Work Text:
7 years old
The sky was a blanket of thick, dark clouds, casting an eerie shadow over the world below. The air was heavy with the scent of rain, and soon enough, the heavens opened, unleashing a torrent of cold, relentless drops. Thunder roared in the distance, each clap echoing through the streets, and the occasional flash of lightning illuminated the stormy afternoon.
Orm stood by the window, her heart sinking with each crack of thunder. She despised the rain, not for its chill or the gloomy atmosphere it brought, but for how hard it was for her to see. The water would splatter onto her glasses, streaking and fogging them until she couldn’t see a thing.
She sighed, wiping her glasses for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Orm had been born with poor eyesight, a fact she had grown to accept, but it didn’t make wearing the thick, clunky lenses any easier. Those glasses had become a part of her identity, though not by choice. They were large and heavy, with lenses so thick they distorted her eyes, making them appear much larger than they were. Her classmates, cruel children, never missed an opportunity to mock her. The taunts echoed in her mind like the distant rumble of thunder outside. They called her names—“four eyes,” “goggles”—always laughing, always pointing.
Orm had learned to keep her head down, to avoid their gaze as much as she could. But the rain... the rain made that impossible. It blurred the world, turning it into a distorted, frightening place where every step felt uncertain, every sound more threatening. And so, on days like this, she felt even more vulnerable, trapped behind her foggy lenses, trying to navigate a world that never seemed to care how hard it was for her to see clearly.
Her umbrella was missing again. And by missing, Orm knew all too well what that meant—one of her classmates had hidden it, likely on purpose, as part of their usual cruel pranks. She had spent the past several minutes searching the usual hiding spots, but there was no sign of it. Now, she stood at the doorway of the school building, staring out at the downpour that separated her from the gates, where the car that would take her home was waiting. Without her umbrella, there was no avoiding it—she was going to get soaked.
Orm let out a deep, frustrated sigh, resigned to her fate. She adjusted her glasses, which were already beginning to fog from the humidity, and glanced nervously at the sky. The rain was relentless, pounding against the pavement like tiny fists. Bracing herself, she hoisted her school bag over her head in a desperate attempt at shelter, knowing it wouldn’t be enough, and then made a dash for it.
The rain was ice-cold and merciless. Within seconds, her uniform was soaked through, clinging uncomfortably to her skin. Droplets splattered across her glasses, making it almost impossible to see. The school gates, normally a clear and welcoming sight, now appeared as a distant blur, wavering through the curtain of rain and her fogged lenses. Her heart raced as she pushed forward, trying to ignore the cold seeping into her bones.
But just as she thought she might make it, she heard a noise behind her—voices. She hadn’t realized anyone else was there, too focused on getting to the gates. Before she could even turn around, she felt a sudden, forceful shove from behind. Her feet slipped on the wet ground, and with a gasp, she tumbled forward, her hands outstretched to catch herself.
The impact was harsh and unforgiving, the cold ground soaking her even further. Pain shot through her palms and knees as she hit the pavement, her bag tumbling from her head and landing in the mud beside her. For a moment, she lay there, stunned, the world around her spinning.
Then, through the pounding rain, she heard it—the unmistakable sound of laughter. Familiar, mocking laughter. The voices of her classmates echoed in her ears, cruel and unrelenting. They had been behind her the whole time, watching her struggle, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Orm's heart sank as their jeers cut through the storm, as sharp and painful as the fall itself.
"Look at her, she looks like a frog!" one of the boys bellowed, his voice rising above the patter of rain. The circle of children erupted into laughter, their cruel voices mixing with the thunder in the distance.
"She looks scary! She might bite us!" added a girl, her words laced with mock fear as she shrank back dramatically, drawing more laughter from the others.
Orm was still on her knees, the cold, wet ground seeping through her uniform, her hands trembling from both the chill and the humiliation. The children surrounded her, forming a tight circle that felt more like a cage. They loomed over her, their taunts sharp as knives, jabbing at her with each jeering word. Though the tears streamed down her face, blending with the pouring rain, it was impossible to tell where the raindrops ended and her sorrow began. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest.
She hated school. More than anything. It wasn’t just the lessons, the pressure, or the long days—it was moments like this, where she felt utterly powerless, crushed beneath the cruelty of others.
Taking a deep breath, Orm tried to rise to her feet, her knees shaky, her glasses smeared with droplets that made everything around her a blurry haze. But just as she managed to steady herself, one of the girls shoved her back down. She stumbled, her palms scraping the cold pavement as she fell, and once again, the circle erupted in laughter, the sound cruel and sharp, echoing in her ears like thunder.
Then, through the mocking voices, came a loud, booming shout: "Hey! Stay away from her!"
The voice was strong, cutting through the noise like a lightning strike, and it silenced the laughter in an instant. Orm blinked through the fog of her glasses, her vision too blurred to make out much, but she could see a figure standing just beyond the circle.
Before she could react, the person had already moved to her side, shoving the other kids back with surprising force. "I said, stay away from her!" the voice boomed again, firm and unwavering. Orm couldn't make out the face properly, but she could hear the intensity behind the broken Thai accent—a voice that was both fierce and protective.
The group of kids recoiled, their taunts dying in their throats as they retreated. One by one, they stepped back, unsure of how to react to the sudden intrusion.
And then, just as quickly as the rain had soaked her, Orm realized she was no longer feeling the cold drops against her skin. She glanced up, her heart pounding, and saw someone kneeling beside her, holding an umbrella over her head. The rain pattered softly against the fabric of the umbrella, creating a small, dry refuge in the middle of the storm.
The figure leaned down, their eyes soft but determined. "Are you okay?" she asked gently. Orm could barely make out their face, but through the blurry lenses of her glasses, she could see the outline of someone looking down at her with concern, shielding her from both the rain and the cruelty of the world around her.
Orm nodded, her body still trembling slightly as she reached out and took her savior's extended hand. With a gentle pull, she stood up, her legs unsteady beneath her. The girl beside her immediately wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, guiding her forward with surprising warmth and familiarity. Together, they started walking toward the school gate.
"My name is Lingling," the girl said softly, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain. "What's yours?"
Orm blinked, still struggling to see through her rain-splattered and foggy glasses. The girl's features were little more than a blur—just a silhouette of kindness in a storm that had, moments ago, felt overwhelming. "My name is Orm," she replied, her voice quiet, a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude.
They reached the gate, and Orm spotted the familiar sight of the Kornnaphat family car waiting for her. The driver, noticing her arrival, quickly stepped out of the vehicle, pulling out a large umbrella. He hurried over, draping it above Orm to shield her from the remaining rain, while offering a polite nod to the girl beside her.
As the driver opened the car door, Lingling gave Orm a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Take care, Orm," she said with a smile, her voice warm and friendly. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow." There was a sense of certainty in her words, as if she had already decided that tomorrow, and the days after, Orm wouldn’t be alone. Orm suddenly felt a gentle hand grasp her own Lingling placed something soft into her palm. Orm looked down, and she had to scrunch her eyes—there, resting in her hand, was a flower. A lily.
