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Orm had many crushes – on a celebrity on screen, a passerby, an emotionally unavailable colleague, a classmate, a senior girl with short hair. Orm liked the feeling of being in love, even if it was something fleeting, lasting only for an evening. It seemed to lift her spirits, inspire her, and make her feel stronger.
Orm generally loved to feel – whether it was frustration from traffic jams or joy from winning a game, sadness from an evening rainstorm, or excitement from spending time with loved ones.
She was one of those who simply loved life – trying to enjoy every moment of it – whether it was quiet contemplation or intense emotions – all of it was just part of Orm's nature. Since childhood, her parents encouraged emotional expression, because holding emotions back would only make things worse – for herself and for those around her.
Orm wanted to fall in love for the long term – not for a month of sighs, not for an evening, but for a lifetime. And not in a way that the feeling would fade and become something in the background, but in a way that it would grow, progress, and expand. She wanted to love so deeply that her heart would always be filled with joy, happiness, and love, even in the midst of a storm.
When Orm turned twenty, it happened. At least, that's what she thought. She had been acting in films for three years – she had a contract with the third channel, and she was doing what she loved – acting. She wasn't even experiencing her own feelings; she was living through her character's emotions. This way, she could feel much more – more than what was given in regular life.
He was older – not by much, but noticeably. Orm felt like a girl with him, shy and weak. He wrote to her – not often, but enough to make her think about those messages the whole next night and morning – right up until their next meeting. He smiled in a way that seemed like no one else did – charismatically, confidently, almost authoritatively.
He knew about her feelings, encouraged them, gave her a taste of mutual affection – not enough for it to turn into a feeling of mutuality, but enough for Orm to imagine herself in a wedding dress – not now, but someday, with his last name added to hers, in their home.
Orm tried to be better than she was – she held back her loud laugh, dressed how he liked, tried to be, as she thought, just the right amount of clingy. She tried to be more feminine, more sexual, more grown-up. She tried to reshape herself to meet his standards.
"Luk," Koy lovingly tucked a stray lock of hair behind her daughter's ear as they were heading to the third channel's building. "I'm not going to give unsolicited advice, but you know you're beautiful, right? Just as you are. In every way."
That was all her mother said. Just once. And then Orm let it pass by. She thought her mom just didn't understand, didn't realize. Orm thought that for the sake of love, she could endure a little bit. Just a little – and then everything would change. Then he would fall in love, then he would understand who she really was, then he would accept every quirk of hers. Later.
For her happiness, she could and should try a little harder.
"God, don't shout like that," one of the filming days, when there were still about ten colleagues around – well-known actors, their mutual friends, the director – he visibly turned away when Orm tried to tell a funny story.
She tensed for just a second.
"Yes, of course," she smiled, awkwardly scratching her arm. "Sorry."
It wasn't the first time he had publicly expressed his displeasure. Orm wasn't sure if it was normal – she had never seen anything like it in her family, but at that moment, she convinced herself that she had indeed done something wrong.
It was always something small – how she ate wrong, laughed wrong, looked wrong, acted too childishly.
"Hey," he called to her quietly at one of the events. Orm glowed – trying to be closer to him, softly touching, being tender – giving him a smile and a loving look. "Have you gained weight?"
Inside, everything snapped, and Orm suddenly felt small, unnoticed, tiny, so unattractive and unwanted. She turned away, biting her lip so hard that it hurt – not more than it hurt in her soul.
"That lipstick doesn't suit you."
"Don't touch it, people are watching us."
"Ugh, don't slouch."
"Stop fidgeting."
"Never wear that sweater again."
"Do you really need to eat that dessert, girlie? Sometimes you should keep your mouth shut, you're an actress."
"Stop being so clingy."
"You're too sticky."
He was never satisfied with Orm. He was dissatisfied with her behavior, manners, character, appearance, and figure. By the end of post-production, Orm felt like a shadow of her former self.
But for the sake of love, one could endure, right?
He was simply busy when he didn't reply. He just wanted to make her jealous when he flirted with another colleague in front of Orm. He just wanted the best for her when he spoke unpleasant things about her appearance and figure. He was stressed about the series' release when he brushed her off.
Every one of his actions had an excuse.
But the one thing there was no excuse for was how he ended things with her.
Not that they had a relationship – they didn't even kiss. But it could definitely be called a situationship – Orm was in love, never hid it, he knew about it, and never directly rejected her, never agreed to anything. He just gave her the feeling of his presence when he was bored or when he couldn't be bothered.
