Baby Kicks

Orm was finally having a peaceful moment.

For the first time in weeks, she wasn't battling strange cravings, crying over emotional commercials, or spiraling into a completely unnecessary breakdown over a documentary about sea turtles (seriously, why did that baby turtle have to struggle so much?).

She was just wrapped in a blanket, sipping tea and watching mindless reality TV shows.

It was calm.

It was relaxing.

It was perfect.

Until—

She felt it.

A tiny, faint movement inside her stomach.

She froze.

And then—

It happened again.

A small but definite kick.

Her eyes widened.

Oh.

Oh.

The babies were moving.

"LING!"

Lingling, who had been in the other room reviewing billion-dollar contracts, appeared in record-breaking speed.

Like, teleportation-level speed.

She looked ready for war.

"What happened?!" she demanded, eyes frantically scanning Orm for injuries, threats, invaders, or potential acts of treason.

Orm, still holding her stomach, grinned.

"Babe, the babies are kicking!"

Lingling's expression didn't change.

She just blinked.

"...Excuse me?"

"The twins, babe! They just moved! I think they kicked!"

Lingling stared at Orm's stomach.

Then at Orm's face.

Then back at her stomach.

Then—

She panicked.

"Is that supposed to happen?!"

Orm laughed. "Yes, babe. It's normal. They're just moving."

"That sounds violent."

Lingling was already pacing.

"Are they supposed to be doing that? Are they fighting? What if one is trying to overthrow the other?"

Orm snorted. "Babe, they're the size of oranges. What kind of coup do you think they're planning?"

Lingling threw her hands up.

"I don't know, Orm! You don't know! No one knows what goes on in there!"

Orm, barely holding in her laughter, patted the couch.

"Come here, feel it."

Lingling stopped mid-pace.

She narrowed her eyes.

"You want me to touch the... battlefield?"

"It's not a battlefield, Ling. It's our children moving for the first time."

Lingling hesitated.

She squinted suspiciously at Orm's belly, as if it might fight back.

Then, slowly, she approached and sat beside Orm.

Orm grabbed her hand and gently placed it on her stomach.

They waited.

Nothing.

Orm frowned. "Wait, they were just moving a second ago—"

Then—

A sharp little kick.

Lingling yanked her hand back so fast she almost fell off the couch.

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Orm burst into laughter.

"That was our babies kicking, babe!"

Lingling pointed at Orm's stomach like it had personally attacked her.

"THAT FELT LIKE AN AGGRESSIVE ACTION."

"Babe, they're literally babies."

"NO. That was an intentional kick. They KNOW what they're doing."

Orm was wheezing.

Lingling was still staring at Orm's stomach like it had declared war on her family.

"Maybe they don't like me," Lingling muttered. "What if they like you more?"

"Ling, they don't even know who we are yet."

"Then why did one of them kick me directly?"

"Because they're MOVING, babe. They don't have GPS tracking."

Lingling folded her arms.

"That one kicked me specifically. That was a STATEMENT."

Lingling, still suspicious, sat down and stared at Orm's stomach.

"Okay. Listen up, you two."

Orm rolled her eyes. "Babe, they can't hear you yet."

"I DON'T CARE."

Lingling cleared her throat.

"I am your mother. I am the reason you will have a life of luxury, comfort and the best education money can buy. I have done nothing but love and protect you and THIS is how you choose to treat me?"

Orm was giggling uncontrollably.

"Ling, please—"

"I expect RESPECT in this household. You are not even BORN yet, and you are already testing my patience. This is NOT how we behave toward our provider."

Silence.

Then—

Another kick.

Right where Lingling's hand had been.

Lingling stood up so fast the blanket fell to the floor.

"THAT ONE WAS PERSONAL."

Orm was dying.

"BABE—"

"I AM BEING TARGETED."

"You are NOT—"

"I NEED TO LIE DOWN."

Lingling dramatically walked away, muttering about "disrespectful children" and "how she was already losing control of her household."

After a full hour of pacing, sipping water like it was medicine for betrayal, and muttering about "ungrateful children" under her breath, Lingling finally decided to try again.

She had taken the time to reflect.

To reassess.

To mentally prepare.

This time, she would approach with calm authority.

No more sudden reactions. No more overthinking.

Just poise, control and the commanding presence of a woman who ran an entire corporation.

With one last deep breath, she sat beside Orm on the couch.

"Alright," Lingling said, steeling herself. "I am going to place my hand on your stomach. I expect a proper response this time."

Orm tried not to laugh. "Babe, they're literally fetuses. What kind of response are you expecting? A handshake?"

Lingling ignored her.

With slow, measured precision, she gently placed her palm against Orm's stomach.

Nothing.

Lingling let out a satisfied breath.