Orm nodded in response, feeling a wave of emotion she couldn’t quite describe. She stepped into the car, and as the driver closed the door behind her, the world seemed to quiet down. Inside, it was dry and warm, a stark contrast to the storm raging outside.
Finally, she took off her glasses, wiping away the droplets and cleaning them carefully. When she put them back on, the world came into focus again. She could now see clearly through the window—the figure of Lingling standing just outside, smiling brightly and waving at her.
What Orm didn’t know at that moment, as she watched the girl disappear into the distance, was that Lingling wasn’t just another new face at school. She would soon become a close and loyal friend, someone who would stand by her side in the days ahead—rain or shine.
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16 years old
Puberty had worked its magic on Orm. Gone were the days of being the small, fragile girl with oversized glasses. Now, she had blossomed into a tall, elegant young woman with a model-like figure that turned heads everywhere she went. Boys at school, the same ones who once mocked her, were now lining up for the chance to ask her to prom. But despite the admiration from others, Orm stood in front of her mirror and sighed deeply. She was going to prom tonight, but she wasn’t happy with what she saw.
"What's wrong?" her friend Suzie asked, concern in her voice as she glanced over at Orm.
"I feel fat in this dress," Orm moaned, tugging at the fabric as if willing it to fit her differently.
"Nonsense!" Sonya retorted, standing nearby with her arms crossed, clearly not buying Orm's self-criticism. Despite their words of encouragement, Orm couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling as she continued to stare at her reflection. Her makeup was perfect, the dress fit well, and yet she couldn’t silence the nagging voice of doubt in her mind.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang, cutting through Orm's thoughts. The girls exchanged glances, startled by the unexpected sound.
"They're already here?" Sonya asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Orm grabbed her phone, her heart sinking as she realized their dates had arrived a full hour early. She barely had time to process it before footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the door creaked open. But instead of their prom dates, in walked Lingling.
"Lingling Kwong!" Orm shrieked, her face lighting up with a wide grin. Without hesitation, she rushed across the room and threw her arms around Lingling, who laughed and returned the embrace. Suzie and Sonya exchanged amused glances, grinning at the sight of their friend.
"I just finished practice, I probably smell," Lingling joked, but Orm didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Over the years, the bond between Orm and Lingling had only deepened. They had grown inseparable, navigating high school together as best friends. They shared the same group of friends, spent almost all their free time together, and supported each other through everything. Lingling had joined the track team, while Orm had found her place as a cheerleader, but despite their busy schedules, they never drifted apart.
"Please come with us to prom," Orm pleaded, pulling back from the hug with a hopeful expression.
Lingling laughed, shaking her head. "No way am I joining you and Fishboy."
Everyone knew Lingling wasn't fond of Orm's boyfriend, Kris, who is captain of the swim team. She never liked him being around Orm, and whenever he was, it was impossible not to notice Lingling sulking in the background. She had never been shy about her disapproval, though she never fully explained why she disliked Kris so much. Orm had tried to brush it off as protectiveness, but there was an unspoken tension whenever Kris was involved.
Orm pouted, but deep down, she knew Lingling wouldn’t come, especially not with Kris around. Still, having her best friend by her side for just this moment before prom was enough to lift her spirits.
"I got you this," Lingling said softly, pulling a delicate lily flower from behind her back and holding it out toward Orm. The simple gesture made Orm’s heart skip a beat as Lingling smiled, her eyes gentle. "I thought it would go perfectly with your dress for prom."
Orm’s breath caught as she gently took the lily from Lingling’s hand, feeling the softness of the petals between her fingers. She stared at Lingling with a warmth she couldn’t quite describe, her eyes lingering on her friend’s face longer than usual. The room seemed to still for a moment, as if the world outside had vanished, leaving just the two of them.
"You do know her date should be giving her a flower," Sonya grinned from across the room, her tone light but teasing. "Maybe you should be taking Orm to prom instead of Kris," Suzie added with a wink, unable to resist joining in the playful banter.
Lingling’s cheeks flushed a bright red, and she took a step back, clearly caught off guard by the teasing. Orm couldn’t help but smile, watching the color rise in Lingling’s face. It was rare to see her flustered, and Orm found it utterly endearing. There was something about seeing Lingling, usually so composed, go red that made Orm’s heart swell. They stood there, almost lost in their own bubble, as the teasing from their friends faded into the background.
But the spell was broken as the doorbell rang again, loud and sharp, followed by Orm’s mother calling from downstairs. "Girls, your dates are here!" she announced.
Sonya and Suzie squealed, the excitement of prom night getting the best of them as they hurried toward the door, but Orm barely moved. Her eyes were still locked on Lingling. The joyful noise of her friends seemed distant, almost irrelevant, as Orm noticed the small frown that had begun to form on Lingling’s face. It was a subtle expression, but one that spoke volumes. Orm knew Lingling too well not to recognize it—she hated making Lingling feel this way.
"He’s waiting," Lingling said softly, her voice heavy with an emotion she was trying hard to hide.
"Come with me," Orm replied instantly, the words slipping out before she could even think about them. There was a sincerity, a plea in her voice that surprised even her.
Lingling chuckled, breaking the intensity of the moment as she looked down, avoiding Orm’s gaze. But before she could pull away completely, she reached out and intertwined her fingers with Orm’s, holding her hand tightly. "You really do look beautiful," Lingling murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "All eyes will be on you.”
Orm felt a rush of warmth, her heart thudding in her chest as she stepped closer. Without thinking, she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Lingling’s cheek, lingering just a moment longer than she probably should have. Lingling’s skin was warm beneath her lips, and the brief intimacy of the moment made Orm’s pulse quicken.
But before she could say anything, Sonya and Suzie grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward the front door. The moment passed in a blur of excited shrieks and laughter, but as Orm was swept away, she glanced back one last time. Lingling stood there her hand raised in a small wave. There was a sad smile on her face, one that tugged at Orm’s heart, and for a moment, it felt like the distance between them wasn’t just physical.
It’s funny how movies and TV shows paint prom night as this magical, dream-come-true evening—a night filled with romance, glamour, and unforgettable memories. But reality, as Orm and her friends were quickly realizing, couldn’t have been further from that fantasy.
Orm hated it. And so did her friends.
The night had quickly spiraled into chaos. Someone had spiked the punch bowl early in the evening, and what was supposed to be a fun, elegant event had devolved into something resembling a bad teen movie. Their dates, barely coherent, were too high on marijuana to be of any use, stumbling around and mumbling incoherently. The teachers, who were meant to be supervising, were running ragged, trying and failing to keep order. They dashed between groups of students, some of whom were throwing up in corners while others were causing more of a ruckus than they could handle.
The music, once lively and fun, had turned into a background hum as the evening descended into chaos. Orm, Sonya, and Suzie shared a collective look of disgust, the disappointment written across their faces. This wasn’t the prom they had imagined. It wasn’t even close. They’d tried to stick it out, hoping things would get better, but as the night wore on, it became clear that no amount of wishful thinking would salvage the evening.
