Chapter 15 - The Chaos Continues - Orm said WHAT?

Orm was utterly exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. The past few days had turned her life into a chaotic rollercoaster of public humiliation, desperate attempts at amends, and Lingling Kwong doing everything in her cool, unshakeable way to make Orm suffer. There'd been a canteen debacle, frantic apologies, and even an unexpected kiss that left Orm completely speechless. It was too much.

Now, all Orm wanted was to sleep. She lay on her bed, arms outstretched as if trying to embrace the ceiling, while the day's events replayed in her mind on an endless loop. That kiss haunted her—Lingling leaning in with soft lips and a warmth that almost made Orm's heart explode, capped off by that infuriating, smug smirk and the words, "Call me."

Orm groaned, burying her face in her pillow. NO. She was not going to overthink this—at least, not tonight. Not ever. Reluctantly, she grabbed her phone and opened their chat. Knowing Lingling was dead serious about those words, Orm wasn't ready for that level of commitment. Instead, she typed one simple message:

ORM: Goodnight.

She hesitated. Should it be a smiley face? A flirty tease? Anything to soften the blow? But she was already risking her sanity, so she hit send. Almost immediately, before she could even put her phone down, it lit up with a reply:

LINGLING: Goodnight, Orm.

Orm's heart practically stopped. That was TOO FAST. She stared at the screen, disbelieving—Lingling... was waiting. Maybe Lingling was just on her phone, maybe it was a coincidence, maybe... Orm swallowed hard, turned off her phone, yanked her blanket over her head, and screamed silently into her pillow.

Morning came, and for the first time in weeks, everything felt... normal. No sudden ambushes, no unexpected confrontations, no cryptic legal analogies aimed straight at her fragile heart. Orm got up, freshened up, grabbed her coffee, and strolled onto campus like a free woman. No tension, no chaos, no public humiliation lurking around the corner. Becky and May didn't immediately bombard her with questions; no one was staring at her like she was the star of a live soap opera. Life was good—finally.

Of course, one tiny memory kept creeping into her mind: that one kiss, that soft touch, that fateful "Call me." But Orm decided to ignore it. She was fine. Totally fine. Not thinking about it... not even a little. (Okay, maybe a little.) But still—it was just a one-time thing. She could move on. Totally.

Orm was casually walking through campus, coffee in hand, confidently convincing herself that everything was back on track. And then—"Orm!" came a cheerful shout. She turned to see a cute senior from the business faculty striding toward her. Tall. Handsome. Confident. One of those campus heartthrobs who never had trouble talking to people. Which was why it was so weird that he looked... nervous?

"Hey," Orm greeted, tilting her head.

He smiled awkwardly. "Uh, can I talk to you for a second?"

Orm blinked. "Sure?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around as if he were about to reveal a scandal. She could tell he was working up to something—and that's when a bad feeling crept in. A very, very bad feeling.

Clearing his throat, he finally managed, "So, um..." He hesitated, then said, "Are you still single?"

Orm's brain crashed. Her entire system shut down. Excuse me? EXCUSE ME??? "Uh..." was all that came out. Because, well—because what did that even mean? He was asking about her relationship status. And for the first time, Orm had to actually think about it. Technically, she was single. She hadn't agreed to anything with Lingling. But then—Lingling Kwong had kissed her, told her to call, and replied immediately to her goodnight message. That didn't exactly mean nothing, did it? Or did it? Orm swallowed hard, completely unsure of what she was supposed to say.

Orm could feel it coming—the pressure, the weight of the question, and the expectant silence hanging between her and the senior. In that charged moment, she wasn't ready. She really should have been, especially after weeks spent surviving mind games, public humiliation, and a romance arc that belonged in a K-drama. She'd fought tooth and nail to win Lingling's attention, yet now, with a single question looming, her instincts betrayed her.

For one agonizing second—one second that stretched into an eternity—she hesitated. And in that tiny pause, her mind actually had to think about her answer. That one second was all the time her overactive, panicked brain needed to turn disaster into reality. And before she could stop herself, the words slipped out:

"Yeah, I'm single."

Immediately, Orm knew she'd messed up. Her body locked up as if frozen by a sudden winter chill, her soul nearly abandoning ship. Why did she say that? Why didn't she just say "It's complicated" or "Ask Lingling" or literally anything else? Instead, her panicked brain chose the most technically accurate yet catastrophically damning response possible. And now she was about to pay dearly for it.

The moment those words left her mouth, the senior's eyes lit up like he'd just won the lottery. "Oh, that's great! I was actually wondering if—" he began, excitement bubbling in his tone. But in that instant, Orm's entire system shut down. The air around her felt suffocating, and she could already sense the storm of consequences brewing. Her body screamed at her to run, while her mind spiraled faster than a runaway rollercoaster. She needed to get out of there—immediately.

And then—before she could even blink—someone overheard.

Unfortunately for Orm, she wasn't fast enough. Of course, someone always overheard. And just like that, the whispers began. In no time, the campus was aflame with gossip:

"Did you hear? Orm said she's single."

"Wait, what? But what about Lingling? I thought they were a thing!"

"Did we just get played? Orm rejected Lingling?"

"I can't believe it—she was chasing Lingling for weeks!"

"This is better than any drama I've ever seen!"

By lunchtime, Orm's name was trending like a scandalous hashtag on social media. Even her former admirers—those who had reluctantly backed off when Lingling entered the picture—now looked at her with renewed hope, as if her "single" status was a signal that she was suddenly back on the market. The energy shifted palpably; people were glancing at her as though she had become an unexpected prize.

Orm wanted to scream. She wanted to reverse time, vanish into thin air, do anything but face this public meltdown. And worst of all, she had no idea what Lingling had heard.

And then, as if fate wasn't already having a field day, one random student dropped the dreaded word in casual conversation: "Maybe they're in a situationship."

That single comment ignited a new campus debate, a wildfire of theories that spread faster than any rumor before:

"Oh, that makes sense!"

"They act like they're together, but they're not really dating?"

"So, Orm technically isn't lying, but also, she kinda is?"

"Is this a 'we're exclusive but we don't talk about it' kind of situation?"

"Is Lingling just toying with her?"

"Or is Orm playing mind games?"

"This is worse than any breakup drama!"

"I love it. I need more!"

Orm, now completely spiraling, turned to Becky and May, her best friends, who were glued to their phones as though watching a live-streamed trial.

Becky sighed dramatically, "Ohhh, babe, you're done."

May shook her head, "You had ONE job."

Panicking, Orm pleaded, "Fix it. FIX IT!"

Becky smirked, "Nope. This is your mess. We're just here for the entertainment."

May added with a hint of reproach, "This is the natural consequence of your actions."

Orm was on the verge of collapse.

Meanwhile, across campus, Lingling was in class, completely unreadable. The surrounding whispers drifted to her like background noise:

"Did you hear? Orm said she's single."

"After everything? Are you serious?"

"Poor Lingling."

"Wait, does Lingling even like her?"

"Yeah, but that could mean anything..."

Lingling calmly flipped open her notebook, her face the picture of neutrality, yet inside she was far from pleased. In that moment, she knew Orm had made a monumental mistake—a big mistake that needed to be rectified. And if there was one thing Lingling excelled at, it was arguing her case. Her fingers drummed lightly on her desk as her mind began to plan the counterattack: a full-on legal rebuttal, a cross-examination that would leave no doubt.

Orm had thought that saying "technically single" would slide by unnoticed. She was terribly wrong.