Growing Trust in a Bigger World

Lingling woke with a slow, contented sigh, blinking at the gentle morning light. She took a moment to register her surroundings—the main bedroom, not the second bed they'd been using intermittently. Since that night she and Orm had shared a tentative cuddle and Orm decided to try sleeping here again, she'd been waiting to see if it was just a one-time attempt. But for nearly a week now, Orm had chosen to stay. Each morning, Lingling woke up half expecting it to be a dream.

The hum of the city traffic outside reminded her of how normal life pressed on—work schedules, therapy sessions, the daily humdrum. Yet her heart swelled, feeling Orm's gentle warmth at her side. It wasn't a perfect return to old habits—Orm still sometimes slept half on her own side, waking from uneasy dreams or memories—but each new sunrise felt like a gift.

She quietly turned her head to see if Orm was still dozing. Soft hair spilled across the pillow, eyes closed. Lingling studied her face with reverent caution. She's here, she thought. She chose to be here. She swallowed a surge of gratitude. Weeks ago, Orm wouldn't have stayed in the same bed, too haunted by forced intimacy and broken trust. Now, they were forging a fragile but very real closeness.

An alarm buzzed on Orm's phone, causing her to stir and let out a small groan. Lingling gently reached over to silence it. Orm blinked awake, focusing on Lingling with a bleary but calm expression. "Mmm... morning," she managed, voice still husky from sleep.

"Morning," Lingling whispered, offering a gentle smile. She fought the urge to brush hair from Orm's face, not wanting to push physical boundaries the moment Orm stirred. "I can start coffee, if you'd like."

Orm nodded, stretching her arms overhead. "Sure. That'd be good." There was no tension in her posture—only the mild stiffness of someone not fully awake. Lingling took that as a positive sign, slipping from under the covers and padding into the hallway.

In the kitchen, she started the coffee machine, gathering eggs and bread with practiced motions. She glanced at the clock: 6:20 a.m. Enough time to make a simple breakfast before they parted ways for the day. I should keep it light, she thought, recalling Orm's usual preference for something small in the morning. She whisked eggs, heart fluttering happily at the routine that had once been lost under piles of neglected dinners and phone calls.

Within minutes, the smell of coffee and butter filled the condo. Orm entered wearing loose pajama pants and a T-shirt, hair pinned back. Her eyes flicked to Lingling, carrying a hint of softness. She doesn't look as guarded as she used to, Lingling noted. She set plates on the table.

They ate quietly. But rather than the old suffocating hush, this quiet felt companionable. Eventually, Orm broke it with a small question about Lingling's office. "You're still leaving at five every day?" she asked, sipping coffee.

Lingling nodded. "Yes. Some colleagues still freak out around four-thirty, but I've been delegating. It's been... actually manageable." She paused, meeting Orm's eyes. "It's worth it, to be here with you. It's where I want to be."

Orm looked down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks," she said softly. "I... see how consistent you've been. I appreciate it. A lot."

Lingling's chest filled with warmth. She carefully reached across the table, resting her hand over Orm's. This time, Orm didn't pull away. "I'm glad," Lingling murmured. "I'll keep doing it. No going back."

Later that afternoon, they headed to Dr. Junji's office for their scheduled therapy session. The waiting room no longer felt like a place of dread for Lingling. She'd grown to trust these sessions—Orm spoke more each time and Dr. Junji guided them gently through tough spots.

When they settled on the couch inside, Dr. Junji greeted them with a calm smile. "Good to see you both. How have things been since our last talk?"

Orm and Lingling traded glances. Usually, Lingling spoke first, but Orm cleared her throat and said, "We've been... better. I've been sleeping in our main bedroom again." A faint blush rose on her cheeks, but she pressed on. "It's not perfect, but it feels... less scary than I imagined."

Dr. Junji's eyes lit with approval. "That's wonderful. And physically, do you feel comfortable, Orm?"

Orm fiddled with her hands. "Yes, actually. We've done some gentle cuddling." She sent Lingling a quick, almost shy smile. "It helps that I'm seeing how serious she is about not letting work overshadow us."

Lingling's throat constricted with emotion. She forced a steady tone. "I want Orm to always know she's my priority. I never want her to doubt that again."

They discussed the "homework" from prior sessions—short daily check-ins, gentle physical contact. Dr. Junji nodded, pleased. "You've rebuilt a baseline of trust at home. The next step might be testing that bond outside the condo or therapy environment, yes?"

Orm's brow creased. "Like... going out in public as a couple? We've done small café trips, but I still get tense if people notice us. Or if we see acquaintances who might ask about... everything."

Dr. Junji suggested an upcoming social event, if any. Lingling hesitated, recalling an invite from a mutual friend, Charlotte, who was throwing a small weekend house party next week. They'd declined invites for months, not feeling stable enough. "Maybe Charlotte's party," Lingling said. "It'll be close friends, some family. We could go... if you're up for it?"