Finally, they’d had enough. With a collective sigh of frustration, the girls made the decision to call it a night. There was no point staying in a situation that had long since lost its charm. Together, they walked out of the auditorium, the stuffy, booze-soaked air behind them replaced by the cool, refreshing breeze of the night.
Outside, they took deep breaths, savoring the clean air after being stuck inside the smelly, chaotic hall for hours. The night sky stretched out above them, vast and calm, a stark contrast to the madness they had just escaped. Orm checked her phone, seeing a string of messages she had been sending to Lingling throughout the night, updating her on the unfolding disasters.
A part of Orm wished she were anywhere but there—more specifically, she longed to be back in her room, curled up in Lingling’s arms. The warmth and comfort of her best friend seemed like the perfect antidote to this disappointing night. She smiled to herself, imagining the way Lingling would roll her eyes at the absurdity of it all, offering sarcastic comments but also a sense of comfort that Orm desperately craved.
The girls waited outside, huddled together beneath the night sky, chatting and laughing despite their evening being cut short. The driver was late, stuck in traffic, but that didn’t seem to bother them much. At least, for now, they were together, trying to make the best of what had been a disastrous prom. The cool air offered a reprieve from the chaos they had left behind, but their peaceful moment was shattered by the sight of Kris stumbling toward them.
His disheveled appearance was impossible to ignore. His hair was a mess, his shirt untucked, and his steps unsteady. "Where... where are you going?" Kris slurred, his voice thick with the unmistakable edge of too much alcohol. His eyes were bloodshot, his breath reeked of booze, and Orm’s stomach churned with disgust as she watched him approach.
Orm instinctively stepped away from her circle of friends to face him. The disappointment in her chest was heavy, and she could barely stand to look at him. "I'm going home," she said flatly, unable to mask the irritation in her voice. She had been disappointed before, but this—this reckless, sloppy version of him—was too much.
"No, it's prom night. You leave with me," Kris insisted, his voice growing more aggressive as he tried to steady himself, nearly losing his balance in the process. He staggered toward Orm, his movements slow and uncoordinated, but his intentions clear. Orm stared at him, her face tightening with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. How had she ever agreed to date him? The thought sent a wave of regret through her.
Orm didn't bother replying. Kris wasn’t even in his right mind to have a conversation. She turned her back to him, intent on rejoining her friends, but before she could take a step, she felt his hand clamp down on her arm, harsh and unrelenting.
"No, I said you leave with me!" he shouted, pulling her roughly toward him. His grip was tight, too tight, and the pain shot up her arm as she struggled to pull away. His face twisted in anger, and in his drunken rage, his other hand shot up, gripping her throat. Orm’s heart raced with fear as she gasped, her hands instinctively trying to pry his fingers from her neck. She couldn't breathe, her mind reeling from the shock of what was happening.
But before she could even blink, the pressure around her throat vanished. Kris was suddenly yanked backward, his grip on her arm breaking, and in the next instant, she heard the sickening thud of a punch landing squarely on his face. Kris crumpled to the ground, clutching his face as blood trickled from his nose. Orm looked up, her vision blurred by the adrenaline, and saw Lingling standing over him, her chest heaving, her hand still clenched into a tight fist.
"Lingling?" Orm gasped, her voice shaky, her mind struggling to process what had just happened. What was she doing here? How had she even known?
Before she could think further, Kris groaned from the ground, struggling to stand. He spat curses, staggering as he tried to regain his balance. His nose was bleeding, and his expression twisted with anger as he lunged clumsily at Lingling, determined to retaliate. But his movements were slow, too slow, and Lingling easily dodged him, stepping to the side with fluid precision before delivering another swift punch to his jaw.
"Don't you dare touch her again," Lingling hissed, her voice low and venomous as she stood over him, her gaze filled with cold fury. She didn't flinch as Kris writhed in pain on the ground, too drunk and dazed to get back up.
Orm stood frozen, her heart racing and her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind of confusion and shock. Lingling’s protective stance, the intensity in her eyes—it was overwhelming.
Lingling approached Orm cautiously, the intensity in her eyes from moments ago now replaced with a softness and concern. Her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. “Are you okay?” she asked, her gaze searching Orm’s face for reassurance. But Orm couldn’t answer. She stood frozen, her eyes locked on Lingling, trying to process how she had even appeared there in the first place.
Lingling seemed to understand Orm’s unspoken confusion. “Remember Bow? My friend,” Lingling began, her tone calm as if she didn’t want to startle Orm. “He texted me, said Kris was giving you a hard time all night. I got worried, so I thought I’d just drop by to check on you.” There was a warmth in Lingling’s words, an undeniable care that only made the storm brewing inside Orm harder to control.
Orm’s mind raced, emotions stirring up in her chest, swirling with confusion, relief, and something else—a precise feeling she had been trying to bury for so long. A feeling she refused to acknowledge. She pushed it down again, harder this time, refusing to let it rise to the surface. She had to control herself. No, this wasn’t the time.
But instead of thanking Lingling or embracing her for stepping in, Orm lashed out, her words sharp and cutting. “There was no need for violence! Now how am I supposed to explain that he got beaten up?” Her voice was raised, tinged with frustration, though she barely knew why she was angry.
Lingling’s face shifted from confusion to surprise, her brows knitting together as she tried to comprehend Orm’s sudden change. “He was choking you, Orm,” Lingling said quietly, disbelief lacing her voice. “He was hurting you.”
“I had it handled,” Orm shot back quickly, the words slipping out before she could even think. She regretted them immediately. The second they left her lips, she saw the flicker of hurt in Lingling’s eyes. The tight knot in Orm’s chest grew tighter, guilt squeezing at her heart. Lingling had just saved her, and this was how she repaid her?
“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to,” Lingling murmured, taking a small step back, her expression now a mix of confusion and hurt.
Before Orm could respond, headlights appeared down the road, and her driver finally pulled up. She took the opportunity to walk toward the car, avoiding any further confrontation. She didn’t even look back at Lingling. Orm’s friends lingered for a moment, offering comforting words to Lingling before they, too, climbed into the car.
As Sonya slid into the seat beside Orm, she broke the silence with a disapproving tone. “That was really unnecessary.”
Suzie, sliding from the other side, nodded in agreement. “Lingling saved you,” she added, her voice softer, trying to reason with Orm.
But Orm ignored them. She couldn’t listen to their words, not now. She had to reply to Lingling the way she did—there was no other choice. If she hadn’t lashed out, if she hadn’t created that distance between them, she was terrified of what might happen. That feeling she’d been burying so deeply, the one she didn’t want to face—it would come rushing out, and she wasn’t ready for that.
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21 years old
There had been a noticeable shift in Lingling and Orm’s friendship after the prom night incident. They no longer felt as close as they once had, an unspoken distance now lingering between them. Where they used to hang out together alone, just the two of them, now it was always in the company of their group of friends—never the intimacy they once shared.
