Chapter 3: Back in time

At the sound of her name, Orm turned fully to face her. "Baby? What's wrong?"

Lingling didn't answer. She just stood there, staring—her hands trembling, her breath uneven.

She had seen Orm's lifeless body. Had heard Koy's broken voice telling her she was gone.

And yet—Orm was standing right in front of her.

Lingling's mind raced back to last night.

The notebook. The journal entry about their engagement.

The four-leaf clover.

The wish.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst.

Had she really gone back in time?

Orm took a step closer, concern crossing her face. "Baby, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Lingling let out a choked sob, covering her mouth with both hands.

Orm wasn't a ghost.

She is alive.

Without thinking, Lingling closed the distance between them and threw her arms around Orm, burying her face in her shoulder.

Orm let out a surprised laugh, catching her balance. "Whoa! Okay, what's gotten into you?"

Lingling didn't answer. She just held on tighter, her body trembling against Orm's warmth.

Warmth.

Not cold. Not lifeless.

She is real.

She is here.

Orm hesitated for a second before wrapping her arms around Lingling, gently stroking her back. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Lingling swallowed the sob threatening to escape. She nodded against Orm's shoulder.

"A really bad one," she whispered.

Orm kissed the top of her head. "It's okay. I'm here."

Lingling squeezed her eyes shut.

She didn't know how or why this was happening.

All she knew was that she had been given another chance.

And this time, she wasn't going to waste it.

_____

Without a word, Lingling backed away, her gaze shifting to the countertop where her phone lay.

Clambering over in a clumsy rush, she snatched it up and immediately scrolled through her messages.

Her eyes widened as she discovered that the last voicemail from Orm and the subsequent text messages that had once painted a grim picture of an accident—had vanished entirely.

The phone displayed the date: October 11, 2024, a full six days before the fateful event that should have changed everything.

A mix of wonder and dread churned in her stomach, but Lingling knew better than to voice a word about it.

Not now.

Orm had no idea of the timeline that had been rewritten.

Her trembling fingers set the phone aside, and with a heavy heart, she left the kitchen.

Lingling needed answers, and she knew that part of the puzzle lay hidden within Orm's personal journal—a journal that had once been a window into Orm's innermost thoughts.

Retracing her steps back to their shared room, she closed the door softly behind her.

The room, usually filled with memories and quiet intimacy, now felt like a sanctuary for secrets.

With trembling hands, she searched for it, her mind reeling as she remembered waking up last night clutching it in a haze of sorrow and desperate hope.

Orm held the very journal Lingling was searching. "Looking for this?" Orm asked gently, a playful lilt to her tone as she extended the notebook toward Lingling.

Lingling's breath caught in her throat, shock mingling with an unspoken urgency. She stepped forward, reaching for the journal, but Orm quickly pulled it back as if protecting a treasured secret.

"Why are you going through my journals?"

Orm inquired, her voice soft and laced with genuine curiosity rather than anger.

"I remember waking up earlier with you hugging my journal. Why do you even have it?"

Lingling's eyes darted away, and she let out a shaky sigh. "I—I needed to understand," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Everything feels... different today. I checked my phone, and the messages... they're gone. It's like nothing happened."

Orm's brow furrowed slightly, perplexity dancing in her eyes.

"What do you mean, 'nothing happened'?" she asked, her tone careful not to probe too deeply.

Lingling hesitated, choosing her words with care. There were things she wasn't ready to share—not now, not when this miracle of a morning was unfolding.

After a long pause, Lingling's gaze shifted to a small object resting on a shelf by the journal—a delicate cloverleaf.

"The cloverleaf," she murmured, voice trembling with both hope and uncertainty. "Where is it?"

Orm's eyes widened as she reached up and retrieved a small, perfectly preserved three-leaf clover from a hidden corner of the shelf. "This one?" she asked, holding it gently between her fingers.

A wave of relief washed over Lingling as she nodded vigorously. "Yes. Please, can I have it?" she pleaded softly, her eyes locked on the tiny symbol that now carried the weight of a second chance.

Orm's lips curved into a knowing smile as she held the clover out. "You always said there was no luck—just hard work. But now, I see you believe a little in magic, don't you?" she teased lightly, though her eyes held genuine curiosity about the change she sensed in Lingling.

"Baby, trust me—I do believe now," Lingling replied, her voice steadier than she felt. The clover, once a token of whimsy, now represented the possibility of rewriting fate—a chance to mend a life marred by regret and loss.

Orm studied Lingling for a moment, then placed the clover carefully into Lingling's hand. "Keep it safe," she murmured, "it might be our little reminder that miracles can happen when we least expect them."

A comfortable silence settled between them, filled with the unspoken understanding of what was at stake.

Then, with a soft smile, Orm broke the quiet. "Come on, baby," she said, stepping toward the door. "Let's go have breakfast. You need to get ready for work."

Lingling hesitated, her eyes flicking between the clover still cradled in her palm and Orm's bright, reassuring gaze.

A small box on a nearby shelf caught her attention—a box that hadn't been there before. With delicate care, she opened it, revealing a velvet pouch nestled inside. Gently, she placed the clover into the pouch, as though safeguarding it could preserve the fragile magic of the moment.

Shaking her head with a faint, rueful smile, Lingling spoke softly, "I won't go to work today. I'm calling in sick."

Orm paused in the doorway, a surprised look crossing her face.

"Baby, are you sick?" she asked gently, a tease in her voice.

"This is the first time you've ever skipped work."

Lingling met her gaze, eyes still shining with the remnants of her secret revelation.

"I don't care about work right now," she said quietly.

"I just... I want to be here, with you. I want to hold on to this feeling—for now, at least."

Orm stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Lingling, pulling her into a warm embrace.

In that moment, the worries of past regrets and the weight of unspoken truths melted away under the sincerity of their connection.

They stood together for a long while, two souls intertwined amid the promise of a new day.

Lingling clutched the velvet pouch to her chest, feeling the cool, smooth surface of the clover leaf inside—a silent promise that perhaps, just perhaps, this miraculous morning was the start of something wonderful.

_____

Lingling sat at the dining table, staring at Orm as she ate breakfast across from her. The soft clinking of silverware against plates and the aroma of coffee filled the quiet morning. It felt so real—so familiar—but at the same time, completely surreal.

Orm is alive.

Lingling couldn't believe it. Just last night, she had been drowning in sorrow, hugging Orm's old clothes and crying herself to sleep. But now, Orm was here, smiling at her, eating toast and drinking coffee like nothing had happened.

Her hands clenched into fists under the table. This is six days before the accident. She needed to stop it. She needed to keep Orm safe.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Orm's voice pulled Lingling from her thoughts.

Lingling blinked, realizing she had been staring too long. She quickly shook her head. "Nothing," she whispered. "I just missed you."

Orm raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "You're acting strange." She put her fork down and crossed her arms. "First, you're skipping work. And now you're looking at me like I'm about to disappear." She gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, is there someone else?"

Lingling let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing her temples. "Baby, no. I just said I missed you, and now you think there's someone else?"

Orm giggled, shaking her head. "I'm just messing with you."

Lingling's heart ached.

This is really Orm.

Her laugh, her teasing, the way she leaned forward slightly when she was amused—it was all the same. It wasn't a dream.

But how long could she keep pretending that everything was fine?

Six days.

That was all the time she had.

She needed to stop the accident.

And she needed to do it without letting Orm know the truth.