After the promotion for their show ended, he simply stopped responding. Neither on Line nor Instagram. Messages remained unread, even though he regularly posted stories and chatted in group chats.
Orm was hurt. Too hurt. And she would have been willing to live with those emotions – just like any other. But now, on top of everything, she started to despise her body, her appearance, her personality. Now it seemed that she was too loud, too naïve, too childish, too hyperactive, too this, too that.
She stopped feeling confident and beautiful. She started covering her mouth when she laughed, her hands were almost always folded on her stomach, and after 4 p.m., Orm automatically ignored food.
When they met again, Orm didn't have the courage to ask him why he wasn't responding to her messages, why he suddenly disappeared. She didn't need to. He showed up at the channel's building with a girl on his arm. He smiled at Orm, looking her straight in the eyes, and smiled – that same smile.
"Girlie, no hard feelings, but have you seen yourself? You never had a chance from the start."
Of course, he said this right in front of his new girlfriend. In fact, he never filtered what he said. He didn't care who was around – colleagues, strangers, fans, or even Orm's mother. He saw no reason to soften his words.
Healing from this felt impossible.
Orm's heart was officially broken for the first time. Deep down, she hoped it would be the last. But besides the pain in her chest, she had to face other consequences – how to love herself again, how to accept herself and her appearance.
Looking back at her past self, the Orm of now couldn't imagine her recovery without LingLing.
She appeared suddenly, almost mystically. Orm hadn't even planned to audition for the role of Earn. Their chemistry shouldn't have worked so well. Ling shouldn't have smiled so warmly. They shouldn't have kissed at the second casting.
None of this was supposed to happen, but fate had other plans.
Ling was the most stable thing in Orm's life, besides her family's presence. Ling became an anchor – so simple and reliable.
She was just there. Never asking anything in return from Orm (though at that moment, Orm had nothing to give).
The girls gradually got used to each other – Orm tested the waters, and Ling let her. Orm pushed boundaries, and Ling didn't resist. Orm laughed, covering her mouth with her hand, asked costume designers to choose something oversized, took food but didn't eat it, and Ling noticed every little thing. Orm was trying to recover from a broken heart, and Ling opened hers to Orm.
Slowly, carefully, but with Ling's natural confidence.
Orm tried to accept herself again, and Ling stood behind her, offering quiet support.
When Orm laughed, Ling laughed too – openly, honestly, loudly. When Orm was self-conscious about her stomach, Ling silently disapproved of this but shielded the younger girl so she would feel comfortable. When Orm acted childishly and then suddenly caught herself, Ling mimicked her habits and manners. When Orm forgot to eat, Ling pulled out some snack from her bag. When Orm stared into the mirror for a long time, looking for flaws, Ling whispered words about how beautiful Orm was.
For every "but" from Orm, Ling had her "but" in return.
Orm didn't even realize when Ling became an inseparable part of her life, a reliable friend, and the one who brought not burning butterflies inside her, but a sense of strong stability.
Orm never thought she would fall in love with someone who had become a friend. Orm never thought that love would catch her not immediately, but after some time – after adjustments, small mishaps, hours spent hand in hand, after countries and cities, after climbing the pedestal, after minutes of silence and minutes of relentless chatter.
Ling didn't just help Orm heal, she became the healing – a magical pill that not only brought back the past version of Orm, but also made her stronger, more mature, wiser, better.
Now, in Orm's criteria for a partner, words about self-love and love for others, care, love for sports, and kindness appeared, instead of charm, charisma, and humor. Although Ling had the latter as well – it just stopped being the priority.
Ling became the priority.
She didn't replace the air for Orm, but with her, it seemed cleaner, calmer, better.
Orm couldn't even pinpoint the moment she fell in love. Maybe it happened after another tough day of filming when Ling offered her shoulder. Maybe during some fan meeting when Ling smiled or made a silly joke. Maybe when they talked late at night while leaving some event. Maybe when they were apart, and Ling texted first after her long filming, asking if Orm had eaten.
There were so many moments when she could have fallen in love.
Sometimes Orm even thought that she wouldn't have been able not to love Ling. Ling just didn't give her a choice – unconditional surrender before the battle even began. Ling was too good for Orm to remain indifferent.