Whenever Orm had a new boyfriend or spent time with one of her boyfriends, Lingling was conspicuously absent. She wouldn’t show up, not even for casual meetups. And it wasn’t just the awkwardness of Orm’s relationships that had driven them apart. Their social class differences, something they had never really paid attention to before, became painfully evident as time went on.
Orm and all their close friends were accepted into a prestigious private university, something they had celebrated as a group. But Lingling didn’t make the cut for the scholarship she had applied for. Instead, she ended up at a nearby community college, a harsh contrast to the bright future Orm and the others seemed to be heading toward. It wasn’t just school, though. Lingling’s living situation had always been tough—she stayed with distant relatives in Thailand who made her pay rent, a burden that pushed her to take up a part-time job to make ends meet. Her mother, still back in Hong Kong, wasn’t in a position to help her much, leaving Lingling to fend for herself.
As a result, Lingling’s appearances in their group outings became more and more infrequent. The café trips, late-night hangouts, spontaneous shopping sprees—Lingling would rarely join in anymore. She couldn’t afford to. And while Orm didn’t reach out to Lingling directly, she couldn’t stop herself from checking in on her through their mutual friends—Sonya, Suzie, Bow, and Tan.
It was strange, Orm thought, how someone she had once seen every day now felt like a distant figure. Their interactions had dwindled to brief monthly catch-ups with the gorup at their usual coffee shop, where they would exchange polite conversation but never dig too deep. Orm often found herself thinking about how they got here—how they went from being inseparable to seeing each other as if they were mere acquaintances.
The weight of unspoken words hung between them during these meetups. It was as if they both knew something had changed, but neither wanted to confront it. The distance wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, and Orm couldn’t help but wonder if their friendship would ever be the same again.
Orm and the group were packed into a car, cruising down the highway toward Suzie’s parents' beach house for a weekend getaway. With finals looming just around the corner, they all needed a break, and the beach seemed like the perfect escape. The sound of the radio hummed in the background, filling the car with light chatter and laughter.
Suddenly, Tan’s voice boomed from the back seat, his face lighting up as he snapped his phone shut. “Guess who's joining us!” he shouted, unable to contain his excitement. Everyone’s attention shifted to him, and Sonya instinctively turned down the radio as they all leaned in, curious.
“Lingling is coming!” Tan announced with a broad smile.
“Good,” Bow chimed in from the passenger seat, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “That woman needs to destress.”
Orm smiled softly at the news. It had been three long weeks since she last saw Lingling. The memory of their last encounter was brief—a fleeting thirty minutes at the coffee shop. Lingling had been in a rush, and they hadn’t spoken much beyond a quick exchange of smiles as she hurried out. That small, distant smile still lingered in Orm’s mind. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her until now. The thought of being stuck in a beach house with Lingling for two whole days stirred a flicker of hope inside her. Maybe this would be the chance to rekindle the closeness they once had. Orm was hopeful, but there was also a knot of uncertainty tightening in her chest.
"Who’s Lingling?” Charlotte’s voice cut through Orm’s thoughts, pulling her back to the present. Charlotte, Tan’s cousin, was tagging along for the trip. She was a model who had spent most of her life studying abroad, and her sleek, statuesque figure made Orm feel oddly self-conscious. Every time Orm stood next to Charlotte, she couldn’t help but compare herself, feeling a twinge of jealousy over how effortlessly perfect Charlotte seemed.
“She’s the last remaining piece of this group puzzle,” Suzie answered with a smirk, glancing back at Charlotte.
“You’re going to love her,” Sonya added, smiling. “She’s really chill. Totally down-to-earth.”
Orm wanted to say something, to add her own description of Lingling. So many words raced through her mind, so many memories they shared. How could she even begin to describe someone like Lingling? The girl who had always been there for her, who had stood up for her in ways no one else had. The girl who made her feel safe, even when everything else felt out of control. But the words caught in her throat.
Why couldn’t she say anything? Orm could feel the weight of those unsaid words pressing down on her. There were so many ways to describe Lingling Kwong—her kindness, her strength, her resilience—but none of it came out. Instead, Orm just sat there, smiling quietly to herself, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this trip would help bring them back together.
After arriving at the beach house, the group quickly settled into the vacation spirit—swimming in the ocean, lounging around, and sharing a casual dinner as the sun set over the horizon. But there was still no sign of Lingling. Orm, trying to hide her unease, quietly asked Tan where she was, but he only shrugged, giving a vague answer: "She'll be here late. You'll see her in the morning."
Morning arrived, and Orm was the first to wake from her group of friends. The house was peaceful in the early hours, the sound of waves faintly audible through the windows. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, still groggy but hoping to grab a quiet breakfast before everyone else woke up.
But as she entered the kitchen, her steps faltered. There, sitting at the table, were Charlotte and Lingling, laughing together over breakfast. The sight of them together, smiling so effortlessly, sent a jolt through Orm's chest.
“Morning, Orm!” Charlotte’s voice was cheery, but Orm barely registered the greeting. Her eyes were fixed on Lingling.
Lingling glanced up, meeting Orm’s gaze with a soft, familiar smile. “Morning,” she said, her voice gentle yet carrying a weight that seemed to anchor Orm in place. The moment hung between them, charged with the same unspoken tension that Orm had tried so hard to ignore.
“Do you want pancakes? Lingling just made some,” Charlotte offered, oblivious to the growing tension in Orm’s chest. “They’re really good.”
Orm’s heart pounded in her chest, her gaze still locked on Lingling. She felt the familiar rush of feelings she had buried for so long—feelings she refused to acknowledge. Lingling’s presence, her laugh, the casual way she moved about the kitchen... it all stirred something deep inside Orm, something she wasn’t ready to confront.
“They’re blueberry,” Lingling added, her voice quieter now, but steady. “Your favorite.” Their eyes met again, and for a brief second, it felt as if everything around them disappeared. Orm’s heart skipped a beat. She remembers my favorite? Orm thought, her pulse quickening as she fought to keep her composure.
The intensity of the moment was unbearable. Orm could barely contain the wave of emotions crashing over her—nostalgia, affection, confusion. All those feelings she had tried so hard to suppress were now threatening to surface, right here in the kitchen, where Charlotte sat smiling, blissfully unaware.
“No, thanks,” Orm said abruptly, tearing her gaze away from Lingling’s. “I’ll just have cereal.” Her voice sounded harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t help it. She turned quickly, her back to the table, grabbing a bowl from the counter. Her hands shook slightly as she poured cereal into the bowl, refusing to turn around, refusing to let herself see the expression on Lingling’s face. She couldn’t. She knew it would break her.
She hated this. She hated herself for the feelings she couldn’t control, for the way her chest tightened every time she saw Lingling, and most of all, for the way she couldn’t face any of it. The walls she had built around herself were crumbling, and it terrified her.
