Chapitre 9: You Remember

The morning light crept in softly, spilling through the curtains and casting a golden hue over the room. The air was still, wrapped in the warmth of early morning, a kind of peace that felt almost sacred.

Orm stirred first.

She blinked against the sunlight, her body sluggish with sleep. A familiar scent enveloped her—clean shampoo, soft traces of perfume, and the unmistakable warmth of her.

Ling.

Orm's breath caught in her throat as reality settled in.

They had fallen asleep together.

No distance between them, no uncertainty. Just Ling, curled up against her, one arm draped loosely over her waist, their legs tangled like it was second nature. Like it had always been this way.

Orm barely dared to breathe.

Her heart pounded, her mind racing to catch up. Had it really happened? Did Ling...?

She shifted slightly, just enough to test something.

"Ling," she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Ling groaned softly, pressing her face into Orm's shoulder. "Mmm."

Orm bit back a grin. "What's my favorite comfort food?"

Ling sighed, still drowsy. "Khao man gai. But you always say the place near your condo is better than the one near mine, even though they taste exactly the same."

Orm's eyes widened. That was true.

She wasn't done.

"What did I tell you after we filmed the last scene of Only You?"

Ling stirred slightly but didn't pull away. "That you didn't want it to be over... that you wished we had more time."

Orm felt her chest tighten. It was real.

She really had Ling back. Not just physically—but completely.

The realization made something inside Orm tremble, like she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Ling blinked, finally cracking her eyes open to see Orm staring at her like she was some kind of miracle.

"What?" Ling mumbled, her voice still soft with sleep.

Orm swallowed, pushing herself up on one elbow. "You really remember everything."

Ling shifted slightly, gazing up at her. There was something hesitant in her expression, something raw. "I didn't know I had them all back at first. I thought they were just... flashes. Pieces."

Orm stayed silent, waiting.

Ling let out a breath, dropping her gaze briefly before meeting Orm's eyes again. "But when I was talking to Niran last night... I said something. And I realized—I remembered more than I thought."

Orm frowned slightly. "What triggered it?"

Ling exhaled slowly.

"The fear of losing you."

Orm stilled.

Ling licked her lips, her fingers tightening against the fabric of Orm's shirt as if holding onto something solid. "When I was piecing everything together, I kept thinking about you. About how much I was afraid. And then it just... hit me." She swallowed, her voice almost fragile now. "I remembered all of it, Orm. I remembered us."

Orm didn't realize she was holding her breath until it escaped her all at once.

She lifted a hand, brushing her fingers along Ling's cheek, searching for something in her expression—something she had been aching to see again.

She found it. That quiet certainty. That fire. The knowing.

Orm let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

Ling smirked, sleep still clinging to the edges of her face. "I know but you love me."

Orm leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead, letting it linger just a little longer than necessary. "I really do and I missed you."

Ling's hand found Orm's wrist, holding her there. "I'll never leave you again baby."

Orm closed her eyes for a second, just breathing Ling in.

Then, finally, she whispered, "You better not."

And for the first time in weeks, she wasn't afraid of waking up to find everything gone.

Because this was real. And she was never letting go.

______________________________________________________________________

The scent of coffee filled the air, warm and rich, blending with the soft clatter of dishes as Ling moved around the kitchen. Orm sat at the dining table, still trying to process everything.

Orm had spent so long fearing this moment, thinking that if Ling ever did remember, she might regret it. That she might pull away, realizing she had been safer without Orm in her life.

But instead, Ling was making breakfast. Like nothing had changed.

"You're staring."

Orm blinked. Ling had turned, a knowing smirk on her lips, holding a plate of eggs and toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

"I'm not," Orm mumbled, glancing away as Ling set the food down in front of her.

Ling let out a small chuckle and slid into the seat across from her. "You are."

Orm scoffed, but there was no heat behind it. "Maybe I'm just surprised. Didn't think you could cook."