Ling elevated Orm even in her own eyes – compliments, support – with words, actions, presence, gifts. Ling didn't need to belittle Orm to fuel her own confidence, Ling didn't make her jealous, Ling didn't point out flaws, on the contrary, she accepted them or even raised them to the level of quirks. Ling played along with Orm's childish behavior, Ling didn't ignore when she could genuinely respond – she answered briefly, concisely, but not to hurt Orm, just because she was that kind of person.
One day, Orm was lying in bed, mindlessly scrolling through X. A tweet caught her eye.
"Ling was given to Orm to heal her heart after it was broken. Ling was given to Orm to show her what true and sincere love is."
Just a fan's comment, who had no idea what was happening in the lives of the actors. But the accuracy of it made Orm catch her breath.
With Ling, Orm began to believe in the theory of the red string, in star-crossed destinies, in fate, in the trope of "from friends to lovers," in soulmates. With Ling, Orm believed that she deserved happiness, that she deserved love, that she deserved better treatment. With Ling, Orm wanted to be spoiled, picky, flirtatious, clingy. With Ling, Orm was just herself – no embellishments, no unnecessary image, no silly masks.
Ling confessed first.
Orm echoed her but asked for a little time – she wanted it, she so desperately wanted to be with LingLing, but she wasn't ready. She understood that now wasn't the right time.
Orm wasn't sure she'd be a good partner for Ling, not then. She was still learning to accept herself, to accept her new reality, she was still growing as a person, she wasn't yet as stable as she would have liked to be for Ling.
Orm still wasn't fully confident in herself.
At first, when Orm asked Ling for time, she agreed. But when Ling learned the reason for the temporary refusal to be together, she pursed her lips and nodded. And Orm prepared herself for the fact that she would be reprimanded, mocked, that her position would be considered childish.
But it was Ling.
So, she just stayed with Orm, supporting her on her journey.
Before the New Year, the girl finally felt ready. She had become more stable – calmer, even more confident, true to herself and her feelings. She began sleeping better, eating better, drinking more, and keeping track of her stress and exhaustion levels.
When they started their relationship, Orm was the happiest person. She didn't build expectations, but if she had, reality would have exceeded them.
Ling became Orm's first in many things – her first relationship, her first stolen kisses on set – not in the script, but by desire, the first time Orm stayed overnight for more than three days, her first time having sex, her first real date, the first one Orm told her dad about.
Orm would have wanted to give Ling all her firsts – and she did, unconditionally, trustingly – take everything you want. Orm didn't try to be someone else, but she became someone else – naturally, without pressure. She became better.
Koy smiled, watching her daughter change, and joked about rice – maybe too often. But seeing Orm blossom, becoming a graceful woman, seeing how she loved and was loved in return – it made her heart flutter.
Orm knew that Ling wasn't ashamed of her, didn't hide her. The girl's solo events spoke for themselves – she almost shouted her love, shared little details, smiled in a way that made Orm's knees weak, even from the other side of the city, through the screen.
They had been together for over four months when Channel 3 announced another football event. It was one of their favorite events – for both the actors and the fans. The stands were charged with raw, live energy, with rivalry and camaraderie, sweat and genuine joy.
Orm loved the emotions, and the football match gave them in full measure.
There were only a few rehearsals with the other colleagues – just a day before the event. The rest of the time, the song recording and dance preparation took place in a small circle – with Ling, the backup dancers, and two choreographers. It was comfortable, especially considering that almost all of their colleagues were already aware of their relationship.
Orm loved the time when they didn't have to hide. They could allow themselves a little more.
A kiss on the cheek.
"Teerak" as a term of endearment for Ling.
An embrace where hands casually slid to the hips.
Forehead to forehead.
Discussing dinner.
Wiping away each other's sweat with her hand.
Intimacy and closeness in every gesture. Orm stopped fearing her touches – that they might be awkward, unwelcome. Ling gave her carte blanche for everything – any display of emotions, any touch, any words. Orm truly felt seen, valued, important.
But the night before the group rehearsal, her heart briefly tightened at the thought that she would see him. Not butterflies, not anticipation, not excitement – just a fleeting fear. What if her growth, her changes – were all for show? What if he still had power over her? What if he would hurt her again?
In place of those thoughts came another.
The thought of Ling. Her quiet strength, her constant presence. Orm had seen many times what a protector her girlfriend could be – in a crowd, in silence, alone and with people. She protected her from others, from their words, comments, and even from her own thoughts.