Orm couldn’t help but laugh at her own hypocrisy, though the laugh was bitter and silent, hidden beneath her composed exterior. She had come to the beach house with every intention of spending more time with Lingling—rekindling their once-close bond, maybe even finding the courage to confront the feelings she had buried for so long. But instead, she had done the exact opposite. She avoided Lingling at every opportunity, keeping her distance and, in a moment of self-sabotage, had even influenced her friends to throw a party. More people, more noise—anything to create a barrier between them.
Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the party was in full swing. The sound of the ocean mingled with laughter and music, and the air was heavy with the sweet smell of toasted marshmallows and the faint tang of wine. Some people were tipsy, their laughter a little too loud, echoing off the waves. Others huddled close to one another by the fire, lost in their own private worlds, marshmallows turning golden over the flames.
Orm glanced around the circle, scanning the faces, but her heart sank a little when she realized Lingling wasn’t among them. She hadn’t seen her since earlier in the afternoon. Had Lingling left already? The thought gnawed at her. She wanted to ask her friends, but she held back, knowing exactly what kind of response she would get—the same teasing, ridiculous looks they always gave her when Lingling was mentioned. "Just talk to her," they would say, as if it were that simple.
As Orm’s eyes continued to roam the group, she noticed something else—Charlotte was missing, too. Her stomach twisted involuntarily at the realization. No... they wouldn’t be together, would they? She shook her head, trying to banish the unwelcome thoughts that began creeping into her mind. Lingling wasn’t like that. Lingling wouldn’t—
But the thoughts were relentless, and Orm couldn’t stop the surge of irrational jealousy that bubbled up inside her. It was stupid, she told herself. Ridiculous. Lingling had never belonged to her. Lingling was just her friend. Nothing more. It was foolish to even entertain the idea that things could be different between them.
And yet, those thoughts—those unspoken feelings—clung to the corners of her mind like a shadow she couldn’t escape. Orm hated herself for it. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Lingling had her own life, her own friends, her own path. She wasn’t hers to claim, and Orm knew that better than anyone. But still, the ache in her chest persisted, no matter how hard she tried to push it away.
Orm’s eyes drifted back to the fire, watching the flames dance in the fading light. She should be enjoying herself, laughing along with her friends, but all she could think about was the empty space beside her—and the fact that it should have been filled by Lingling.
Time had slowed to a crawl. The warmth of the bonfire and the distant hum of laughter no longer comforted Orm; instead, it grated on her. She felt trapped—trapped by her own mind, by the growing uncertainty gnawing at her heart, and by the fact that Lingling still hadn’t returned. Every minute stretched endlessly, and all Orm wanted was reassurance. Reassurance that Lingling was fine. Reassurance that Lingling wasn’t with Charlotte. But hours passed, and the fire’s flames had dwindled into embers, casting weak, flickering shadows around the group still huddled nearby.
One by one, people started to head inside, retreating from the cold night air. Orm remained by the fire, staring at the dying glow, hoping—no, willing—Lingling to reappear. It was late, far too late now. As the last few embers began to fade, Sonya’s voice suddenly broke through the fog of Orm’s thoughts. “Aren’t you coming in? It’s freezing out here.”
The comment startled her. Orm blinked, realizing the sun had long since set, leaving her alone in the darkness. She hadn’t even noticed. Her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by the silence and unanswered questions swirling inside her. With a quiet nod to Sonya, she stood, her feet moving aimlessly as she walked back toward the beach house, though her mind was miles away, lost in the endless maze of thoughts about where Lingling was and why she hadn’t come back.
The house was lively when she stepped in, yet Orm felt detached from it all. The sound of laughter and music in the background was muted, muffled under the weight of her worry. She slumped onto the living room couch, her eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the wall. Minutes turned into hours, and soon the house fell quiet as everyone else went to bed. But Orm remained, unmoving. Waiting. Just waiting.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, lost in her thoughts, until the soft creak of the front door broke through her haze. Her heart skipped a beat. Orm shot up from the couch, turning quickly toward the door, hoping—no, praying—that it was Lingling.
But her hope shattered the moment she saw Charlotte standing in the doorway, her appearance disheveled. Her hair was tousled, sand clung to her skin, and she was leaning heavily against the wall, barely able to stand. A sinking feeling twisted in Orm’s gut, sharp and painful. This can’t be happening, she thought. It can’t be…
“Where were you?” Orm managed to ask, though her voice wavered, betraying the storm of emotions threatening to break free.
Charlotte grinned, a smug, almost careless smile. “I just had the best sex of my life,” she slurred, her words slow and taunting. “Your friend…” She trailed off, laughing to herself.
Orm’s gaze drifted to the hickey on Charlotte’s neck, and in that moment, the world seemed to tilt. Her stomach churned, nausea rising in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. The words Charlotte was saying became muffled noise, irrelevant to the whirlwind of thoughts crashing through her mind. Her vision blurred as the bitter truth sunk in.
Without another word, Orm grabbed her keys from the table, her hands trembling. She had to get out. The suffocating weight of everything was too much. The pain, the betrayal, the jealousy she had tried so hard to bury—all of it was bubbling up, threatening to break her. As she stormed out of the house, tears stinging her eyes, she came to an abrupt stop. Standing right there, just a few feet in front of her, was Lingling.
Lingling’s hair was messy, tangled with sand. There were faint smudges of lipstick on her skin, the same disheveled look as Charlotte. Orm’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She couldn’t bear to see Lingling like this. She couldn’t bear the idea of what had happened.
“Orm,” Lingling said surprised.
The sound of her name on Lingling’s lips was the final crack. Orm’s vision blurred with tears, and before she could stop herself, she did the unthinkable. She raised her hand and slapped Lingling, the sharp sound ringing through the night air.
The shock on Lingling’s face was clear, but Orm couldn’t stay to see the aftermath. She turned away, the tears finally flowing freely down her cheeks, and walked off into the night, never once looking back.
************************
23 years old
The rift between Orm and Lingling showed no signs of healing. Whatever feelings Orm had once harboured for Lingling had curdled into something far more bitter—hatred. She took every opportunity to make Lingling uncomfortable, deliberately choosing upscale venues for their hangouts, knowing full well that Lingling couldn’t afford them and would therefore have to bow out. Orm seemed determined to hurt Lingling at every turn, and yet Lingling remained silent, never fighting back.
Their group of friends began to notice the growing distance, and soon, Lingling’s name faded from conversations altogether. It became clear that the group needed to spend time with each friend separately to avoid the tension. It had been months since Orm had last seen Lingling, but she couldn’t deny that thoughts of her still lingered. Though she often twisted these soft, lingering memories into a source of anger, fuelling her resentment.
Tonight, Orm was attending her father’s charity event, a requirement for her as the heir to the Kornnaphat family. Designer dresses were carefully draped around her as stylists flitted about, perfecting her look for the evening. Sonya, seated on one of the couches and absorbed in her phone, appeared troubled. Orm noticed her expression and, with a hint of concern, asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sonya looked up, her face serious. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen carefully,” she said, her tone grave. Orm, sensing the weight of Sonya’s words, signaled for the stylist to leave the room, granting them some privacy.