Ling raised a brow. "Excuse me? Who do you think cooked for Niran when our parents weren't home?"

Orm picked up her fork, pretending to inspect the food. "I dunno, Niran seems more like the 'instant ramen for dinner' type."

Ling rolled her eyes. "He is, but someone had to keep him alive."

Orm grinned, but before she could retort, a loud bang echoed from the front door.

Then—

"I'm home, lovebirds!"

Orm choked on her coffee. Ling groaned.

Niran stepped into the apartment with the confidence of someone who owned the place. He tossed his jacket onto the couch, stretching lazily before walking toward the kitchen.

"Oh wow," he said, stopping in the doorway. His eyes flicked between the two of them, taking in Orm's slightly disheveled appearance and Ling's loose-fitting t-shirt—Orm's t-shirt. His grin widened. Dangerously.

"Well, well, well," Niran mused, crossing his arms. "I was gone for one night, and you two—"

"Shut up." Ling threw a piece of toast at him.

Niran dodged it with ease, still smirking. "You're wearing her shirt," he pointed out, nodding toward Orm. "Orm looks like she hasn't recovered from whatever just happened, and this whole apartment feels different." He wiggled his eyebrows. "So, should I say congratulations?"

Orm groaned. "Niran, please, for once in your life, stop talking."

Ling sighed dramatically. "You see what I have to deal with?"

Niran ignored them both and pulled up a chair. "So," he started, grabbing a piece of toast off Ling's plate, "did you finally confess, Ormie?"

Orm nearly dropped her fork.

Ling raised an eyebrow, leaning back against her chair. "How do you know she confessed?"

Niran gave her a look. "Please. Orm's been in love with you since before she even knew it herself. She's been acting like a lovesick fool for years."

Orm groaned louder. "I regret telling you anything."

Ling just smirked, amused at Orm's misery.

Niran, however, wasn't done. "So, if she confessed, what about you, sis? You remember everything now, right?" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "What's your big realization?"

Ling's smirk faltered slightly. She looked at Orm—really looked at her.

And then, quietly, honestly, she said:

"I love her."

Orm froze.

Niran whistled low, shaking his head. "Damn. That was kinda beautiful. My sis is in love"

Ling rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Orm, meanwhile, was still trying to breathe.

Niran smirked, pushing back his chair. "Well, I'd love to stay and witness more of your awkward, repressed romance, but I have somewhere to be."

Ling looked so relieved. "Thank God."

Orm, still recovering from what Ling had just said, barely registered when Niran grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Before leaving, though, he turned back, smirking. "By the way, if you guys did do something, just make sure the neighbors don't hear next time."

"NIRAN, GET OUT!"

His laughter echoed down the hallway as the door closed behind him.

Ling slumped in her chair, groaning. "Why did I let him live?"

Orm, still stunned, finally turned to her.

"Ling," she said, voice quieter.

Ling glanced up.

"You said you love me."

Ling held her gaze, unflinching. Sure. Certain.

"I did."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Say it again."

Ling grinned, leaning in slightly. "Make me."

Orm smirked. "Gladly."

And with that, she kissed her, they both smile in their kiss before Ling takes a step back, circling her arms around Orm's waist.

"I'm in love with you Miss Kornnaphat" whispers Ling before lening back into the kiss while Orm kisses her back with all the love she feels for Ling.

______________________________________________________________________

Thanom Ratchada sat in the dimly lit office of his private estate, fingers drumming rhythmically against the armrest of his chair. A glass of expensive whiskey sat untouched on the desk beside him, its amber liquid catching the faint glow of his computer screen.

His eyes were fixed on the monitor, a live feed streaming from an anonymous account. A blurred security camera still, zoomed into a building entrance. Ling Kwong's apartment complex.

She was still alive.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening against the leather of his chair. He had been patient. Too patient. And patience had given her time.

Time to heal.

Time to get comfortable again.

Time to fall right back into Orm's arms.

Thanom gritted his teeth at the thought.