With Ling, everything that seemed terrifying became trivial.
They were on the field – with other colleagues, but in each other's arms. Those who didn't know – guessed, those who didn't believe – could find out for themselves, and those who didn't know them – made clear conclusions. Everything was too obvious to deny their connection. They could have brushed it off as friendly touches – but Orm didn't care, she wasn't shy about her feelings, so she pressed closer to Ling during another joke from Gulf.
"Girlie" the laughter stopped when Orm heard that voice. They hadn't seen each other for almost a year, maybe a little less – the last time they crossed paths briefly in the building, and back then he just looked at her predatorily, smiling a crooked smile. That used to hurt, now the only thing she felt was irritation.
Ling, with her usual confidence, simply turned her head in his direction – said nothing, didn't smirk, didn't pull away. She just watched – this wasn't her war, not her battle, but she was there to support.
He walked over to them with long strides, smiling too wide for it to be sincere. Orm squeezed Ling's hand tighter, grounding herself.
"You look better. Lost weight?"
Orm felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She was almost ready to give in, he almost hit something inside her. For a split second, she remembered what it was like to wait for his messages for what seemed like an eternity, to feel ugly and unloved. She remembered what it was like to look at a hated reflection in the mirror, to trust someone who didn't deserve it, to stop eating for days.
But the warmth of her beloved Ling nearby filled her with more confidence than she thought she had.
I'm here.
Ling didn't say this, but she made it clear. With a small motion of her thumb across the back of Orm's hand, with her calm breathing beside her, with a condescending smile.
The air seemed suffocating – none of the colleagues intervened. Some simply didn't pay attention, some weren't aware, some, who knew, chose to just observe. Gulf looked at Ling, then shifted his gaze to Orm. He nodded at them, offering quiet support. Oom rolled her eyes. Prig held herself back from a biting comment.
"I'm just happy."
Orm smiled almost gently – not at him, but at her thoughts about Ling, about the journey she had gone through.
He raised an eyebrow, turning his gaze to Ling.
"With her?" a crooked grin. "Ling, I thought you had higher standards."
Orm momentarily loosened her grip on Ling's hand, and an emotion crossed her face that her girlfriend knew very well – doubt. Orm paused for a second – just a moment – what if she really wasn't worthy of such a partner? What if Ling also realized this and left her? What if they broke up because Orm wasn't perfect?
The thought process was interrupted by laughter – quiet and confident.
"You're not wrong." Ling helped Orm to stand, intertwining their fingers. Now they were on the same level – standing a meter apart. "I really do have very high standards."
One sentence. One statement – louder than any other words. A quiet confidence in her partner. In her choice.
"Wow, wow," he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I hope you also protect her well at night."
Orm snapped back into herself – the last phrase was a sobering slap in the face. His last words proved just how pathetic he was. He had always been like this, but only now did Orm fully realize it. For the first time, she felt uncomfortable and disgusted – not because of herself, but because of him – a slimy joke, dumb humor, a crooked grin.
"Don't doubt it."
Orm winked at Ling and pulled her away. This wasn't an act of acknowledging his victory – it was a gesture that they had nothing more to say. Before, Orm would have stayed until the end, but now – she saw no point. He wasn't even worthy of their attention. He wasn't worthy of this dialogue.
Ling obediently followed her girlfriend, not even glancing at him. She only looked at Orm's back, which walked confidently, pulling them further away. Once they had moved a sufficient distance, almost under the stands, the girl turned. In her eyes was determination and love – uncovered, honest, shouting. She forcefully pulled Ling to herself, kissing her.
Ling gave in at that moment, responding to the kiss.
"I love you, you know that?" she didn't need to ask, but Orm felt like she wanted to. Just to make sure Ling knew. Just to make sure everything was alright, that Ling was there – was, is, and will be.
The older girl smiled her crescent-eyed smile and nodded eagerly.
"Of course." She stole another kiss. "You did great."
Ling began covering Orm's face with little kisses.
"You're the most beautiful." A kiss on the cheek.
"The smartest and wisest." A kiss on the chin.
"The funniest." A kiss on the temple.
"The most talented." A kiss on the forehead.
Orm giggled at every compliment, turning her face towards the touches. The unpleasant feeling washed away with the first kiss from Ling.
Perhaps, just perhaps, Ling had truly been given to Orm to heal her heart, to show the strength of true love.
And Orm was ready to accept it.
And Orm was ready to show true love in return.