Sonya took a deep breath before speaking. “Lingling will be here tonight.”
Orm blinked in surprise, then let out a harsh laugh, trying to mask the pang of hurt that the mention of Lingling’s name brought. “And why should I care?” she replied dismissively, rolling her eyes.
“Because she’s finally secured a temporary job,” Sonya explained. “If she closes a deal tonight, she could be offered a permanent contract.”
Orm had heard the muted whispers about Lingling’s job struggles. Despite the group’s offers to help her find work within their families' businesses, Lingling had refused, not wanting to impose. Orm had thought it foolish—opportunities are often about who you know.
“And you’re telling me this because?” Orm asked, her tone revealing a lack of interest.
“I’m telling you so you don’t try to humiliate or sabotage her opportunity,” Sonya said firmly.
“Just get her out of my sight,” Orm huffed, her patience wearing thin. She then waved for the stylist to return, dismissing the conversation as she focused on her preparations for the evening.
It took a few hours, but Orm and Sonya finally arrived at the charity event, both impeccably dressed. They entered the grand hall, a vision of opulence with glittering chandeliers casting their glow over the elegantly dressed guests. The room buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of a live orchestra. The atmosphere was alive with the mingling of socialites, each conversation a blend of sophistication and revelry.
Navigating through the crowd, Orm quickly spotted her parents amidst the sea of well-dressed attendees. She greeted them warmly, exchanged pleasantries with their guests, and then spent the next hour circulating among the crowd. Despite the lively scene, she was relieved not to have seen Lingling yet. Needing a moment to herself, she made her way to the bar, hoping a drink would give her the boost she needed to continue mingling.
Her moment of solitude was abruptly interrupted when a familiar voice cut through the noise. "Hi Orm." She turned around, and her gaze met Lingling's. The sight of her brought a rush of memories and emotions that Orm had been trying to suppress.
Lingling looked both unfamiliar and familiar, her eyes still holding that same warmth and kindness that Orm remembered. "It's been a while. How are you doing?" Lingling asked, her voice still gentle and caring.
Orm’s heart twisted, but she forced herself to remain detached. "What are you doing here? Isn't this place a bit out of your league?" she said, more statement than question.
Lingling chuckled softly, her eyes glinting with a mixture of nerves and determination. "Yeah, it is. This is actually my first time wearing a suit—I rented it for the occasion," she said, lifting her hands to show off the attire. "I'm here for business. I actually got a job."
The casual way Lingling spoke, the warmth in her tone, was a painful reminder of what Orm had tried so hard to push away. Orm struggled to keep her composure. "Who is the unfortunate soul who has to deal with you?" she said flatly, trying to maintain her cold demeanor.
"Actually, it’s you," Lingling replied with a nervous laugh, her smile faltering slightly under Orm's icy gaze.
Orm blinked, taken aback by the unexpected response. She could see the nerves beneath Lingling’s composed exterior, and it stirred a conflict within her.
Orm was resolute in her decision not to engage with Lingling any further. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone and hoped Sonya would appear to intervene. As usual, she resorted to what she did best—walking away. However, Lingling followed her, her voice breaking through Orm’s resolve.
“Orm, please. Just five minutes. Just hear me out,” Lingling pleaded. There was a rare desperation in Lingling’s voice, one Orm had never heard before. Lingling’s eyes, usually so composed, now held a vulnerability that was new and unsettling to Orm.
Lingling stood directly in front of Orm, her expression pleading. “I really need this job. Please.”
Orm was momentarily dazed by Lingling’s unexpected display of desperation and defeat. Why was Lingling so desperate? Why did she look so broken and fragile now?
Just then, a deep voice cut through Orm’s turbulent thoughts. “Miss Kornnaphat, I’m sorry if she’s bothering you.” Orm turned to see Mr. Nachli, a well-respected acquaintance of her father. Mr. Nachli was a kind but formidable businessman, someone Orm had met on several occasions.
“I’ve assigned Miss Kwong a task, but I wasn’t aware she was causing you any discomfort,” Mr. Nachli said, his gaze shifting to Lingling, who now looked downcast and ashamed, clearly having realized she might have jeopardized her chance at the job.
Orm looked back at Lingling, her resolve hardening. “I believe you’ve sent Lingling to propose some sort of business deal,” she said to Mr. Nachli, maintaining her professional façade. She refused to let her emotions control her actions. Not now. Not ever.
“I’m willing to proceed,” Orm continued, her voice cold and detached. Both Lingling and Mr. Nachli seemed taken aback by her swift decision. It’s strange to accept without knowing what are the contents of a business proposal. “But there’s one condition.”
Lingling and Mr. Nachli looked at her, waiting for the stipulation.
“I will accept the proposal,” Orm said, her gaze locked onto Lingling’s, “as long as Lingling Kwong is fired.”
Orm’s eyes bore into Lingling’s, wanting to see the impact of her words. She wanted Lingling to feel the sting of rejection, to understand what it felt like to be cast aside. The bitterness and pain in Orm’s heart were now on full display, and she wanted Lingling to know just how much she could hurt.
Over the course of the following month, Orm received no shortage of harsh responses from her parents and friends regarding her actions. Her parents scolded her repeatedly, using the incident as a constant reminder that they hadn't raised her to behave that way. Her friends, especially Bow and Tan—who were the closest to Lingling—were furious with her. They made no effort to hide their anger or disappointment.
As for Lingling, she had completely disappeared from Orm’s life. No sightings, no whispers of her name. And although Orm projected an image of indifference to the world, every night before falling asleep, she would cry. She cried over the person she’d become, over the pain she’d caused Lingling, and over the possibility that she had ruined Lingling's life. She had expected Lingling to fight back, to lash out, to say something in retaliation—but instead, Lingling had only offered her a sad, silent smile before walking away.
That image of a defeated Lingling haunted Orm’s thoughts. Some nights, she could barely close her eyes, her mind constantly replaying that moment, the guilt gnawing at her until she was numb. It took months for her friends to cool down, and finally, Orm decided to reach out to Sonya for a quick lunch before heading back to work.
Sonya declined, but Orm, stubborn as always, ignored her and brought lunch anyway, showing up at Sonya’s office unannounced. She wanted to appear strong, like she wasn’t as broken as she truly felt inside.
Stepping out of the elevator, Orm walked briskly down the hallway, greeted by employees as she passed. Through the glass walls of Sonya’s office, she could see her friend looking stressed, mid-conversation on the phone. Orm hadn't realized Sonya’s work was weighing so heavily on her.
Without hesitation, Orm opened the door and greeted her friend. “Tan, I’ll call you back. The witch is here,” Sonya snapped, ending the call and shooting Orm a glare. So it wasn’t work weighing heavily on her.
“Okay, just yesterday you were fine. What has Tan told you today that’s got you so angry with me?” Orm asked, making herself comfortable on the couch as if nothing was wrong.