How had Ling managed to survive that crash? How had she managed to slither her way back into Orm's life again?

He had done everything right. Every step, every move, every carefully orchestrated detail. The accident should have been the end. It was supposed to be clean. An unfortunate event, tragic but explainable. The final stroke in erasing her.

And yet, here she was. Still breathing. Still standing in Orm's light.

His jaw clenched as he flicked through the latest images his men had gathered. Photos of Ling leaving her apartment with Niran. Photos of Orm arriving at her doorstep late last night. Photos of them together.

He didn't need to see inside to know what was happening.

Orm never learned. She kept choosing her.

Thanom's fingers twitched over his keyboard, pulling up a folder marked Phase Two.

This week. That's when it would happen.

He had been playing with the idea, contemplating different methods. He had let the accident be a message, a warning. But he realized now that warnings were wasted on people like Ling. She didn't know when to quit. She didn't fear him.

And that?

That was unacceptable.

His men were already positioned. Watching. Waiting. They just needed the go-ahead but it was more difficult now.

Thanom leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he scrolled through more images. The more he looked at Ling, the more he despised her. The way she stood so boldly, so carelessly in Orm's life, as if she had a right to be there.

Orm belonged to him. She just didn't know it yet.

But she would. Because by the end of this week, Lingling Kwong would be gone.

For good. And Orm would finally be his.

_____________________________________________________

Orm sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers playing with Ling's wrist absentmindedly, her mind torn between staying and leaving. The sun had fully risen now, casting a warm glow through the windows, making the morning feel deceptively peaceful.

She didn't want to go.

Not when Ling had just come back to her. Not when everything finally felt right again.

Ling sighed, sensing the hesitation radiating from her. "Orm..."

Orm's grip on her hand tightened slightly. "I don't want to leave you alone."

Ling squeezed back, tilting her head slightly. "I won't be alone. Niran should be back any minute."

Orm wasn't convinced.

"You say that, but he's not here right now." She shot Ling a pointed look. "What if someone attacks you? What if something happens while I'm gone?"

Ling smiled at that, amused. "Then I'll fight my way out of it. You do remember I have six-pack abs, right?"

Orm groaned. "Ling—"

"I'm serious," Ling cut in, her voice softer now, reassuring. "Orm, I'm safe here. There's security downstairs, and I won't be stepping out until I have to leave for Channel 3." She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Orm's ear. "You have a meeting, baby. A big one. You can't just cancel because of me."

Orm frowned, her free hand pressing against her forehead. "But I can cancel. It's just a meeting about the new movie, it's nothing compared to—"

"Orm," Ling interrupted, firm this time. "Your movie is coming out in a week. Your career is important. You've worked so hard for this moment, don't let me—" She hesitated, then corrected herself. "Don't let what's happening take that from you."

Orm exhaled, eyes flickering with frustration. "Ling—"

"No," Ling said again, a little more forcefully. "I need you to go. Because if you don't, I'll feel like I'm taking something from you. And I never want to be the reason you hold yourself back."

Orm stared at her, jaw clenched, conflicted.

Ling's voice softened. "We'll see each other at Channel 3 later. I'll be in a public place, surrounded by cameras and people. I'll be fine."

Orm's heart twisted. She wanted to believe that. She needed to believe that.

But something inside her was unsettled. Still, Ling was right. She couldn't let this situation take over her life—not when she had fought so hard to get here. Not when she had finally landed a major film.

Not when Ling was finally looking at her like this. With all the love Orm had spent years hoping for.

She let out a long breath, tilting her head down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Ling's wrist before reluctantly standing up. "Alright."

Ling smiled triumphantly. "Thank you."

Orm narrowed her eyes. "I hate that you're always right."

Ling grinned. "I know. It's my best quality."

Orm rolled her eyes but leaned in, capturing Ling's lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Ling sighed into it, pressing up against her, fingers clutching at Orm's hoodie, unwilling to let go just yet.

When Orm pulled back, her voice was quiet but serious. "If anything happens—anything—call me."

