Back To Reality

Lingling's first day back at work was nothing short of chaos.

She walked into Kwong Corp's headquarters, heels clicking against the marble floor with precision, her aura as sharp as ever. Yet, the moment she stepped into her office, the illusion of control shattered.

Stacks of reports overflowed on her desk. Emails flooded her inbox at an alarming rate. Her assistant stood there, looking two seconds away from fainting.

Lingling exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I was gone for two weeks." She lifted her gaze, her sharp tone making the assistant flinch. "Why does it look like I've been missing for two years?"

The assistant swallowed nervously. "Uh, w-well, ma'am, without you here, some departments got... a little too comfortable."

Lingling's eye twitched.

Before she could unleash her full Ice Queen wrath, Freen waltzed in, completely unbothered, holding her usual overpriced coffee.

"You look like you're about to challenge someone to a fistfight." Freen took a casual sip.

Lingling shot her a look of pure murder. "Not now, Freen."

Freen, ignoring the warning: "If you glare any harder, the entire marketing department might resign."

Lingling exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore her best friend. She turned back to her assistant. "Schedule an emergency department head meeting in an hour."

"Yes, ma'am," the assistant scurried off.

Lingling narrowed her eyes at her.

Freen, unfazed: "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Lingling's stiffened slightly, but quickly masked it with indifference. "I'm thinking about the company, Freen."

Freen snorted, shaking her head. "Right. The company named Mrs. Kwong's Wife."

Lingling paused mid-typing, fingers twitching over the keyboard.

"...Get out of my office."

Freen, grinning, took another sip of coffee. "So whipped."

Lingling threw a pen at her.

Orm had barely stepped foot into Blooming Beans when she was met with dramatic wails.

"She's here!" someone whispered like an alert had been issued.

"Oh my god, she's back... but the ring... THE RING!"

Orm blinked, staring at the group of regulars gathered at the corner table. A few of them were huddled together, eyes locked on her left hand—specifically, on the very noticeable diamond ring on her finger.

She sighed, bracing herself.

Becky, already enjoying the spectacle, leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee with the satisfaction of someone watching reality TV unfold in real time.

"Ah, yes. The prodigal wife returns," she announced grandly.

One of the regulars, dramatically clutching her chest, pointed at Orm's ring with a trembling finger. "You... you're wearing it."

Orm glanced at her own hand. "Uh... yeah?"

Another one wiped away an invisible tear. "It's real."

A particularly bold admirer, who had been waiting for an opening, stood up, shaking their head in despair. "We can still fight this. Maybe it's not legally binding?"

Orm choked on air. "Excuse me?"

Becky, thriving in the chaos, slid a tissue across the counter with a solemn nod. "I told you all. We had to act sooner. Now it's too late."

A third admirer whispered to another, looking heartbroken. "She was ours. Now she's hers."

Orm, laughing at the ridiculousness: "I was never yours."

A loud, mournful sigh filled the café. "Then what were we, Orm?"

Becky, biting back laughter, clapped her hands together. "Alright, everyone, deep breaths! We must all accept reality. The Coffee Queen is officially off the market."

One admirer whimpered. "But we missed our Coffee Queen."

That, at least, made Orm soften slightly.

"Well," she grinned, rolling up her sleeves, "if it makes you feel better, I missed making coffee."

A few sniffles turned into hopeful gasps.

"You did?"

Orm laughed. "Of course. Now, is anyone going to order or are we just running a support group for my lost fan club?"

And Then It Got Worse.

Just as things were settling down, Becky, who had been mindlessly scrolling through her phone, suddenly froze.

Her eyes squinted.

Her lips pursed.

Then, with the slow realization of imminent doom, she looked up and muttered, "Uh oh."

Orm, mid-sip of her own coffee, paused. "What?"

Becky, casually turning her phone screen around, revealed an Instagram story—posted by one of the café patrons.

The footage?

The fan club's dramatic breakdown over Orm's wedding ring. A close-up of Orm making coffee, looking effortlessly charming. The caption? "She's back! But will the Ice Queen approve?"

A horrified gasp came from the admirers.

Orm, suddenly hyper-aware of her choices in life: "Oh. No."

Becky, whistling, sliding her phone back into her pocket: "Sooo... wifey might see this. And I think she won't be very happy about it."

Silence.

Then—

One of the admirers gasped dramatically. "She'll come for us."

Another, clutching their heart: "We messed up."

Becky, taking another sip of coffee, shrugged. "I mean, I'm fine. She won't come for me. But you?" She pointed at Orm. "Yeah, you're done for."

Orm ran a stressed hand down her face. "She is not a supervillain."

Becky, grinning: "Again... if the crown fits."

Meanwhile, at Kwong Corp.

Lingling sat at her desk, phone in hand, watching the now-viral video with an unreadable expression.

Her fingers tapped slowly against the desk.

Her eyes narrowed.

