Overprotective Wife Era Begins

Orm loved her café.

She loved the warm, inviting atmosphere she had carefully built over the years—a space that smelled like freshly brewed coffee and felt like home.

It was her sanctuary. Her haven. A place where she could work, chat with customers, and exist in perfect harmony with the sacred art of caffeine.

At least, that's how it used to be.

Because today?

Today, Lingling had arrived.

And she had transformed an entire corner of the café into... a corporate headquarters.

Orm stood frozen in horror, taking in the scene before her.

Lingling had set up a full-fledged mini-office in the back corner.

Her assistant sat there, typing away on a laptop, reviewing contracts like this was some high-stakes boardroom meeting.

A sleek, expensive-looking desk had materialized by the window.

There was even a printer.

A printer.

Orm exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "Ling."

"Yes?"

Orm gestured wildly. "What. Is. This."

"Oh, this? My new workstation."

"In my café?"

"Correct."

Lingling finally met her eyes, looking utterly at peace with her life choices. "Since I'll be here every day, I figured I might as well get comfortable."

Orm's brain stalled. "Every day?"

"Yes."

"Lingling."

"Orm."

"You work at a billion-dollar company."

"Mhm. And?"

"And you're setting up an office... here?"

"That is an accurate assessment, yes."

Orm closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, massaging her temples like a woman on the verge. "I—why?"

There was a beat of silence.

Then—

"Ling." Orm, continued. "Why do I feel like you're standing way too close?"

"Because I am."

Orm sighed harder. "Why?"

"Because I'm supervising."

She finally turned, arching an incredulous eyebrow. "Supervising what?"

Lingling's eyes narrowed. "You're standing too much. Sit down."

"Lingling—"

"Orm, do not make me carry you to the nearest chair. Because I will."

The morning rush was in full swing.

Orm was taking orders with practiced ease, her employees worked like a well-oiled machine, and customers sipped their drinks in quiet contentment.

Everything was running smoothly.

And then... there was Lingling.

Who was monitoring the café like a high-security surveillance system.

Every time Orm lifted something heavier than a coffee cup, Lingling's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Every time Orm took a step too fast, Lingling's fingers twitched, as if prepared to lunge forward and intercept.

Every time Orm so much as looked a little tired, Lingling seemed one minor inconvenience away from shutting down the entire establishment.

Behind the counter, Becky was barely holding it together.

"Freen." She nudged her friend, who was nursing her usual iced coffee. "Freen, do you see this?"

Freen, who had been watching Lingling's antics for the past fifteen minutes, nodded slowly. "I've seen Lingling be protective before. But this? This is a new level of unhinged."

Becky smirked. "Should we mess with her?"

"Absolutely."

Becky bided her time. She waited until Orm reached for a plate of pastries, her hands barely skimming the ceramic—

Then she gasped dramatically.

"OH NO, ORM! YOU'RE LIFTING SOMETHING! BE CAREFUL, WHAT IF IT'S TOO HEAVY?!"

Lingling's head snapped up so fast she nearly whiplashed herself.

"WHAT?!"

Orm shot Becky a murderous glare. "You are so annoying."

Becky grinned, unrepentant. "What?! I'm just looking out for you! Like Lingling! Maybe you should sit down, Orm. Rest your delicate little feet."

Lingling nodded immediately, dead serious. "YES. Becky is right."

Orm groaned. "Oh my god."

Freen smirked, leaning back. "You should also avoid sharp objects. What if you accidentally cut yourself?"

Lingling's eyes widened in horror. "OH MY GOD, YES. ORM, NO MORE USING KNIVES."

"FREEN, STOP ENCOURAGING HER."

Becky snickered. "Ling, be honest. How bad is this gonna get? Are you gonna start making her wear bubble wrap?"

Lingling paused.

Then, completely serious—

"Not a bad idea."

Orm groaned louder. "LINGLING."

By now, the entire café had caught on to Lingling's behavior.

Customers giggled behind their cups.

And Becky? Becky was thriving.

"Ling," she grinned, leaning over the counter. "You've always been obsessed with your wife, but this? This is a new level. Like, we need to set a limit."

Freen nodded. "Seriously, you're acting like she's made of glass."

Lingling huffed. "I am simply taking the necessary precautions."

"Ling, she's not made of sugar," Becky teased. "She's literally fine."

"For now," Lingling countered, arms crossed. "Until an accident happens."

Orm threw her hands up. "Lingling, please. What do you think is going to happen? That I'm going to collapse after making one latte?"

Lingling didn't answer immediately.

Then—

With the straightest face ever—

"What if the espresso machine explodes?"

Orm blinked. "Ling, that's not how coffee machines work."

"What if you faint out of nowhere?!"

"I HAVE NEVER FAINTED IN MY LIFE."

Becky clutched her chest, gagging dramatically. "OH MY GOD, THE PROTECTIVENESS IS TOO MUCH. IT'S TOO MUCH."

Freen shook her head. "Ling, I knew you were territorial, but I think we've hit a crisis level."

Lingling sighed, rubbing her temples.