Ling nodded. "I will."

Orm exhaled, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

Ling beamed. "I know."

Orm let out a soft laugh before finally stepping toward the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time. Ling stood in the living room, arms crossed, watching her with an expression so full of love that Orm almost turned back around.

But she didn't. She needed to go.

They would meet later. And everything would be fine.

Or so she hoped.

_______________

Ling was scrolling through her phone absentmindedly, flipping between unread messages and articles she wasn't really absorbing. The apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that should be peaceful—but wasn't.

Something in the back of her mind was unsettled, an unshakable feeling crawling up her spine.

She told herself it was nothing.

That was, until a sudden, frantic knock rattled the door.

Ling shot up from the couch instantly, her pulse spiking.

She wasn't expecting anyone. Orm had already left, and Niran—

Her heart skipped.

She moved quickly but cautiously, pressing an eye against the peephole.

Niran.

But he wasn't standing there casually, waiting to be let in.

He was looking over his shoulder, shifting anxiously on his feet, breathing hard.

Ling didn't hesitate. She unlocked the door and yanked it open. "What the hell—"

Niran pushed his way inside, slamming the door shut behind him with force. He braced his hands against it, chest heaving, sweat slicking his forehead as if he had run the whole way here.

Ling's stomach dropped.

She had never seen him like this before.

"Niran," she started carefully, stepping closer, "what happened?"

He didn't answer right away. His head remained tilted against the door, his hands curled into fists against the wood. His breathing was sharp, ragged.

Ling's pulse pounded.

She grabbed his arm. "Hey—look at me."

Niran finally turned, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and pure, raw fear.

"I was followed," he said, voice tight, like he could barely force the words out.

Ling's breath caught.

For a moment, she didn't move, didn't breathe. She just stared at him, waiting for him to tell her it was a joke, that he was messing with her like he always did—

But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

Ling swallowed hard. "What do you mean you were followed?"

Niran let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking his head as if trying to piece it together himself. "I left my friend's place a while ago, right? Everything seemed fine at first. But then, I noticed this black SUV a few blocks down. Didn't think much of it at first, but—"

He dragged a shaky hand through his hair.

"But then I took a different route. It was still behind me."

Ling felt a cold chill crawl up her spine.

Niran's voice dropped lower. "I cut through two different streets, crossed at weird intersections, even stopped inside a damn store for ten minutes to shake them off." His jaw tightened. "And when I came back out? That same SUV was parked across the street."

Ling clenched her fists. This wasn't a coincidence.

Someone was watching them.

Someone was following them.

Niran took a deep breath, finally looking at Ling properly. "I didn't come straight here. I took a long-ass way around, making sure I lost them. But Ling—" He exhaled sharply. "I think they were waiting for me. They know where we are."

Ling's entire body tensed.

Thanom.

Her nails dug into her palms, her mind racing.

This wasn't random. This wasn't paranoia.

This was deliberate. This was planned.

Niran kept talking, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We need to get the hell out of here."

Ling's heart pounded.

Her first instinct? Call Orm.

But she knew Orm. She knew that if she told her anything right now, she'd drop everything and come rushing back. And she knew that she lied to her by not telling the name of the suspect because she knew she will blame herself.

And she couldn't let that happen.

Not when Orm was already a target.

Ling took a sharp breath, locking eyes with Niran.

"What do we do?"

Niran swallowed. "First, we make sure this place is locked down." His eyes darted toward the windows, checking for anything unusual. "Then, we call the police. They need to know this isn't just about messages anymore."

Ling hesitated. The police already knew about the threats. But this? This was escalating.

Whoever was behind this wasn't just playing games anymore. They were closing in.

Ling nodded, her mind switching into fight mode. No more running. No more waiting.

If Thanom thought she was just going to sit here and let him take everything from her—

He was dead wrong.

But before any of them could ract, a sharp sound outside made Ling's breath catch.

Niran froze, his entire body tensing.