Orm swallowed, voice tentative. "I think... yes, maybe we should. I want to see how we handle triggers in a bigger world." She offered a half-smile that made Lingling's heart lift.

Back at the condo that evening, they revisited the conversation about Charlotte's party. Lingling read the details from her phone: next Saturday, a casual gathering to celebrate Charlotte's new home. She studied Orm, who perched on the couch, twisting the edge of a throw pillow in her hands.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lingling asked. "We can skip if it's too soon."

Orm exhaled, shaking her head. "No. We've avoided everyone for months. My parents keep asking if we're okay, your friends keep trying to catch up... If we keep hiding, we might never relearn how to face the world as a couple. And Charlotte's always been supportive."

Lingling's chest ached at the truth of that statement. She recalled how Charlotte had once gently prodded them to see if they were "still on good terms." They'd brushed her off. We can't keep living in a bubble. "Alright," Lingling said with a small nod. "We'll go, but let's keep it short if we feel overwhelmed."

Orm's lips curved into a faint grin. "Deal."

Over the days leading to the party, Lingling noticed Orm occasionally glancing at her phone with a flicker of nerves. If Charlotte posted about the party or other mutual friends commented, Orm would sigh. "What if they bombard us with questions about our meltdown?" she'd ask.

Lingling tried to reassure her, "We can answer simply: 'We had a rough time, but we're better now.' And if it gets too personal, we can step away." She touched Orm's arm gently. "We're on the same side, remember?"

Orm offered a tremulous smile. "Yes. Same side." She clung to that phrase as the day of the party approached.

Saturday arrived with a crisp autumn breeze. Lingling and Orm approached Charlotte's new home in the late afternoon. Cars lined the street, and laughter drifted from the open windows. Lingling squeezed Orm's hand, feeling her own nerves spike. "Ready?" she asked quietly.

Orm inhaled, nodding. "Let's do it." She let go of Lingling's hand just before they reached the door, but Lingling understood—public hand-holding was still a leap. Charlotte greeted them with open arms, beaming. "You made it! I'm so happy to see you both."

Lingling managed a genuine smile, and Orm mustered one too, returning Charlotte's welcoming hug. Inside, a handful of friends mingled—some familiar faces from their old social circles, a couple of Lingling's coworkers, and Charlotte's extended family. The house glowed with warm lights, a swirl of conversation and gentle music.

Despite the friendly ambiance, Lingling felt a subtle tension coil in Orm's posture. She placed a reassuring hand on Orm's lower back, leaning in to whisper, "We'll stick together, okay?" Orm nodded, exhaling slowly.

They drifted through small groups, exchanging polite chit-chat. A friend from Orm's design circle approached, eyes flicking between them. "Hey, it's been a while. Are... you two good? I'd heard some rumors..." The question hung, carrying the unspoken knowledge of their meltdown period.

Orm's shoulders tightened. Lingling quietly took the lead. "We had a rough time, but we're doing much better now," she said simply, glancing at Orm. Orm nodded, giving a subdued but firm, "Yes. We're in a good place."

The friend seemed relieved, quickly shifting the topic to Orm's latest designs. Lingling sensed Orm relax bit by bit as they discussed creative ideas, the friend praising Orm's improved mood. "It's good to see you shining again," the friend said. Orm blushed a little, smiling at Lingling in a fleeting moment of shared appreciation.

An hour later, the party hummed around them. Lingling found Orm near the drink table, sipping water. She stepped up quietly. "How are you holding up?" she asked. Orm shrugged but offered a small grin. "Better than I thought. People have mostly been kind."

Lingling nodded, relieved. In that moment, Jade ambled over, giving them both a conspiratorial look. "You two look good together," she teased gently. "Glad you're on the mend."

Orm's eyes flicked to Lingling, a shy tilt of her lips. Then, in a tiny but significant move, Orm slid an arm around Lingling's waist, resting it there for a heartbeat. A subtle hush of shock went through Lingling's system—Orm was initiating a show of closeness, in front of Charlotte. She's truly letting people see we're okay again. Charlotte just smiled, saying, "I'll leave you to it," and wandered off to greet another guest.

Lingling turned her head, tears pricking. "That was—thank you," she whispered. Orm's cheeks colored. "I figured... I feel safe right now," she said, uncertain. "I wanted them to see we're not hiding." She paused, scanning Lingling's face. "Is that okay?"

Lingling blinked away tears, breath unsteady. "Yes," she managed. "Absolutely yes."

They remained that way for another minute—arm around waist, leaning into each other with tender warmth—before stepping apart to mingle again. The moment was fleeting but precious, a sign that Orm's fear of overshadowing or forced intimacy was giving way to natural affection.

As dusk settled, they decided they'd had enough socializing. Orm confessed she was a bit drained from so many interactions, and Lingling supported leaving early. Jade hugged them goodbye, beaming, "It's great to see you two so close again."

