desperately, trying to gather her thoughts and failing every time.

"I don't know. She just... she was there and I was leaving and then..."

Her chest heaved painfully.

"She called after me and then she..." Her voice broke again. "She was talking and then she wasn't and I turned around and..." The rest vanished beneath another sob.

"I don't know."

She covered her face.

"I don't know."

The guilt was suffocating.

Because none of it made sense.

Because she should have noticed something was wrong.

Because she should have turned around sooner.

Because she should have done something.

Anything.

Junji immediately tightened her hold around Orm.

"Hey."

Her voice shook.

"This isn't your fault."

But Orm barely heard her.

Across from them, Jane stood frozen as tears streamed silently down her face, and when her eyes met Junji's for a brief second, the look they shared seemed to carry an entire conversation neither of them wanted to have.

Something passed between them.

Something that made Junji's expression crumble.

When Junji looked back at Orm, fresh tears filled her eyes.

And suddenly Orm felt sick because Junji looked heartbroken.

Not scared nor worried.

Heartbroken.

"Orm..."

Junji's voice was barely above a whisper.

"There’s… There’s something we have to tell you."