They exchanged a look.

Then—footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Right outside the door.

Ling's heart pounded.

This wasn't paranoia. This was real.

Before she could even whisper a warning—

CRASH!

A deafening sound tore through the apartment. Shards of glass exploded across the floor.

Ling barely had time to react before Niran grabbed her, pulling her down behind the couch as the cold night air rushed into the room.

Her ears rang, her pulse roaring in her head.

Someone had just broken the window. Someone was inside.

For a split second, all Ling could hear was her own breathing—shallow, uneven. Then—

More movement.

A shadow shifting near the broken glass.

Niran gritted his teeth, his arm tightening around Ling as he whispered, "We need to move. Now."

Ling nodded, forcing herself to breathe through the fear clawing up her throat.

They couldn't stay here. They couldn't wait.

Whoever was out there—they weren't just here to scare them anymore.

They were here to hurt them.

Ling barely had time to register what was happening before a shadowed figure stepped through the broken window.

Niran moved first. Instinct kicked in.

He grabbed the nearest thing—a heavy glass vase from the coffee table—and launched it.

It shattered against the intruder's shoulder.

A grunt of pain.

But he didn't stop.

The man, dressed in black, barely staggered before lunging forward.

Fast. Too fast.

Niran barely had time to react before he was tackled into the coffee table.

A sickening crack filled the air as the wood splintered under their weight.

"Niran!" Ling's voice broke with panic as she tried to move toward him—

Another figure moved in the shadows.

Ling's breath hitched.

There were two of them.

She barely had time to react before a rough grip snatched at her wrist.

Her instincts kicked in.

She swung her elbow back—hard.

A satisfying thud as she connected with ribs. The man stumbled, cursing in pain, but Ling didn't stop—

She grabbed a candle holder from the table and threw it full force at his face.

Another sharp impact.

Another curse.

But it wasn't enough.

The first man was already on his feet again, and Niran was still locked in a brutal struggle with the second.

The apartment was a war zone.

Shattered glass. Broken furniture.

Ling's breath was ragged as she took a step back, fists clenched.

But then—

A loud vibration.

Her phone.

Orm was calling. The second of distraction cost her.

A rough hand yanked at her arm. Then hit her in the face.

Ling stumbled, thrown off balance as she crashed against the couch.

Pain shot up her shoulder and on her cheek.

The intruder loomed over her now, panting, bleeding—but still standing.

Ling's vision swam.

And then— Niran roared.

With everything he had left, he grabbed the intruder by the collar and threw him backward.

The man crashed against the TV stand, groaning in pain. But Niran wasn't done.

He grabbed the lamp, swung it like a bat— And slammed it against his head.

A dull thud. The man slumped, finally unmoving.

Ling gasped, trying to push herself up, her vision blurring.

The crash of glass ripped through the apartment like a gunshot.

Ling barely had time to react before another masked figure lunged at Niran.

"Niran—!"

Her brother twisted, trying to block the incoming blow, but the attacker was fast—too fast.

A fist connected with his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs in a harsh wheeze. He barely stumbled back before a second blow landed, this time against his face, sending him crashing into the coffee table with a sickening crack.

Ling's heart slammed against her ribs.

Niran groaned, trying to push himself up—but the attacker was relentless.

A sharp kick to his ribs.

Then another.

And then—

His body stilled.

Ling's blood ran ice-cold.

Her vision tunneled, heart pounding against her skull.

No.

Not Niran.

Not like this. The masked figure turned to her now, stepping forward with deadly intent.

Ling's grip on reality snapped. Without thinking, she moved—pure instinct, pure rage.

The attacker barely had time to react before Ling swung.

Her fist collided with his jaw, sending him staggering back. She didn't stop. She couldn't.

She followed through with a kick to his ribs, her momentum unbreakable. When he tried to regain balance, she caught his wrist, twisting it until she heard a snap.

A strangled gasp tore from the attacker's throat.

Ling didn't care.This wasn't just about her anymore.