She placed the phone down calmly.

Lingling, in an icy tone: "...I leave her for one day."

Her assistant, standing nearby, immediately took three steps back.

Just then, Freen waltzed into the office, blissfully unaware of the brewing storm.

Freen, cheerfully setting down a coffee: "Oh, you saw it?"

Lingling's sharp gaze lifted.

Freen, realizing her mistake too late: "Ah. Yep. Okay. So. Do we panic now or later?"

Lingling sat perfectly still at her desk, the only movement coming from the slow, rhythmic tapping of her manicured fingers against the mahogany surface.

Her phone lay face-up in front of her, still open on the now-viral video of Orm at Blooming Beans, laughing, charming customers, and worst of all—surrounded by her mournful admirers.

A comment says: "... is the Ice Queen watching?"

Yes. The Ice Queen was very much watching.

Freen, sensing impending doom, took a cautious step backward.

"Ling..." she tried, her tone neutral but wary. "It's... not that big of a deal, right?"

Lingling's sharp eyes flicked up, and Freen immediately regretted speaking.

"...Not a big deal?" Lingling repeated, her voice icier than the Arctic.

Freen winced. "I mean, y'know, it's just a video. A totally harmless, innocent video. A video where, okay, sure, Orm's fangirls and fanboys are mourning her marriage and maybe thirsting a little, but—"

Lingling's eyes narrowed.

Freen shut up immediately.

There was a heavy pause, and then, in a controlled yet terrifyingly even voice, Lingling said, "I just want to understand something."

Freen swallowed. "...Okay?"

Lingling leaned forward, fingers still tapping. One. Slow. Tap. At. A. Time.

"So I get married." Tap.

"I go to work." Tap.

"I spend a single day handling important business." Tap.

"And while I'm being a responsible adult... my wife..." Tap.

"...goes back to her café..." Tap.

"...and lets her fan club weep over her like a fallen warrior?"

Freen pressed her lips together, nodding slowly. "Yeah, uh... when you say it out loud like that, it does sound a little... problematic."

Lingling exhaled through her nose, very slowly, like she was internally calculating the amount of patience she had left for today.

Freen, despite her own survival instincts, couldn't help herself.

"...But like, hey, at least there weren't strippers, right?"

Lingling's glare snapped up instantly.

Freen immediately threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay! Nope! Bad timing. I see that now."

Lingling stood up so smoothly that it was somehow more intimidating than slamming her chair back.

Her movements were controlled. Precise. Lethally elegant.

She grabbed her phone, her blazer, and absolute authority over the next five minutes.

Freen, watching her gather her things, panicked slightly.

"...Uh. Where exactly are you going?"

Lingling's lips curled into a cold smirk.

"To go remind my wife..." She paused, sliding on her blazer with immaculate precision, "that she is, in fact, married."

Freen watched as Lingling strode calmly but with purpose toward the door.

"...Oh no," she muttered to herself. "She's gonna make an entrance, isn't she?"

Orm, blissfully unaware that her wife was en route to reclaim her territory, was laughing as she finished crafting an extra intricate latte for one of the customers.

"Alright, here you go," she said, sliding the cup forward with a grin. "One vanilla latte, extra fancy, just for you."

The customer blushed slightly as she took the cup. "You always make the best ones..."

Becky, catching this interaction, smirked and nudged Freen (who had just arrived from the office, clearly out of breath). "Uh-oh. Someone's gonna die today."

Freen, hands on her knees, panting: "She's. Coming."

Becky, grinning even wider: "Oooh. This is gonna be good."

The café door swung open.

And in walked Lingling Kwong.

It was like the temperature dropped five degrees.

The air changed instantly.

One of Orm's admirers choked on their coffee.

Another ducked their head like they had just been caught sneaking out past curfew.

Becky, to Freen, in a whisper: "Do you hear that?"

Freen, confused: "Hear what?"

Becky: "The sound of judgment."

Lingling, still poised, still collected, strode directly toward Orm with an unreadable expression.

Orm, seeing her, perked up immediately.

"Ling! Hey, baby!" Orm greeted her, beaming. "What are you doing here?"

Lingling reached her, placing both hands on Orm's waist, and in a voice that was equal parts sweet and threatening, she asked, "Having fun, my love?"

Orm blinked. "...Yes?"

Lingling's hands tightened slightly.

Orm, realizing this was not the correct answer: "I mean, uh, I was just—"

Lingling leaned in just enough to whisper: "Darling, why are your admirers looking at me like I'm about to exile them?"

Orm glanced around. Sure enough, her fan club was watching like they were witnessing a real-life thriller.

One of them had their phone halfway to their face, unsure if they should film.

Becky, now fully invested in the drama: "God, I love this show."

Freen, muttering: "This isn't a show, Becky."

Becky: "Then why am I entertained?"

Lingling, still perfectly calm: "Should I be concerned, darling?"