Sonya looked like she was about to explode but instead took a deep breath, shaking her head. “Nothing,” she sighed, pulling out the salad Orm had brought her for lunch.
Orm, sensing the tension, quickly tried to distract Sonya with light conversation, bringing up their upcoming trip to Bora Bora. The group had been planning it for a while, and finally, everyone had aligned their schedules. But despite her efforts to steer the conversation, it was clear Sonya was still distracted, likely weighed down by something Tan had said—something that undoubtedly had to do with Lingling.
Orm wasn’t going to ask directly, but she knew she had to find a way to uncover what was really bothering Sonya. “Oh, and tell Tan we’re not flying commercial—only private. I know how much he likes rubbing elbows with people like that,” Orm said casually, hoping the mention would stir something.
It worked. Sonya huffed, throwing her fork into her salad bowl. “You won’t see or hear from Lingling in Thailand again,” she murmured, sadness lacing her voice.
Orm paused, her stomach dropping. What did that mean? Not in Thailand again?
Seeing Orm’s confusion, Sonya continued. “She couldn’t find a job, Orm. Her mother’s sick. She can’t afford the hospital bills, so… she’s heading back to Hong Kong to take care of her.”
It felt like a punch to the gut. Nausea rose within Orm as her mind raced. Lingling’s departure was her fault. The weight of what she’d done crashed over her like a tidal wave.
“You got what you wanted, Orm. She’s gone,” Sonya sighed, standing up to throw away her salad bowl, her voice filled with defeat.
Orm sat there, frozen, the image of Lingling’s sad smile flashing through her mind once more. Her throat tightened, her chest ached, and tears threatened to fall. What had she done?
************************
25 years old
Years had passed, and with time came the inevitable news: Lingling’s mother had passed away. Orm’s group of friends immediately arranged a trip to Hong Kong to pay their respects, but Orm didn’t join them. She couldn’t face it. She couldn’t face Lingling or the consequences of what she had done. Each time she thought about being in the same space as Lingling, shame and guilt flooded her senses.
Despite burying herself in work, each night she found herself alone in bed, tears slipping down her cheeks as she cried herself to sleep. The weight of her regret had become a constant, suffocating presence. Even after years of self-imposed isolation, she hadn’t dated anyone seriously. At one point, Orm decided it was time to move on, thinking perhaps dating again might help her forget Lingling. She forced herself back into the game, but nothing changed. Instead, she found herself lying in bed beside strangers, people whose names she’d forgotten by morning, her mind still full of Lingling. The encounters felt empty—just another reminder of the void she could never fill.
Her parents had grown increasingly concerned with her unpredictable behavior, worried about her random outbursts. Sometimes, overwhelmed by her emotions, she lashed out at whoever was nearby, unable to contain the storm brewing inside her. Her parents attributed it to hormones, suggesting it was time for her to get married, assuming the chaos in her heart stemmed from her age. But they were unaware of the true source of her torment. Orm wasn’t dealing with a passing mood swing—she was breaking apart, piece by piece, from the inside out.
For years, her parents had tried to arrange a marriage, believing it would stabilize her. Eventually, worn down by their persistence and exhausted from trying to keep her pain at bay, Orm agreed. She didn’t care anymore. She just wanted something, anything, to numb the ache that had consumed her life. His name was Wan. He was, by all accounts, a decent man—hardworking, respectable, and from a family her parents approved of. They were part of the same social circles, and on paper, he seemed like the perfect match. A dream husband for anyone but Orm.
In reality, Wan was simply another distraction—a polite, functional solution to a life she no longer knew how to manage. Her friends had tried to reach out over the years, wanting to help her through the darkness, but Orm pushed them away. She couldn’t bear to see them. Every time she did, she was reminded of the life she had lived with them—the memories they shared with Lingling. They were a link to the past, a past she desperately wanted to erase but couldn’t.
Even as she moved forward, inching toward a marriage she didn’t want, Orm couldn’t escape the one thing that haunted her every waking moment. There wasn’t a single day that passed when she didn’t think of Lingling—her smile, her warmth, and the pain Orm had caused her. It lingered in the shadows of her mind, a relentless reminder of everything she had lost and everything she could never reclaim.
It's strange how life works, isn’t it? No matter how much Orm tried to forget Lingling, the universe seemed determined to make their paths cross again. After her official engagement to Wan, her mother had suggested Hong Kong as the perfect place for wedding shopping. The mere mention of the city made Orm's heart tighten with unease. She had refused, pushing for Paris instead, but her mother was adamant that they visit both cities. And so, despite all her attempts to avoid it, Orm found herself staring out at the familiar skyline of Hong Kong as the plane descended for landing.
As soon as she set foot on Hong Kong soil, a flood of memories rushed back, each one tied to Lingling. Orm couldn't bear it. She instructed the driver to take her straight to the hotel and, once inside her room, she didn't leave for the rest of the day. She stayed there, lying in bed, tears slipping from her eyes as thoughts of Lingling consumed her. What if they bumped into each other? What would she say? How would she act? The very thought of seeing her again felt like an unbearable weight on her chest. Yet, between her sobs, she found herself laughing bitterly at the absurdity of it all—what were the chances, in a city so vast, that she would randomly run into Lingling?
For two full days, Orm remained locked away in her hotel room, ignoring her mother’s growing concern. She pretended that it was exhaustion, or perhaps that she was getting cold feet about the wedding, but the truth was far deeper. The more time she spent alone, the more her mind drifted to Lingling. She thought about all the different scenarios—how it would feel if their eyes met again after so many years. What could she possibly say to her? Years ago, Suzie had mentioned that Lingling had taken over her mother's restaurant after her passing. Orm had never forgotten that small detail, though she pretended not to care at the time.
In a brief moment of impulsive bravery, Orm made a call to her butler. She instructed him to find out Lingling Kwong's whereabouts, though the moment the words left her lips, regret washed over her. What was she thinking? Why would she want to know? She was searching for a woman whose life she had once destroyed. It felt wrong. It felt like opening an old wound that had never quite healed. Orm shut her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts that clawed at her mind, but it was impossible. Lingling was everywhere—in her memories, her regrets, her guilt.
On the third day, her mother finally coaxed her out of the hotel room. Orm, her heart pounding in her chest, forced herself to act calm. She needed to leave Hong Kong as soon as possible. She convinced herself that the only way to escape was to get her wedding dress fitted, finalize the plans, and then catch the next flight out. The longer she lingered in the city, the more unbearable it became. Every corner of Hong Kong felt haunted by the past, by the memories of a woman she had hurt more than anyone else. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, Lingling remained a presence she couldn’t escape.
The entire ride to the bridal shop was a blur. Orm kept her eyes closed the whole way, refusing to take in even the smallest glimpse of Hong Kong. She couldn’t bear it—the memories, the regret, the guilt. They haunted her every step. When they arrived, the stylist dressed her in a gown that her mother and the designer admired with awe. Yet, as Orm stared at her reflection, all she could think about was the life she was stepping into—a life without Lingling. Her heart ached, so intensely that it felt as though it would burst from her chest. Her vision blurred, her head grew light, and before anyone could react, she quickly stripped off the dress and changed back into her regular clothes.