They hurt Niran. They wanted to take her away from Orm. They thought she'd be easy prey.

They thought wrong.

Ling shoved the attacker backward, sending him crashing against the wall. The lamp beside them toppled over, casting a jagged flicker of light across his shattered mask.

For the first time, Ling saw his face.

And she froze.

Because she knew him.

He was one of Thanom's men.

He had been there before. At the gala. At events she and Orm had attended. Always lurking. Always watching.

This wasn't just a message. This was an attempted execution.

A warning.

Her breath hitched, a sickening realization curling in her stomach.

Thanom wasn't going to wait anymore. He was going to kill her.

The attacker growled, recovering too fast. He lunged again—but Ling was ready.

She dodged, grabbing the broken lamp beside her.

And with every ounce of anger, terror, and desperation in her body—

She swung. The impact shattered through the room.

The attacker collapsed.

Silence.

Ling staggered back, panting hard. Her whole body shook, her fingers still gripping the broken remains of the lamp.

Then—

A weak groan.

Her breath hitched.

"Niran."

She dropped the lamp and rushed to him.

His face was bloody, bruises already blooming across his skin.

"Niran, hey, hey—wake up."

She shook him lightly, her hands trembling.

He let out a pained breath, barely conscious. "Shit... that guy... hit like a truck."

Relief crashed into her so violently she almost sobbed.

She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, exhaling shakily. "You're an idiot."

Niran let out a weak chuckle, wincing. "Yeah... but I'm your idiot."

Ling swallowed hard, tears burning her eyes. They weren't safe here anymore.

Thanom wasn't just watching. He was coming for her.

And if she didn't end this soon— She was going to lose everything.

__________________________________

Orm's fingers tightened around her phone, her breath uneven.

No answer.

She had called once. Then twice. Then again.

Nothing.

She stared at the screen, waiting, hoping.

Waiting for Ling's name to appear.

Waiting for something, anything.

Mae Koy's voice pulled her back. "Orm?"

Orm barely registered her mother at first. Her entire body was tense.

Something felt wrong.

Ling always answered—even if it was just to say I'm busy or I'll call later.

But now? Nothing.

Orm exhaled sharply, already standing up. She had to go.

"I need to check on Ling," she said, reaching for her bag.

Mae Koy's eyes flickered with concern, but her voice was steady. "Orm, you have a meeting."

"I know." Orm was already stepping away. "But Ling—"

Mae reached out, gently gripping her wrist.

"I know," she repeated, softer this time. "But your meeting is about to start."

Orm clenched her jaw. She knew that. She knew she was supposed to be here, to focus on the discussion about her upcoming movie.

But how the hell was she supposed to focus when Ling wasn't answering her calls?

Mae squeezed her wrist gently. "You can't just leave."

Orm hesitated, torn. The rational part of her brain—the part that Mae had always instilled in her—knew that she had obligations. Knew that walking out now would cause problems.

But the other part—the part of her that belonged entirely to Ling—was screaming at her to run.

Mae saw the conflict in her daughter's eyes.

So she softened her voice, her grip still firm but reassuring.

"I'll call her," Mae said. "While you're in the meeting."

Orm froze. Mae's voice was steady, a silent promise.

"I'll check in," she continued. "If anything is wrong, I'll let you know immediately."

Orm's throat tightened. "But—"

"You trust me, don't you?" Mae pressed.

Of course, she did.

Orm swallowed, her hands clenching into fists before she slowly released the tension.

She didn't want to sit through this meeting. She didn't want to be here.

She wanted to be with Ling. But Mae was right. She couldn't just leave.

She inhaled deeply, trying to push down the rising panic.

"Fine," she murmured. "Call her. And if she doesn't answer—"

"I'll keep trying," Mae assured her. "And if something's wrong, you'll be the first to know."

Orm nodded slowly. Still uneasy. Still restless.

Mae gave her a final squeeze before letting go.

