Chapter 1: Shadows in the Light

The city hummed with life, neon signs flickering against the dark canvas of Bangkok's night sky. Ling adjusted her oversized jacket, pulling it tighter as she stepped out of the studio. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, a sharp contrast to the warm glow of the street lights lining the empty parking lot. Her footsteps echoed softly, blending with the distant sounds of traffic and faint murmurs from late-night vendors packing up their stalls.

She fished her phone out of her bag, her fingers automatically tapping out a message.

Ling: "Wrapped up for the day. Tired but alive. How's your script going? Don't tell me you're still stuck on that scene. :P"

She smiled at her own teasing text, the fatigue in her muscles slightly eased by the thought of Orm's likely dramatic response. Sliding her phone back into her pocket, she continued toward her car, her pace unhurried. But then—

A faint shuffle.

Ling's steps faltered. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze scanning the dimly lit parking lot. Nothing. Just shadows dancing under the flickering lights. She shook her head, mentally scolding herself for being paranoid. It's just exhaustion, she reasoned, quickening her pace slightly.

As she unlocked her car, the faint prickle at the back of her neck persisted—a quiet, unshakable sense of being watched.

Sliding into the driver's seat, she locked the doors immediately, her fingers hovering over her phone. The screen lit up with a reply.

Orm: "Excuse you, Miss Kwong. I'm not stuck. I'm just... creatively contemplating. Also, why do you sound weird? Everything okay?"

Ling stared at the message, her thumb hesitating over the keyboard. She could tell Orm about the odd feeling. But it was probably nothing. No need to worry her over something so trivial.

Ling: "I'm fine. Just tired. Maybe too much caffeine today. :D"

She hit send, forced a chuckle, and started the engine. The familiar roar of the car was oddly comforting. Still, as she drove through the winding streets, her eyes darted to the rearview mirror more than usual, scanning the headlights behind her. Paranoia—or was it intuition? She wasn't sure.

When she finally reached her apartment, relief washed over her. She parked, gathered her things, and hurried inside, her footsteps quick and sharp against the concrete floor of the building's hallway. The door closed behind her with a reassuring click as she locked it, double-checking the deadbolt.

She leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

It's nothing. Just tired.

Her phone buzzed again.

Orm: "Don't drink more coffee tonight. You'll be bouncing off the walls. Sweet dreams, weird girl. Call me if you need anything."

Ling's lips curled into a small, genuine smile. She typed back quickly.

Ling: "Night, Orm. Talk tomorrow."

She set the phone on her nightstand, turned off the lights, and slipped under the covers. But long after the city's sounds faded into the background, Ling's eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the feeling that the shadows outside weren't just shadows.

Orm stared at her phone long after Ling's goodnight message had arrived, her thumb hovering over the screen as if expecting more. But nothing came. Just the simple, cheerful words: "Night, Orm. Talk tomorrow."

She frowned, tossing the phone onto her couch with a sigh. Something felt... off.

Orm wasn't one to overthink—at least, that's what she always claimed. But when it came to Ling, overthinking seemed like second nature. The way Ling had brushed off her concern felt too easy, too smooth, like a rehearsed line meant to deflect. And Orm knew Ling well enough to recognize when she was hiding something.

She ran a hand through her hair, frustration prickling at the edges of her thoughts. Maybe I'm just being dramatic... But the unease wouldn't leave her, sitting heavy in her chest.

Just then, Mae Koy's voice floated in from the kitchen.

"You're still up?" Mae Koy emerged with a glass of water in hand, raising an eyebrow when she saw Orm pacing slightly, her phone face down on the table. "What's with the frown?"

Orm hesitated, then sighed. "It's Ling."

Mae Koy set her glass down, leaning casually against the counter but her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Something happened?"

Orm shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. "Not exactly. She said she's fine, but... I don't know. She sounded weird. You know how she gets all 'I'm fine' even when she's not." She let out a dry chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. "After everything that happened with the stalkers last year, I just—"

Mae Koy's face softened instantly. "You're worried it's happening again."

Orm didn't respond, but the tightness in her jaw spoke for her.

Mae Koy crossed the room, plopping down beside Orm on the couch. She reached out, giving Orm's knee a reassuring squeeze. "Look, I get it. Ling isn't as lucky as you. Your family's right here when you need them. She doesn't have that—especially with her family being away."

Orm swallowed hard, guilt rising like a wave. She'd always known Ling carried her burdens quietly, too proud—or maybe too scared—to lean on anyone.

"I told Ling she can count on me anytime," Mae Koy continued softly. "I meant it. I'm here for both of you. But you know how she is. Private. Stubborn. Doesn't want to 'disturb' anyone."

Orm let out a frustrated sigh, slumping back against the couch. "Yeah. She probably thinks she's protecting us by keeping everything bottled up. But I can feel it, Mae. Something's wrong."

