The Overreaction Chronicles

The café was buzzing with the usual morning rush as Orm wiped down the counter, balancing a tray of empty mugs in her other hand. She turned too quickly, and her hip collided with the corner of the table. The sudden jolt caused her to lose grip of the tray, and as she instinctively reached out to steady it, the edge grazed her hand, leaving a small but noticeable cut.

"Ah, great," Orm muttered, examining the tiny line of red forming on her palm.

Becky noticed immediately, her eyes widening with exaggerated concern. "Oh no! Orm's been wounded in battle!" she gasped, clutching her chest. "We'll have to amputate!"

Orm rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh. "Becky, it's a scratch, not a war injury."

Freen, overhearing from the next table, leaned in with mock seriousness. "Becky, get the first-aid kit. I'll draft her last will and testament."

Becky smirked, grabbing a napkin and dramatically pressing it to Orm's "wound." "Stay with us, soldier. You're going to make it."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Orm deadpanned, pulling her hand away. "I'll survive."

The café door jingled as Lingling stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor with her usual air of composed authority. She scanned the room and immediately zeroed in on Becky holding Orm's hand with a suspiciously dramatic expression.

"What happened?" Lingling asked, her tone sharp and commanding.

Becky's smirk widened. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a flesh wound. She'll probably survive."

Lingling's gaze darted to Orm, who quickly raised her hands. "It's fine, Ling. Just a little scratch. Nothing to worry about."

But Lingling was already moving toward her, her eyes narrowing as she grabbed Orm's hand to inspect the injury. Her cold composure cracked just slightly, a flicker of worry crossing her face.

"How did this happen?" she demanded, her voice clipped.

Orm opened her mouth to respond, but Becky beat her to it. "Gravity, mostly."

Lingling's expression grew grim as she examined the tiny cut. "This is unacceptable. Where's the first-aid kit? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

Freen snorted from her seat. "Ling, it's a paper cut with extra drama. Chill."

Lingling's sharp glare made Freen shrink back in mock fear. "Chill? She's injured, Freen. Injured."

Orm tried to gently pull her hand away. "Ling, seriously, it's not that deep. I'll slap a Band-Aid on it, and it'll be fine."

Ignoring her completely, Lingling turned to Becky. "How did this happen? Were you not watching her?"

Becky, unfazed, shrugged. "I didn't realize babysitting was part of my job description."

Lingling's frown deepened. "It is now."

Before Orm could protest, Lingling marched into the back room and returned with the first-aid kit, moving with the precision of a surgeon preparing for a major procedure.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing to a chair.

Orm sighed but complied, watching with mild amusement as Lingling sanitized the cut with far more care than necessary. "This is overkill, you know," she said, biting back a smile.

Lingling didn't look up. "I should've been here. This wouldn't have happened if I was here."

Orm chuckled. "Ling, it's a scratch. I've had worse papercuts."

Lingling paused, her eyes locking with Orm's. "Don't joke about this. Injuries are serious."

Meanwhile, Becky leaned toward Freen, whispering, "If Lingling reacts like this to a scratch, imagine if Orm gets the flu."

Freen nodded solemnly. "We'd need an entire hospital wing reserved."

Once the cut was disinfected, Lingling began wrapping Orm's hand with bandages—so many that it started to resemble a miniature cast.

"Ling, I think I'll lose circulation," Orm joked, wiggling her fingers.

Lingling ignored her, tying off the bandage with a flourish. "There. Now, no heavy lifting, no unnecessary movements, and you're taking the day off tomorrow."

Orm's jaw dropped. "What? Ling, I can't just take a day off for this."

Lingling's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You'll rest. Or I'll make you."

Freen stifled a laugh. "Wow, Lingling's going full nurse mode. Should we get her a uniform?"

Orm stirred awake, stretching lazily as the warm sunlight streamed through the penthouse windows. She glanced at the clock and groaned softly. Lingling's overreacting again. I'm perfectly fine. She decided she would sneak off to work before her overprotective fiancée could stop her.

Sliding out of bed quietly, Orm tiptoed toward the door. She was almost home free when a sharp voice stopped her in her tracks.

"And where exactly do you think you're going?"

Orm froze mid-step and turned to see Lingling standing in the hallway, arms crossed and impeccably dressed in her designer loungewear. Her icy glare could stop traffic.

"Uh... work?" Orm offered sheepishly.

Lingling's expression didn't waver. "Wrong. You're staying here, and so am I."

Orm stared at her, bewildered. "You're taking a day off? The Lingling Kwong? The CEO? Are you feeling okay?"

Lingling brushed past her toward the kitchen with cool determination. "Your recovery takes priority. Sit down."

Orm blinked in disbelief. "This can't be real life."

Orm found herself bundled up on the couch under a thick blanket, a cup of herbal tea in hand. Lingling sat beside her, holding a neatly printed schedule.

"I've outlined your recovery plan," Lingling announced. "It includes rest, hydration, and stress-free activities."

Orm raised an eyebrow. "Ling, I don't think a scratch requires a full itinerary."