Then, after a long pause—

"Well, what do you expect? My wife is pregnant."

Dead. Silence.

The entire café froze.

Freen stopped mid-sip.

Becky dropped the spoon she was holding.

A customer in the back actually gasped.

And then—

"I'M SORRY, WHAT?!" Becky shrieked.

Freen choked on her drink. "WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. DID YOU JUST SAY PREGNANT?!"

Orm bit her lip, trying (and failing) not to laugh. "Yep."

Becky grabbed Freen's arm, clutching it like a lifeline. "Freen, I think I'm about to pass out."

"Same," Freen wheezed. "Ling, YOU CANNOT JUST DROP THAT LIKE A CASUAL WEATHER UPDATE."

Lingling blinked. "Why not?"

"BECAUSE THAT'S HUGE?!" Becky threw her hands up. "YOU'RE HAVING A BABY, AND YOU JUST DROPPED IT LIKE YOU WERE ANNOUNCING A MEETING?!"

Lingling shrugged. "I mean, technically, I was announcing a new project."

Freen looked like she needed to lie down. "This is insane."

Becky dramatically placed a hand over her heart. "Oh my god. Lingling as a mother. Orm as a mother. THE WORLD IS NOT READY."

Orm smirked, wrapping an arm around Lingling's waist. "Nope. But too bad, because it's happening."

Lingling sighed, but there was a small, proud smile on her face.

"And I will make sure nothing happens to them."

And just like that, her reign of overprotectiveness had only just begun.

If there was one thing Lingling and Orm were certain of, it was that their parents were not emotionally prepared for what they were about to hear.

Which, to be fair, was understandable—because even Lingling, the CEO of a billion-dollar company, a woman who prided herself on being composed, calculated, and always in control, was still processing the fact that she was going to be a mother.

And if she was still coming to terms with it?

Their parents were about to have a collective meltdown of historic proportions.

So, naturally, they decided to break the news in the most dangerous way possible—

By inviting both families over for dinner.

The first ten minutes were deceptively normal.

Too normal.

Which was probably why Lingling's mother narrowed her eyes halfway through the meal, suspicion practically radiating off of her.

"You two never invite both families over at the same time," she said, setting down her chopsticks. "What's going on?"

Orm, ever the smooth talker, smiled effortlessly. "We're just having dinner."

Lingling's father, who had been calmly sipping his tea, lifted an eyebrow. "This isn't about that time Orm tried to start a rooftop herb garden and nearly set off the fire alarms, is it?"

"HEY!" Orm pointed her fork at him, scandalized. "That was an accident!"

Orm's mother sighed, unimpressed. "Just get to the point before I assume the worst."

Lingling, ever the strategic powerhouse, took a deep breath, sat up straighter, and said—

"Orm is pregnant."

Silence.

For exactly five seconds.

And then—

"W-WHAT?!"

Chaos.

Orm's mother was the first to scream.

Lingling's father dropped his chopsticks.

Orm's dad choked on his soup.

Lingling's mother just stared, mouth slightly open, as if someone had just told her the sky was green and gravity no longer existed.

"Pregnant?!" Orm's dad finally managed, eyes bulging.

Orm beamed. "Yep!"

Her mother burst into tears immediately. "My baby is having a baby—"

"OH MY GOD—" Lingling's mother suddenly covered her face, shaking her head like she couldn't process reality.

Lingling's father just kept blinking at her, as if trying to reboot his brain. "You're—you're going to be a mother?"

Lingling tilted her head. "Yes?"

Her mother sobbed harder. "This is too much. I never thought I'd live to see this day."

"Mom," Lingling sighed. "I am a fully functioning adult."

"ARE YOU?!" her mother wailed. "YOU WERE SO COLD. YOU NEVER EVEN LIKED DATING. AND NOW YOU'RE MARRIED AND—AND—HAVING A CHILD?!"

Orm grinned, patting Lingling's back. "Told you, babe. No one ever thought you'd be domestic."

Lingling exhaled slowly. "I regret everything."

Orm's father suddenly shot up from his seat. "Wait—how far along are you?! Do you know the gender?! Do you need anything?! Are you eating enough?! Is Lingling stressing you out?!"

Orm laughed. "We just found out recently, so we don't know the gender yet. But we'll find out soon!"

Lingling's mother wiped her tears dramatically, sniffling. "Oh, my baby's having a baby. I—" She suddenly turned to Lingling's father, grabbing his arm. "Do you realize what this means?! We're going to be grandparents! GRANDPARENTS! I AM NOT READY TO BE OLD!"

"Too late," Lingling muttered.

Her mother smacked her arm. "HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR YOUR MOTHER, LINGLING."

Orm's dad still looked like he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown. "I—oh my god, a baby. A grandchild. OUR grandchild!" He turned to Orm's mom, grabbing her hands. "Do you remember when we used to beg them for a Kwong Setharatanapong heir?!"

Orm's mother wiped her tears, nodding. "I thought it would never happen! I was preparing myself to die without a grandchild!"

Lingling rubbed her temples. "That's dramatic."