Mae Koy nodded thoughtfully. "So, what are you gonna do?"

Orm grabbed her phone, determination flashing in her eyes as she headed for the door. But before she could even reach for her keys, Mae Koy's firm voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Orm. Don't."

Orm turned sharply, frustration etched into every line of her face. "Mae, I can't just sit here. She's not okay."

Mae Koy stood up, her calm demeanor unshaken, though her eyes held a quiet seriousness. "I know. But barging into her apartment in the middle of the night isn't the answer."

Orm's fingers tightened around her phone. "She's alone."

Mae Koy crossed the room, her hand gently resting on Orm's arm. "And she chose to be. Not because she doesn't need anyone, but because that's how she deals with things. You know Ling—she's private. She doesn't like feeling like a burden."

Orm's jaw clenched. "She's not a burden."

"I know that. You know that. But in her mind, asking for help means admitting she's vulnerable. And that scares her more than anything." Mae Koy's voice softened, her grip steady but warm. "If you show up now, she'll shut down even more."

Orm's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her like air from a punctured balloon. "So what? I just do nothing?"

Mae Koy shook her head. "No. We do something smarter."

She picked up her own phone, scrolling through her contacts with practiced ease. "I'm calling P'Mam."

Orm blinked, momentarily thrown off. "P'Mam?"

Mae Koy nodded, already dialing. "Ling trusts her. She's like a second mother. If something's wrong, Ling won't be able to brush it off with her the way she does with us."

Orm opened her mouth to argue, but the logic was undeniable. She sank back onto the couch, her heart still racing as Mae Koy held the phone to her ear.

After a few rings, a familiar voice answered, slightly groggy but alert. "Mae Koy? Is everything okay?"

Mae Koy didn't waste time. "P'Mam, it's about Ling. She's acting... different. Orm's worried. We think something might be wrong."

There was a pause on the other end, then P'Mam's voice grew sharper, all traces of sleep gone. "Tell me everything."

Orm sat there, her leg bouncing nervously as Mae Koy recounted the details—Ling's strange behavior, the forced cheerfulness in her messages, the unspoken fear Orm had sensed.

When Mae Koy hung up, she turned to Orm, her expression serious but steady. "P'Mam's going to check on her first thing in the morning. She'll handle it."

Orm nodded slowly, though her chest still felt tight. She hated the waiting, the helplessness. But deep down, she knew Mae Koy was right.

For now, all she could do was trust that P'Mam would get through to Ling.

And hope that nothing worse happened before morning.

_____________

The warm water cascaded down Ling's back, steam filling the small bathroom as she leaned her forehead against the cool tile. She'd cranked the temperature up, hoping the heat would wash away the unease that had settled deep in her chest. But it clung stubbornly, woven into the very fabric of her thoughts.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the water drown out the faint noises from outside—the hum of the city, distant car horns, the occasional bark of a stray dog. It's nothing, she told herself again. You're just tired. Overthinking.

But when she finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the air in her apartment felt heavier, denser, like it was pressing in on her. She moved through the space methodically—drying her hair, slipping into an oversized hoodie and shorts, lighting a small candle by the window. Little rituals to trick her mind into feeling safe.

And yet... she couldn't shake it.

That feeling.

Like she was being watched.

She stood by the window, peering out into the street below. The dim glow of streetlights painted long shadows across the pavement. A couple walked by, laughing softly. A motorbike zipped past. Normal. Everything looked normal.

So why did it feel like something wasn't?

Ling stepped back, pulling the curtain closed with a sharp tug. Her heart beat a little faster now, thudding against her ribs. She told herself to sit down, to breathe, to distract herself—maybe call Orm back, hear her voice, laugh about something stupid.

But she didn't.

Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, her phone cradled in her hands like a fragile thing. The screen stayed dark. No new messages.

And then—it rang.

She jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. The name flashing on the screen made her exhale shakily: P'Mam.

Ling answered quickly, her voice softer than usual. "P'Mam?"

"Ling, are you okay?" P'Mam's voice was brisk, but there was warmth underneath—familiar, grounding. The kind of voice that made Ling feel like a kid again, safe and cared for.

Ling hesitated, her throat tightening. She could lie. She almost did. But the words slipped out before she could stop them, fragile and trembling.

"I'm scared."

There was a pause, but not the heavy, uncomfortable kind. Just a beat of silence as P'Mam processed her words.

"I think... I think I was followed tonight," Ling whispered, her fingers gripping the edge of her blanket. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just imagining things, but I—" Her voice broke slightly. "I feel seen. Like someone's watching me, and I don't know why."

P'Mam didn't hesitate. "I'm coming over. Right now."