Lingling didn't flinch. "And that's why I'm in charge."

Orm tried to sneak in some light chores to feel useful, but Lingling caught her folding a napkin and promptly confiscated it. "No strenuous activities," she ordered.

Orm sighed dramatically, sinking back into the couch. "You're scarier at home than in the boardroom."

Determined to pamper Orm, Lingling marched into the kitchen to make breakfast. Orm followed, leaning against the counter and watching in silent amusement.

"Ling, are you... cooking?" Orm asked, stifling a laugh as Lingling cracked an egg with the precision of a scientist conducting an experiment.

"This is precision work," Lingling replied without looking up. "Something you clearly don't appreciate."

Orm grinned, unable to resist. "You're going to scare the eggs into cooking themselves."

Lingling shot her a withering look, but the sight of her fumbling to flip an uneven pancake was too much. Orm burst into laughter, quickly stifling it with her hand.

When Lingling finally placed the slightly burnt breakfast in front of her, Orm took a bite with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Mmm, delicious. Gordon Ramsay, who? Lingling Kwong is a culinary genius."

"You're mocking me," Lingling said, narrowing her eyes.

Orm leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Never. Thank you, my amazing fiancée."

After breakfast, Lingling wasn't done fussing. She insisted on giving Orm a hand massage, claiming it would "promote circulation and healing."

"You're making this up, aren't you?" Orm teased, grinning.

Lingling smirked. "Would you prefer I stop?"

Orm leaned back, enjoying the moment. "Absolutely not. Carry on."

The pampering escalated from there. Lingling brought fluffy robes, adjusted the lighting in the room, and even put on Orm's favorite playlist.

"Are you secretly a spa owner on the side?" Orm asked, laughing.

"Focus on relaxing," Lingling replied, her tone firm. "Or I'll extend the recovery period."

Later that afternoon, Orm, feeling perfectly fine, decided she'd had enough of Lingling's overprotectiveness. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching for a jar on the top shelf in the kitchen. Just as her fingers brushed the edge, Lingling appeared out of nowhere, her hands firmly wrapping around Orm's waist and pulling her back.

"Stop," Lingling ordered, her voice low and firm.

Orm turned in her arms, raising an eyebrow. "Ling, it's a scratch, not a life-threatening injury."

Lingling didn't reply immediately. She gazed at Orm, her intense protectiveness softening into something warmer. "I just want to take care of you," she whispered, her fingers lingering on Orm's waist.

Orm smirked, leaning in closer until their noses almost touched. "So... is this part of the recovery plan?"

Lingling's lips curled into a sly smile as her hands slid up to cradle Orm's face. "It is now."

Orm didn't have time to respond before Lingling captured her lips in a kiss, one that was soft at first but quickly deepened. Lingling guided Orm backward until her back gently pressed against the counter. The world outside their bubble faded away, Lingling's earlier tension giving way to unspoken affection and unrestrained passion.

One thing led to another, and soon they found themselves in their bedroom. Lingling's meticulousness melted as her movements became instinctive, driven purely by her love and care for Orm. The room filled with soft whispers and stolen breaths. It was as though Lingling was trying to pour every ounce of her devotion into this moment, showing Orm how deeply she loved her without words.

Afterward, as they lay tangled in each other's arms, the sunlight casting warm patterns across the bed, Lingling gently traced circles on Orm's back. The tension that had hung over her all day was replaced with quiet adoration.

"You really are something else," Orm murmured, her voice drowsy but filled with affection.

Lingling pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And you're everything to me."

Orm grinned, her teasing nature bubbling back. "So... are all your recovery plans this intense?"

Lingling smirked, leaning down to kiss her again, slow and deliberate. "Only for you."

Orm chuckled softly, brushing her fingers over Lingling's cheek. "But I thought you said no strenuous activities, Miss Overprotective."

Lingling's eyes twinkled mischievously as she leaned closer. "Exceptions can be made under specific circumstances."

Orm laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And you love me for it," Lingling replied, her voice soft but confident as she kissed her again.

As the evening drew to a close, they lounged on the couch, Lingling holding Orm's hand gently.

"I know I overreact sometimes," Lingling admitted, her voice unusually soft. "But seeing you hurt, even a little... it's too much."

Orm smiled, brushing a strand of Lingling's hair behind her ear. "It's not overreacting. It's love. And I love you for it."

Lingling leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Orm's lips. "I'll always take care of you. Even if you don't think you need it."

Orm chuckled. "So I should stub my toe more often?"

Lingling smirked. "Don't push your luck."

The next morning, Becky texted Orm: "Still alive? Or has Lingling wrapped you in bubble wrap yet?"

Orm laughed but didn't reply, knowing Becky would escalate if she admitted the bubble wrap idea had been floated.

Lingling saw the message over Orm's shoulder and smirked. "She's lucky I tolerate her."

Orm grinned, leaning into Lingling's side. "You do have a soft spot for her."

"I wouldn't go that far," Lingling replied, though a faint smile betrayed her.