The Kwong's Gala

"Wait, you want me to do what now?" Orm asked, staring at Lingling with a raised brow.

"A gala," Lingling repeated, sipping her tea. "My parents are hosting. I need you there as my date."

Orm's eyes narrowed playfully. "So, what I'm hearing is that you want me to wear heels, squeeze into a fancy dress, and smile at a bunch of people I don't know?"

"Yes," Lingling replied, deadpan. "And you'll look stunning doing it."

"Fine," Orm said with an exaggerated sigh. "But you owe me one."

Lingling's smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "I'll make it worth your while."

Orm descended from the car in a figure-hugging emerald gown and, yes, the dreaded heels. Lingling stepped out next, her sleek silver gown tailored to perfection. But as Orm walked around the car to join her, Lingling's eyes widened.

The heels made Orm even taller. Much taller.

"Seriously?" Lingling muttered under her breath, craning her neck slightly to meet Orm's amused gaze.

Orm grinned, catching Lingling's subtle glance. "What? Too tall for you?"

"No," Lingling said curtly, her tone defensive. "It's fine."

"Oh, it's definitely not fine," Orm teased, leaning slightly to whisper in her ear. "Want me to slouch a little to make you feel better?"

Lingling's sharp glare could've frozen molten lava. "You wouldn't dare."

Inside the grand ballroom, Orm was an instant sensation. Her confidence, combined with her down-to-earth charm, made her stand out in the sea of formality. While Lingling mingled with her parents, Orm found herself surrounded by a group of socialites, all eager to engage her in conversation.

"She's a natural," Mr. Kwong whispered to his wife as they watched Orm hold court with ease. "Effortless. She fits in so well."

Mrs. Kwong smiled knowingly. "I like her. She's genuine. It's no wonder Lingling is smitten."

"I just hope she doesn't scare Orm away," Mr. Kwong joked, earning a light nudge from his wife.

Lingling returned from a brief conversation with her mother, only to find Orm surrounded by a crowd. She stopped in her tracks, her grip on her champagne glass tightening as she observed one particularly bold socialite leaning just a little too close to her girlfriend.

Milk sidled up beside her, a devilish grin spreading across her face. "Careful, sis. You're going to break the glass."

"They're too close," Lingling muttered, her sharp gaze zeroing in on the group.

Milk chuckled. "Admit it. You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Lingling snapped, though her feet were already moving toward Orm.

"Sure you're not," Milk called after her, laughing.

Lingling arrived just in time to catch the socialite placing a hand on Orm's arm. "Excuse me," Lingling said, her tone cool but sharp enough to slice through the air. "Am I interrupting?"

Orm turned, her expression lighting up. "Ling, there you are."

"I was wondering where you'd wandered off to," Lingling said, slipping her arm around Orm's waist with practiced ease. Her gaze flicked briefly to the socialite, her polite smile not reaching her eyes. "I don't believe we've met."

The socialite stepped back slightly, unnerved. "Oh, no, I was just—"

"Leaving," Lingling finished, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As the group dispersed, Orm stifled a laugh. "Territorial much?"

Lingling's glare softened as she sighed. "You should know already."

Later in the evening, Orm led Lingling onto the dance floor. The orchestra played a soft, romantic melody as the couple swayed together under the twinkling lights.

"You didn't have to chase them all away, you know," Orm said, her voice teasing.

"They were getting too comfortable," Lingling replied, her tone unapologetic. "You're mine, Orm."

Orm chuckled, her hands tightening around Lingling's waist. "You're cute when you're possessive."

Lingling tilted her head, a rare smile gracing her lips. "You're the only one I care about tonight."

Orm's teasing expression softened, and she leaned down to press a tender kiss to Lingling's lips. "Good," she whispered. "Because you're all I care about too."