Ling's eyes burned with unshed tears, the weight of the words—I'm scared—hanging in the air. But hearing P'Mam's steady promise cracked something open inside her, a fragile relief mingled with fear.

"Okay," she whispered.

She hung up, the apartment suddenly too quiet again. Ling stood, her legs unsteady as she checked the locks for the third time that night.

And then she waited—heart pounding, shadows stretching, the fear lurking just beyond the door.

Less than twenty minutes after the call, Ling heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up outside her building. She didn't move at first, frozen in place on the edge of her bed, her hands gripping the blanket tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest, equal parts relief and residual fear swirling inside her.

A soft knock echoed through the apartment.

"Ling, it's me. P'Mam."

Ling shot to her feet, rushing to the door. She peeked through the peephole just to be sure—it was her. The familiar, sharp eyes, the slight frown etched with concern, her phone still in hand as if she'd been texting someone moments before.

Ling unlocked the door with shaky fingers and swung it open.

P'Mam stepped inside without hesitation, pulling Ling into a quick, firm hug. It wasn't her usual style—P'Mam wasn't the overly affectionate type—but tonight, it felt necessary. Ling melted into the embrace for just a second before pulling back, her eyes glossy.

"I'm okay," Ling mumbled automatically, her voice thin.

P'Mam didn't let that slide. "No, you're not."

She closed the door behind them, locking it with a practiced flick of her wrist, her sharp gaze sweeping over the small apartment like she was scanning for threats. Then, without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.

P'Mam: You were right. Something's off. I'm with Ling now.

She hit send—Mae Koy's name lit up at the top of the screen—then tucked the phone into her pocket, turning her full attention back to Ling.

"Tell me everything," P'Mam said, guiding Ling gently to sit on the couch.

Ling did. Her voice trembled at first, recounting the feeling of being followed, the shadowed parking lot, the eerie prickle on the back of her neck. How she'd tried to shake it off, how it only grew stronger when she got home.

"I don't know why I'm so scared," Ling whispered, her hands twisting in her lap. "Nothing even happened. But it feels like—like something's waiting."

P'Mam listened without interrupting, her expression unreadable but her posture alert, like she was ready to jump into action at any moment.

When Ling finished, P'Mam reached over, placing a steady hand on hers. "You're not crazy. And you're not imagining things."

Ling's eyes filled again, the fear she'd been swallowing all night threatening to spill over.

"I'm staying here tonight," P'Mam added firmly, leaving no room for argument. "And tomorrow, we're going to figure this out."

For the first time all evening, Ling felt her breath come a little easier.

Because she wasn't alone anymore.

_______________________

Mae Koy's phone buzzed softly on the coffee table, the screen lighting up in the dim glow of the living room. Orm had been pacing again, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios she couldn't shut off.

Mae Koy grabbed the phone, her heart skipping as she read the message.

P'Mam: You were right. Something's off. I'm with Ling now.

The words hit like a cold splash of water.

Orm saw Mae Koy's face tighten and lunged forward, her anxiety spilling over. "What? What is it?"

Mae Koy handed her the phone silently.

Orm's eyes darted across the screen, her breath catching. Something's off. She read it again, as if the meaning would change, but it didn't. The confirmation of her fears settled heavy in her chest.

"I knew it," she whispered, her voice a mix of anger and worry. "I knew something was wrong."

Mae Koy placed a firm hand on Orm's shoulder, grounding her. "But P'Mam's with her now. Ling's not alone."

Orm sank onto the couch, her hands gripping the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I should've gone."

"No," Mae Koy said gently but firmly, sitting beside her. "If Ling is in danger, you might be too. You showing up would've made things worse baby. And you know how she is—she doesn't like feeling vulnerable in front of people she cares about. At least not yet..."

Orm pressed her lips together, frustration simmering beneath the surface. But she knew Mae Koy was right. Still, the thought of Ling being scared, feeling watched, haunted Orm more than she cared to admit, she wanted to be here for her, more than anything.

"What if—" Orm started, her voice breaking slightly.

Mae Koy squeezed her shoulder. "Don't. Don't spiral."

Orm nodded, swallowing hard. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing even as her body felt drained.

After a moment of silence, Mae Koy added softly, "We'll check in tomorrow. Give P'Mam time to figure out what's going on. Maybe it's nothing.. We both know how much the stalking traumatized her, she might still need time to adjust "

Orm nodded again, but her heart wasn't settled. She wouldn't rest until she saw Ling with her own eyes. She stands, goes to kiss the forehead of her mother.

"I'm going to my room. See you tomorrow Mae, love you"

"Love you too baby. Try to have some rest. We will see her tomorrow, don't worry" answers Mae

Orm just nods before going up the stairs to her room, her mind couldn't stop spiraling, she knew she don't have a minute rest.