"See?" she said smugly. "They understand authority now."

Orm snorted.

"Babe, they're probably sleeping—"

BAM.

A huge kick.

Directly under Lingling's hand.

Lingling launched herself backward so hard she nearly knocked over Orm's tea.

The tea wobbled.

Teetered.

Then tipped over completely, spilling onto the table.

Lingling froze.

"WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!"

Orm was cry-laughing at this point, clutching her stomach.

"BABE—"

"NO, I AM DONE. I AM BEING BULLIED IN MY OWN HOME."

Lingling pointed dramatically at Orm's stomach.

"FINE. YOU WIN. BUT I'M STILL YOUR MOTHER AND I WILL REMEMBER THIS."

Orm, still wheezing from laughter, reached up and kissed her cheek.

"You're so dramatic."

Lingling crossed her arms.

Pouting.

Absolutely pouting.

That night, after an entire evening of emotional defeat at the hands (or feet?) of two unborn babies, Lingling should have been recovering.

She should have been asleep, dreaming of her next corporate takeover, regaining her composure, and forgetting the sheer humiliation of being kicked into submission by two tiny humans.

And yet—

Here she was.

Hovering.

Perched on the edge of the bed like a watchful hawk, her hand firmly pressed against Orm's stomach, her gaze intense, calculating.

She was waiting.

Orm, nestled comfortably beneath the blankets, turned her head and smirked.

"You're still at it?" she teased.

Lingling shushed her immediately.

"Shh."

She tilted her head slightly, eyes focused, as if she could somehow sense the babies' movements through sheer force of will.

"They might move again."

Orm chuckled, watching her wife with endless amusement.

"So you forgive them for 'attacking' you?"

Lingling let out a deep, suffering sigh.

Like a benevolent queen pardoning two tiny rebels.

"They are young. They don't yet understand the concept of respecting their parents."

And then—

A soft kick.

Lingling gasped.

Her eyes widened, filled with absolute wonder, her entire expression melting into something softer than Orm had ever seen before.

"I THINK THAT WAS A LOVE TAP."

Orm shook her head, laughing.

"Oh my god, you're already whipped."

Lingling, ignoring the slander, gently rubbed her stomach, her touch deliberate and reverent.

"Listen, my little ones," she murmured, voice suddenly gentle, affectionate—downright soft.

Orm's breath hitched slightly.

Because this was new.

She had never seen Lingling like this.

Not as CEO Lingling, not as Ice Queen Lingling, not even as Jealous Lunatic Lingling.

This was Mom Lingling.

And it was so, so unfairly endearing.

Lingling leaned down slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to Orm's stomach.

"I accept your apology," she whispered against the warm skin, lips brushing softly before placing another delicate kiss.

Orm blinked.

Her heart stopped.

"Apology?"

Lingling nodded seriously.

"Yes. They have realized their errors and are now seeking my favor."

Orm snorted. "Is that what's happening?"

"Yes. Just know," Lingling continued, still kissing Orm's stomach between words, "I will always win in this household."

Orm rolled her eyes.

"You do realize you already lost, right?"

Lingling ignored her.

Instead, she rested her forehead against Orm's stomach for a moment, her hand still warm and protective over her growing bump.

Then, in a voice so soft, so filled with love it made Orm's chest ache—

"Goodnight, my little heiresses. Your mother loves you very much."

Orm, watching in stunned silence, felt something warm bloom in her chest.

She swallowed.

Then, unable to resist, smirked.

"Which mother?"

Lingling did not hesitate.

She lifted her head, meeting Orm's gaze with a smug smile.

"The one they kicked first."

She tilted her chin up confidently.

"Clearly, I'm their favorite now."

Orm gasped.

"Babe—"

Lingling smirked.

Orm gasped again.

"BABE."

Lingling, pleased with herself, leaned up and kissed Orm—slow, deep, and impossibly soft.

It was unfair.

Completely, utterly unfair how effortlessly Lingling could go from dramatic villain to the most loving woman on the planet.

Orm melted into the kiss, sighing as Lingling's lips moved against hers, slow and deliberate.

Lingling pulled away slightly, just enough to whisper—

"I love you."

Orm felt weak.

"I—"

Lingling, still smug, pressed one last kiss to Orm's lips—then promptly turned back to whispering sweet nothings to the twins.

Orm flopped onto her pillow in defeat.

"I cannot believe this. I carried them. I MADE them. And you think YOU'RE the favorite?!"

Lingling gently patted Orm's shoulder.

"Don't be jealous, sweetheart. We can't all be winners."

Orm launched a pillow at her.

Lingling dodged effortlessly.

And just like that—

Lingling Kwong, CEO, Ice Queen, feared business mogul—

Had officially been defeated, reformed and completely, hopelessly whipped by her unborn children.