Chapter 6 - The Realization

The grand auditorium of the university still pulsed with energy long after the debate had ended. Moments ago, the audience had exploded into applause, and now the air was filled with lingering cheers and animated chatter. It was clear—Orm and Lingling had emerged victorious.

Clusters of students and professors milled about, some analyzing the arguments, others reliving their favorite moments. At the center of it all stood the two winners: Orm, basking in the attention with effortless charm, and Lingling, who maintained a quiet, composed dignity despite the accolades.

Orm, ever the showstopper, reveled in the spotlight. Compliments flowed as effortlessly as her dazzling smiles: "That was incredible, Orm!" "You shut down that final argument perfectly!" "Your confidence is unreal." She soaked it all in, fueled by the rush of triumph and the thrill of being noticed. Yet, even as she savored the moment, her eyes kept drifting to Lingling.

Just a few feet away, Lingling stood with her customary calm, nodding politely at a professor's praise. Unlike Orm, she didn't bask in the accolades; instead, she simply exuded a quiet assurance, as if victory were just another routine achievement. But even in her serene manner, there was a spark—a subtle satisfaction in her gaze that spoke of unspoken confidence.

Orm's heart skipped a beat. Damn, she's so cool, she thought. She hadn't realized she'd been staring until her friends, Becky and May, nudged her into awareness.

"Oh my god," whispered Becky, elbowing Orm. "That was actually insane."

May's eyes sparkled with amusement. "We knew you two would dominate, but that moment when you exchanged that look mid-debate? It was like watching a power couple in action."

"Terrifyingly hot, you mean," Orm repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Becky grinned. "Exactly. That synergy? Unforgettable."

May sighed dramatically. "It was like enemies-to-lovers slow burn, right there."

Orm sputtered, "Excuse me?!" But before she could muster a retort, her gaze drifted back to Lingling.

Lingling was deep in conversation with a professor, her posture relaxed and her expression serene. There was something magnetic about the way she carried herself—unflappable and self-assured. Then, as if catching Orm's lingering look, Lingling's dark eyes met hers for a brief, charged moment. She didn't smile or nod; she simply observed, as if silently challenging Orm to understand without words.

Orm's stomach tightened. For years, she had thrived on adoration and attention. People fawned over her, flirted with her, and admired her confidence. But Lingling was different. She didn't react to Orm's provocations—she simply was, unyielding and enigmatic. And that, Orm realized with a jolt of both irritation and admiration, was what made her utterly irresistible.

Lost in her thoughts, Orm was snapped back to reality by May's voice. "Orm, you've been staring at Lingling for a while now."

Orm tried to protest, "No, I haven't—"

"Uh-huh," Becky teased, her voice dripping with amusement. "We all know you do."

Before Orm could offer an explanation, both friends exchanged a knowing glance and then burst out in unison, "Oh my god, you have a crush on her!"

For a moment, Orm was speechless, her mind betraying her usual quick wit. "What? No. I don't," she stammered.

May leaned in conspiratorially. "You totally do."

Orm insisted, "I really, really don't."

"Then why are you still watching her?" Becky pressed.

In a flash, Orm jerked her head away as if scorched by the accusation. "I wasn't—" she protested, but before she could continue, a calm, steady voice interjected.

"...With who?"

Lingling had approached, having overheard the tail end of the conversation. Orm froze mid-sip of her drink, and the sudden tension was palpable. Lingling's tone was neither accusatory nor amused—it was simply matter-of-fact, leaving everyone, especially Orm, momentarily stunned.

From the outside, Lingling's presence was as unassuming as ever. Just moments earlier, she had excused herself for some fresh air, and now she stood there with an expression of mild curiosity as she repeated, "...With who?" The way Orm's face drained of color, the suppressed laughter of Becky and May, and the thick, charged silence told Lingling all she needed to know: Orm was flustered, and that was undeniably intriguing.

Later, as the celebration wound down and the campus settled into the cool, post-rain hush of the evening, Orm spotted Lingling in the law faculty's courtyard. There she was, alone at a small outdoor table, immersed in a book, her long dark hair casually cascading over her shoulder. So peaceful, so effortlessly elegant in her solitude—it made Orm hesitate, feeling almost guilty for disturbing that calm.

Clutching the compact black umbrella that had become a symbol of their interaction—one she had been determined to return—Orm took a deep breath and approached Lingling. Despite its simplicity, the umbrella now carried an unexpected weight, a silent message that Orm wasn't quite ready to decode.

"Orm," Lingling said without looking up, flipping a page as if to mark her attention. There was no question in her tone, just an acknowledgement that Orm was present.

Orm smirked, sliding into the chair opposite her. "I didn't need you to look up to know it was me. I'm flattered."

Finally meeting Lingling's steady, unreadable gaze, Orm continued, "I'm here on official business." She gestured toward the umbrella.

Lingling glanced at it, her expression remaining as neutral as ever. "You didn't have to return it."

"Actually, I did. It's yours," Orm replied, holding it out.

Lingling lightly grazed the handle, then, almost impulsively, pushed it back toward Orm. "Keep it. You might need it again."

Orm blinked in confusion. Had Lingling just suggested that there was more to this encounter than practicality? Orm searched Lingling's face for a clue—a hint, a smirk, anything—but Lingling simply turned another page, unruffled.

For once, Orm found herself at a loss for words. The umbrella, once a mundane object, now pulsed with meaning—Lingling's quiet invitation for more, for future interactions. The gesture unsettled and excited her in equal measure.

Reluctantly, Orm sighed and picked up the umbrella again. Lingling, returning to her book, remained impassive. Yet inside, Orm's thoughts churned with questions and possibilities. Did Lingling truly mean what she said? Was this just another one of her cool, detached moves—or was it something more?

The next morning, the campus was returning to its routine. Students hurried about, coffee in hand, while Orm wrestled with the lingering memory of that umbrella moment. At the campus café, Becky and May cornered her.

"Explain now, Orm," Becky demanded, eyes wide.

Orm took a long gulp of her iced latte, her mind replaying Lingling's words: "Keep it. You might need it again." The simplicity of the statement now seemed loaded with implication.

"Oh my god," May whispered. "She gave you an umbrella with meaning."

Orm slammed her hand on the table. "Stop making this a thing!"

Becky, theatrically, added, "You like her!"

Orm's protest was cut short by the realization that denial only made things more obvious. As the teasing continued, Lingling unexpectedly walked into the café, casually heading to the counter. Time seemed to slow as Orm watched her, every detail—from the way Lingling tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear to her calm, composed gaze—intensely magnified.

In that moment, the realization struck Orm with startling clarity. Lingling wasn't just attractive; she was devastating. And as Orm felt her heart tighten in a way she'd never experienced before, it became undeniable: she was in love with her.