"Now," her mother said, voice firm, "go to your meeting."

Orm forced herself to move. One step at a time. One breath at a time.

But as she sat down in the conference room, her phone on the table, screen facing up, waiting for a call that wouldn't come—

She knew. Deep down, she knew. Something was very, very wrong.

______________________

The apartment was a mess—glass shattered across the floor, furniture overturned, the air still thick with the echoes of the fight.

Ling sat on the floor, her heart pounding, hands shaking, pressing a cloth to the side of Niran's head.

He wasn't fully unconscious anymore, but he was barely holding on—his breaths shallow, his face bruised and bloody. She could feel the warmth of his blood seeping through the cloth.

The sight of him like this—because of her— made something burn deep inside her.

She clenched her jaw, blinking hard against the stinging in her eyes.

Not now. Not yet.

"Stay with me, Niran," she murmured, shifting slightly so his head rested more comfortably against her lap.

He groaned, his fingers twitching slightly.

"Damn," he muttered, his voice weak but laced with dry humor. "I think... I liked it better when I was unconscious."

Ling let out a breath—not quite a laugh, not quite a sob.

"You're an idiot," she whispered, her grip tightening on the cloth.

Niran tried to smirk, but it hurt too much. He winced instead.

"Guess I won't... be getting that pretty-boy role anytime soon," he joked, voice hoarse.

Ling swallowed hard. Her fingers trembled as she brushed his hair back.

The sirens were distant—but getting closer.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered. A promise. A lie.

Because how the hell could she promise that? How could she ever be sure of that again?

This wasn't just some obsessed fan. It wasn't just some random attack. It was a billionaire with power.

This was a message. A warning. And Ling wasn't stupid. She knew exactly who had sent it.

Her stomach twisted as she looked down at Niran—her brother, her protector, the only person who had always been on her side no matter what.

And now, because of her, he was lying here, barely able to breathe.

Her fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt.They had gone after Niran to get to her.

And next time? What will be next? Orm?

She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't let that happen.

Ling turned her head toward the distant sirens, her body still thrumming with adrenaline, her mind sharp and clear despite the chaos.

Her hands might have been shaking. But inside?

Inside, something steadied.

This had to end. But before she could think more the ambulance arrived.

_______________________________________

Mae Koy sat in the lobby, she could feel her nerves growing. The first two calls had gone straight to voicemail.

She tried to tell herself that it wasn't unusual. That Ling could have been in the shower, or maybe her phone was on silent.

But Mae had been around long enough to know when something felt wrong.

And this? This felt wrong.

She tapped her fingers against her leg, her brows furrowing as she stared at the name on her phone screen.

She exhaled sharply, hit redial.

The line rang.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Then—

A click.

A breath.

And—

"...Hello?"

Mae's stomach dropped.

She knew Ling's voice. She knew it well. She had spent years hearing her laugh through interviews, watching her navigate the industry with charm and sharp wit. She had spoken to her dozens of times, had seen her confident, had seen her tired, had even seen her nervous.

But this—this wasn't any of those. Ling's voice was off.

Thin. Unsteady. Like she was trying too hard to sound normal.

Mae's grip on the wheel tightened. "Ling?"

There was silence on the other end, just the faintest shuffle of movement.

"Yeah—yeah, sorry. It's me."

Mae's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

Ling hesitated. "Nothing, I—"

"Don't lie to me."

Another pause. Then—Ling exhaled, a shaky breath, one that made Mae's chest tighten.

"I—I can't talk right now."

Mae's pulse quickened. "Where are you?"

Ling swallowed audibly. "At the hospital."

Mae didn't like the way that sounded. Didn't like it one bit. She felt her heart doing a flip.

There was something in Ling's voice—something she had heard only a few times before.

Fear.Not panic. Not the kind of fear that made you scream or run.

No, this was something deeper. Heavier.

A fear that had settled in the bones, that wasn't leaving anytime soon.

Mae's heart pounded.

"What happened?" she asked, quieter this time.