"NO, LINGLING, IT IS NOT," her mother snapped. "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I WAITED FOR THIS? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I SUFFERED WATCHING YOU WORK 20 HOURS A DAY THINKING I'D NEVER GET GRANDCHILDREN?!"

"She has a point," Orm whispered.

Lingling shot her a glare. "Do not encourage this."

Orm grinned. "Too late, babe. The floodgates are open."

And indeed, there was no stopping them now.

"A baby," Orm's mom sniffled, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. "A tiny little baby. Do you need anything? Money? More food? A house? I will buy you another house if you want it."

Lingling sighed. "Mom, we are billionaires."

"AND YET I WILL STILL BUY YOU A HOUSE, DON'T TEST ME."

Orm's father, who had been pacing back and forth in a full-blown emotional spiral, suddenly froze. "WAIT. What about names?! Have you chosen a name?! It has to be powerful! Meaningful! Cultural! Should we consult an astrologer?!"

"Dear god, please let the child be normal," Lingling muttered under her breath.

But Orm?

Orm was having the time of her life.

She leaned over, grinning at Lingling. "Babe, this is the best entertainment I've had all year."

Lingling groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I want to die."

Beaming, Orm turned back to their parents. "Well, don't worry about the name just yet! We've got time. And plenty of baby shopping to do."

Orm's mother squeaked, grabbing Orm's hand. "We should go shopping tomorrow! Baby clothes! Cribs! EVERYTHING!"

Lingling, resigned, simply picked up her glass of water and downed the entire thing. "So this is my life now."

Orm patted her knee, amused. "Yup. And it's only going to get worse."

Lingling stared at her.

Then, finally—

"I regret nothing."

And with that, the night continued in a chaotic flurry of baby talk, over-the-top reactions, and grandparental panic planning.

Their child was already the most anticipated Kwong Setharatanapong heir in history.

And it hadn't even been born yet.

Once the initial wave of emotional chaos settled, the inevitable teasing began.

Which, unfortunately for Lingling, coincided perfectly with Milk and Freen arriving fashionably late—armed with drinks in hand and absolutely zero mercy in their hearts.

Freen didn't even wait to settle into her chair before she smirked across the table at Lingling and said—

"So, Dad, how are you feeling?"

Lingling froze.

Stiffened, even.

Orm, meanwhile, immediately burst into laughter, nearly tipping over her glass in the process.

"Don't start," Lingling warned, her voice low and dangerous.

"What?" Milk grinned innocently, sipping her iced latte like she wasn't already plotting further chaos. "It's a valid question. You're gonna be a parent now, Lingling. You've basically ascended into dad mode."

"I am not a dad."

"Are you sure?" Freen leaned back in her chair, eyeing Lingling with mock seriousness. "Because you've already got the overprotectiveness down."

"She set up an entire corporate office in my café just to monitor me," Orm added helpfully, grinning. "Tell me that's not a dad move."

Milk gasped, her eyes going wide with exaggerated shock. "Oh my god. She is the dad."

"I AM NOT THE DAD."

"You are absolutely the dad," Freen declared, nodding sagely. "The energy is there."

Milk nodded solemnly, gesturing at Lingling with her drink. "It's in the way she stands. Look at that posture. That's some strong dad energy right there."

Lingling rubbed her temples, muttering under her breath. "I'm going to file a lawsuit against both of you."

"Typical dad behavior," Freen sighed, shaking her head like she was witnessing a classic case of paternal grumpiness.

Lingling closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, the picture of a woman desperately trying to find inner peace amidst a battlefield of chaos.

Milk, sensing her silence, leaned over to Freen and whispered, "Do you think she's rethinking all her life choices right now?"

"Oh, definitely," Freen whispered back.

But Lingling's composure was ironclad. After a moment, she opened her eyes, exhaled slowly, and glanced around the table with the look of someone resigned to her fate. "If this is just the beginning," she muttered, "I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?"

"Not a chance," Milk chirped.

Freen clinked her glass with Milk's, grinning. "It's a lifetime subscription, Ling. No refunds, no cancellations."

Lingling rolled her eyes but didn't bother responding. Arguing would only fuel them further.

And yet—

As Orm's laughter finally softened, she reached under the table, her hand sliding into Lingling's and giving it a gentle squeeze.

When Lingling glanced down, Orm was looking at her, eyes shining with love and mischief, her smile warm and soft.

And in that moment, despite the teasing, the chaos, and the inevitable embarrassment, Lingling realized—

She wouldn't change a thing.

Not her overprotectiveness.

Not her chaos-loving friends.

And especially not Orm, who made every moment—no matter how ridiculous—worth it.

Because if she was going to be a "dad," at least she'd be doing it with the love of her life by her side.

Lingling squeezed Orm's hand back, her lips quirking into the faintest smile.

"Fine," she said, leaning closer to Orm. "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook for encouraging this nonsense."

Orm's grin only widened. "Wouldn't dream of it, babe."

And as Milk and Freen launched into yet another round of dad jokes, Lingling sat back, her heart a little fuller, her world a little brighter, and her "dad energy" fully intact.