Back at the condo, the air felt lighter than before. Lingling locked the door and turned to Orm, heart glowing. "You did amazing," she said, softly setting her keys aside. "I'm proud of you. Proud of us."

Orm slipped off her jacket, letting out a slow breath. "It was... surprisingly nice. I kept expecting to freeze up or want to bolt, but you being there helped." She gave Lingling a grateful look. "And... it felt good to show them we're okay."

Lingling's chest tightened with emotion. "We really are," she whispered, stepping closer, lifting a hand to gently trace Orm's cheek. Orm allowed the soft contact, eyes glimmering with a mixture of relief and leftover tension.

They ended up in a quiet hug, Orm resting her head on Lingling's shoulder. "I appreciate how you had my back," Orm murmured, voice muffled by Lingling's shirt. "I know you've always been protective, but this time... you respect my boundaries, too. I feel it."

Lingling closed her eyes, tears slipping free. "I never want to push you again. I want you to feel safe... wanted." She sniffled. "Thank you for letting me in."

Orm inhaled shakily, pulling back. "Let's... keep moving forward, yeah?" She gave a timid smile. "We have therapy in a couple of days, but maybe we can try that cuddle homework again tonight?"

Lingling's heart soared. "Anytime. Let me just—" She broke off, noticing the time, how the day's fatigue settled across Orm's face. "We can get comfortable, maybe read or watch something calm. And if you want, we can dance again. Or just hold each other. I'm good with whatever you feel."

Orm nodded, eyes shining with gratitude.

A couple hours later, they found themselves in the living room, quiet music playing low. They'd done a small check-in chat, recapping therapy. Now, each faced the couch with a sense of anticipation. Orm set aside the remote. "I'm... feeling okay about taking a bigger step," she said hesitantly. "If you are, too."

Lingling's stomach fluttered. "Of course," she said gently, scooting closer on the couch. She recalled the therapist's suggestions about mindful physical closeness—consent at each stage, making sure Orm felt comfortable. "You set the pace."

Orm nodded, exhaling. She turned, guiding Lingling's hand to rest on her hip. They eased into a sideways embrace, Orm half in Lingling's lap, the atmosphere thick with possibility. The old, familiar desire stirred in Lingling's chest, but she held it in check, focusing on Orm's comfort.

After a moment, Orm pressed a trembling kiss to Lingling's cheek, sighing softly. "I used to love this so much," she whispered, tears lacing her voice. "I hated feeling forced when everything fell apart. Now it's... it's nice to want it again."

Lingling's breath caught. She cupped Orm's face gently, eyes brimming. "I want you to feel safe wanting this," she murmured. She closed the small distance, pressing a tender kiss to Orm's lips—light, careful, and full of emotional weight.

Orm let out a muted gasp but kissed back with trembling eagerness, a mix of longing and caution. Their mouths lingered a few seconds, a sigh of relief passing between them. Then Orm broke away, resting her forehead to Lingling's. "Okay," she breathed, smiling through tears. "That... that feels good."

Lingling's heart hammered. She stroked Orm's hair, the music drifting softly in the background. They tried a second kiss, this one slightly deeper, spurred by the swirl of reacquainted passion. Even so, Orm eventually pulled back, tears slipping down her cheeks, voice shaking. "I love you," she managed. "I never stopped. I was just so scared."

Lingling's own tears fell freely. "I love you too," she whispered, hugging Orm close. "Every single day, I'll show you we can have this without losing ourselves."

They transitioned into a quiet cuddle, Orm tucked under Lingling's chin. The closeness was comfortable, the air charged with a love they hadn't felt so purely in ages. After a while, Orm yawned, exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster setting in. Lingling offered a gentle smile. "Bed?"

Orm nodded, letting Lingling help her stand. They headed to the bedroom. This time, Orm didn't hesitate. She slipped under the covers with Lingling, curling up in a gentle spoon, her arm draped across Lingling's waist. The hush of the condo enveloped them, their bodies warm with the promise of a new day's closeness.

As Lingling drifted off, she marveled at the shift from a few weeks ago—Orm stiff and distant, herself consumed by guilt—to this subtle, heartfelt connection. She resolved to keep forging this path, unafraid of external questions or minor slip-ups. The outside world had seen them at Charlottes's party, standing together again; therapy had guided them to deeper intimacy. Now, in this nighttime hush, Lingling knew with certainty: they were healing, rediscovering each other in a bigger world, no longer cowering from the trauma of past neglect.

Lingling clutched Orm's hand beneath the blankets, tears of relief spilling onto the pillow. Orm gave a final, sleepy squeeze in return, nestling closer. The soft rhythm of Orm's breath lulled them both into a new sense of safety. Step by step, they were building something stronger than what had been lost—a relationship that faced triggers with unity, shaped by genuine communication, and finally, lovingly reclaimed in a broader, hopeful world.