Ling didn't answer right away.

And that silence was enough to tell Mae everything.

Something had happened. Something bad.

Mae closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to stay calm. She needed to be the steady one here.

"Ling," she said, her voice gentle now. "Do you need me to come to you?"

Ling hesitated. "No Mae," she said, voice still too light, too careful. "Stay with Orm... please."

Mae's blood ran cold.

Stay with Orm please.

She straightened in her seat. "What do you mean stay with Orm? What is happening Ling? Are you hurt? Is Niran with you?"

Ling cursed under her breath, as if realizing she had slipped. "I—I can't talk right now, Mae."

That did it.

Mae never liked pushing Ling, never wanted to overstep—but this was different.

"Listen to me, sweetheart," she said, her voice firm now, the concern bleeding through. "I know you want to handle this on your own. I know you think you have to. But whatever just happened? Whatever has you sounding like this?" She inhaled sharply. "You don't have to go through it alone."

Ling's breathing hitched.

It was barely noticeable—but Mae caught it.

Her fingers clenched the wheel.

And then, finally—

"...I know."

It was so quiet, Mae almost didn't hear it.

But it was there. A crack.

A small, barely-there crack in the walls Ling was trying so hard to hold up.

Mae swallowed down the tightness in her chest, forcing herself to keep her voice even.

"Do you want me to come with Orm after?"

Ling's answer was immediate. "No. She—she has enough on her plate right now. I don't want to worry her more"

Mae frowned but didn't push. Not yet.

She exhaled. "Alright. But promise me something."

Ling didn't answer right away.

"...What?"

Mae softened her voice. "Promise me you won't shut her out when she finds out. Because you know she will because I'm going to tell her the minute she comes out of this meeting room."

Ling let out a quiet, breathy laugh—one that sounded too much like a sob.

"I know. I'll call you later promise"

Mae sighed. "Good. Now go take care of Niran."

"...Okay. Call her honey, not me, I don't want a sulky Orm tonight"

Another small pause. Then—

"Thank you, Mae."

Mae closed her eyes, her heart aching.

"Anytime, sweetheart."

And then the call ended.

Mae sat there for a long moment, the silence pressing in around her.

Something wasn't right. She could feel it. She wanted to ask more, but she needed to stay focused for her daughter. Because she knows that at the very moment she knows Ling is in the hospital, she will run to her and nothing will stop her, not even her.

_______________________

The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the quiet hospital room, a rhythmic reminder that Niran was alive, that he had made it through the fight.

Ling sat in the chair beside his bed, her elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped together as she stared at him. His face was bruised, a nasty cut on his cheekbone, his right arm wrapped in bandages. But he was breathing. He was here.

She should have felt relieved. Instead, all she felt was guilt. Niran had been dragged into this because of her.

Because someone wanted her gone. Because someone wanted Orm.

She exhaled slowly, fingers gripping tighter as she swallowed down the sickening weight in her chest.

Was it a mistake to stay? To fight?

To still be this close to Orm?

Because what if... what if she wasn't the only one in danger anymore?

Ling squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse thrumming in her ears.

Niran had been beaten unconscious. He had almost died trying to protect her.

And Orm—Orm was already being threatened, was already caught in this mess just by loving her.

Loving her.

Her breath hitched, her hands unclasping slightly.

Orm had always loved her. And Ling had spent so long convincing herself that loving Orm back would put her in danger.

That's why she had hesitated back then. That's why she had never confessed. She wasn't going to put Orm in danger.

And yet, here they were. Nothing had changed. Ling was still a target. Nearly died.

Orm was still at risk.

And if Ling stayed—if she let herself hold onto Orm the way she wanted, the way she had longed to for so long—

Would it only make things worse?

Would it get Orm killed?

She let out a slow, shaky breath, staring at the IV line in Niran's hand, at the bruises covering his knuckles.

He had fought for her.

Would Orm end up the same way?

Ling wasn't sure she could survive that.