Without a word, she rushed out of the shop and got into the car, instructing the driver to leave immediately. She didn’t care that her mother was still inside, discussing more wedding details. Orm sat in the back seat, numb, her mind completely blank. Then the driver’s voice broke through the suffocating silence.
“Ma’am, we’ve found the address of the person you inquired about,” he said.
Without a second thought, Orm blurted, “Take me to her.”
The drive felt long, though her mind couldn’t register much of it. It wasn’t a glamorous part of the city; they passed through narrow streets and alleyways until the car stopped outside a small corner restaurant. Her heart pounded as she hesitantly stepped out. She had imagined this moment countless times, rehearsed what she would say, how she would act. Yet now, standing in front of Lingling’s restaurant, her legs felt weak.
Orm pushed open the door and stepped inside, her eyes immediately landing on Lingling. There she was, standing behind the counter, looking so different yet so painfully familiar. The words Orm had practiced evaporated, leaving her speechless.
"Hi... This is really an unexpected surprise," Lingling said softly, her voice warm but distant.
Orm opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, a thick lump forming in her throat. She wanted to say so much, but the weight of it all kept her silent.
"Come, have a seat. Are you hungry?" Lingling offered, gesturing toward a chair. There was a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Orm noticed the changes in her immediately. Lingling had lost weight; she looked thinner, almost fragile. Her once bright eyes were dim, tired. Her hands were worn, marked with calluses and burn scars from working in the kitchen. Orm could hardly recognize the woman she once knew so intimately.
"I'm not hungry," Orm managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.
"Please, sit," Lingling insisted, pulling out a chair for her.
Without thinking, Orm obeyed, slowly sitting down next to her. The two women sat in silence for a long moment, simply looking at each other. Orm’s mind raced with everything she wanted to say—how sorry she was, how she regretted every cruel word, how she should have been there for Lingling when she needed her the most. But nothing came out. Instead, she just stared at her, as if trying to memorize her all over again.
"I was worried about you," Lingling whispered, breaking the silence. Her voice was so genuine, filled with concern that stabbed at Orm’s already aching heart. "Bow and Tan have been keeping me updated on things back in Thailand."
Orm’s chest tightened with guilt. How could Lingling still care about her after everything she’d done? She wanted to scream, to beg for forgiveness, but she couldn’t. The words remained stuck in her throat.
"Congratulations on the engagement," Lingling said quietly, her eyes drifting down to the ring on Orm’s finger.
Orm hated the ring. At that moment, she wanted to rip it off and throw it into the nearest river, to forget it ever existed. The ring was a reminder of everything she didn’t want, a symbol of a future she couldn’t imagine living without Lingling.
“How are you?” Orm whispered, barely able to ask the question. She didn’t want to be congratulated on her engagement; she didn’t even want to think about it. All that mattered was Lingling, sitting across from her, the one person she had tried so hard to forget and failed.
“I’m good... I’m doing good,” Lingling replied, but her smile was empty. Orm could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t okay. And Orm hated herself even more for being part of the reason.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sudden downpour of rain broke the silence between them. Orm felt her chest tighten even more. "It’s raining. I should go," she said quietly, though every part of her wanted to stay. There was so much left unsaid, but fear held her back. Fear that if she stayed, she would hurt Lingling even more than she already had.
“Wait,” Lingling called out softly, her voice breaking through the heavy sound of rain. She reached under the counter and pulled out an umbrella, quickly opening it with a familiar motion. The scene felt like something out of a memory—one they had both lived through once before. Without hesitation, Lingling draped her arm around Orm’s shoulder, drawing her close as they walked together under the shelter of the umbrella.
The rain pattered lightly on the fabric above them, but they moved in silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Orm could feel the warmth of Lingling’s arm around her, and she wished, more than anything, that time could stop. In that brief moment, everything felt right, and she longed to stay wrapped in Lingling’s presence, in her embrace.
When they finally reached the car, Lingling let her arm slip away, and Orm felt the absence instantly, like a void she couldn’t fill. Lingling reached into her back pocket, and with a small smile, pulled out a single lily. The flower was delicate, its white petals fresh from the rain. She handed it to Orm, her eyes soft yet distant, the smile on her lips laced with an old sadness.
"Take care, Orm," Lingling said warmly, her voice carrying the weight of years, of love left unspoken.
That was all it took. Orm felt something inside her break, the dam of emotions she had been holding back for so long finally collapsing. She couldn’t contain it any longer, the tears welling up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she began to sob. The pain, the guilt, the love—it was too much. She cried for everything they had been, and everything they couldn’t be.
Lingling, still holding the umbrella, looked at her with a softness that only made the ache in Orm's heart worse. "I'll see you at lunch tomorrow," she said, her tone filled with pain, they both know there would be no tomorrow. But Orm couldn’t respond. She could barely breathe through her sobs.
Without another word, Orm climbed into the car, her hands trembling as she clutched the lily. As the car pulled away, she turned her tear-filled eyes toward the window, watching Lingling slowly fade into the distance, standing alone in the rain, umbrella in hand.
As the car disappeared into the rain, Lingling stood there for a moment, watching until it was out of sight. A sad smile tugged at her lips, and with a deep breath, she turned back toward the restaurant.
Lingling stepped inside the empty restaurant, her heart heavy with thoughts of Orm. What Orm would never know—what she could never understand—was that Lingling had always loved her, even through the pain, the distance, and the years of silence. Every day, Lingling stopped by the same small flower shop to buy a fresh lily, holding on to the hope that one day she might give it to Orm. It had become part of her routine, a ritual of sorts, a quiet gesture to keep her love alive, even if only for herself.
Orm didn’t know how many times Lingling had wished things had turned out differently. She didn’t know that Lingling had spent countless nights lying awake, wondering if she had ever been enough for her. In her heart, Lingling had always believed that Orm deserved someone better, someone stronger, someone who didn’t carry the weight of financial struggles or personal failures.
But what Orm would never know, what she could never imagine, was that Lingling’s love for her had never wavered. It was a quiet, enduring love—one that had outlasted the heartbreak and the years apart. Even when everything else in her life felt like it was falling apart, the one thing Lingling held on to was the love she had for Orm. And though she had lost her once, Lingling never truly let go.
Every night, when the world was quiet and the restaurant was empty, Lingling would close her eyes and drift into sleep. In her dreams, they were together—free from the complications of the past, from the mistakes and misunderstandings. In those dreams, they laughed and loved as they once did, and for a few precious hours, Lingling could believe they were still each other’s.
But morning would always come, and with it, the harsh reality that Orm was no longer by her side. Lingling would wake up alone, her heart heavy, but she would get up, go to the flower shop, and buy another lily.
The irony wasn’t lost on her—how their story had begun with rain and a lily, and now it seemed to have ended the same way. Life had a strange way of bringing them full circle, only for them to part ways just as they had met.