Orm, sweating slightly: "No, no. There's absolutely nothing to be concerned about—"

Before Orm could finish, Lingling grabbed her chin gently, tilted it up and kissed her.

Right there.

Right in front of everyone.

The café went silent.

The fan club gasped collectively.

Freen, to Becky: "There it is."

Becky, nodding: "Establishing dominance. Classic."

Lingling pulled back just enough, locking eyes with Orm, her voice still syrupy sweet.

"Good," she murmured, thumb tracing along Orm's jawline. "Then they can all witness how married you are."

Orm, brain still buffering from the kiss, let out a weak laugh. "Wow, okay. Message received."

Lingling turned toward the room with a slow, knowing glance.

The admirers wilted instantly.

Becky, whispering: "Oof. R.I.P."

Lingling, now fully satisfied, smiled at Orm one last time before turning on her heel.

"I'll see you at home, my love," she said smoothly before gracefully striding out of the café like she hadn't just caused a small emotional crisis.

The door shut behind her.

Silence.

A full ten seconds passed before Orm exhaled, looking at Becky and Freen. "That wasn't scary at all."

Becky, sipping her coffee: "Mhm. Sure. I definitely didn't see your soul leave your body for a second there."

Orm groaned, covering her face. "God, I love my wife."

The fan club mourned silently in the background.

Orm had barely stepped into their penthouse when she collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a pillow. "I am never going back to work."

Lingling, gracefully setting down her purse, completely unfazed, simply shrugged. "That's fine. Wifey's got it all covered."

Orm's body went rigid.

Slowly, she peeked out from behind the pillow.

"...What?"

Lingling, smiling serenely, casually took a seat beside her, crossing one leg over the other like a queen settling onto her throne. "I said, wifey's got it covered. You can retire anytime, love."

Orm sat up so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

Her eyes narrowed. Her Spidey senses tingled.

Lingling was being too calm.

Orm stared at her, suspicious. "You're... way too pleased with yourself right now."

Lingling, completely relaxed, scrolling on her phone, smirking like she had just won a lifetime achievement award, was too calm. Orm's stomach dropped.

"...Ling."

Lingling, not looking up: "Mmm?"

"...What did you do?"

Lingling tilted her head slightly, her smirk growing. "Oh, I don't know." She finally turned the phone toward Orm. "Ask the internet."

Orm's soul left her body.

It was a video.

A very familiar video.

Of their kiss.

The kiss.

The public, unprompted, completely unnecessary—yet devastatingly effective kiss.

And it wasn't just any video.

It. Was. VIRAL.

The caption?

"THE ICE QUEEN JUST CLAIMED HER QUEEN. WE WON, EVERYONE. WE WON."

Orm let out a strangled noise as she scrolled through the millions of views and mercilessly chaotic comments:

"Lingling didn't just kiss Orm—she annihilated the fan club in one move. This is villain-level strategy." "That wasn't a display of affection. That was a public execution." "Petition to rename Blooming Beans to Kwong's Territory." "Lingling is the only person I know who could use a kiss as a business takeover." "I used to be in Orm's fan club. Now I'm in the Lingling Kwong Protection Cult. She's too powerful." "Becky. Drop. The. Extended. Footage."

Orm, scrolling in horror: "This is everywhere!"

Lingling, looking immensely pleased with herself: "As it should be."

Orm covered her face. "Oh my god."

Lingling, pretending to be thoughtful: "Oh, I particularly liked this one—'You can literally see the moment Orm realizes she belongs to Lingling and Lingling only.'"

Orm, grabbing a pillow and launching it at her: "STOP READING THEM OUT LOUD."

Lingling, dodging effortlessly, still scrolling: "Here's another classic: 'Imagine having a WHOLE FAN CLUB and not even looking at them once because your wife exists.'"

Orm clutched her chest. "LING."

Lingling gracefully leaned back on the couch, entirely unbothered. "Yes, my love?"

Orm's eye twitched. "DID YOU PLAN THIS?"

Lingling, lifting her cup of tea with eerie elegance: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Orm pointed wildly at the screen. "YOU STRATEGICALLY DID THIS."

Lingling sipped her tea. "Oh, darling. I always strategize."

Orm gasped, horrified. "YOU SET ME UP."

Lingling, sipping again, looking disgustingly smug: "And you fell right into it."

Orm collapsed back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. "I married a tyrant."

Lingling, pleased: "Yes, you did."

Lingling softened, chuckling as she set her phone down and leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Orm's temple.

"Well, my love," she whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction, "I hope you really love me, because after this, there is no escape."

Orm peeked out from the pillow, sighing dramatically. "Great. So I'm not just married—I'm branded."

Lingling tilted her head, amused. "I thought you already knew that."

"I should be mad," Orm grumbled, "but I love you too much to care."

Lingling's smugness melted into something softer. "Good. I love you too, baby."