THE SPACE BETWEEN US

Chapter 1

The first time Sirilak "Lingling" Kwong met Kornnaphat "Orm" Sethratanapong, rain was crashing violently against the glass walls of the company lobby.

Bangkok was drowning that afternoon.

Employees rushed past the entrance with dripping umbrellas and coffee cups clutched tightly in their hands while thunder rolled somewhere above the city skyline. The entire lobby smelled faintly of rainwater, expensive perfume, and freshly polished marble.

Lingling stood near the reception desk clutching her portfolio a little too tightly against her chest.

Fresh graduate.

Twenty-two.

Terrified.

She had spent the entire train ride rehearsing possible interview questions in her head, pretending her stomach wasn’t twisting itself into knots. This was one of the most prestigious architectural and engineering firms in Thailand—a company people dreamed of entering.

And she was convinced she wouldn’t make it.

Then she saw her.

A girl standing near the entrance, struggling aggressively with a black umbrella that refused to close.

Lingling remembered every detail even years later.

The irritated little crease between Orm’s brows.

The way she bit the inside of her cheek while fighting the stubborn lock.

The soft curses she muttered under her breath.

The way strands of damp hair framed her face after getting caught in the rain.

And somehow—

even frustrated, even annoyed, even visibly losing a battle against an umbrella—

Orm still looked impossibly beautiful.

Lingling stared longer than she should have.

The umbrella snapped open again.

Orm groaned quietly. “Seriously?”

Lingling laughed before she could stop herself.

Orm looked over immediately.

For one suspended second, the entire noisy lobby faded into the background.

“Need help?” Lingling asked softly.

Orm blinked at her.

Then laughed.

Not a polite laugh.

A real one.

Warm.

Bright.

Dangerous.

“Please,” Orm sighed dramatically, holding the umbrella toward her. “I’m about two seconds away from declaring war against this thing.”

Lingling took the umbrella from her carefully, fingers brushing for the briefest moment.

And somehow—

that tiny touch stayed with her longer than it should have.

She fixed the lock easily.

Orm stared at her with exaggerated amazement. “You just saved my life.”

“It’s an umbrella.”

“It was winning.”

Lingling laughed again.

Orm smiled at her like they had known each other longer than thirty seconds.

“Interview too?” Orm asked, motioning toward Lingling’s folder.

Lingling nodded. “Engineering division.”

Orm’s eyes widened. “Architecture.”

Then she grinned.

“Guess we’re suffering together.”

And just like that, Lingling’s life divided itself quietly into two parts:

before Orm,

and after Orm.

—

Three years later, the entire office still talked about them.

Mostly because nobody had ever seen two people work together the way Lingling and Orm did.

They moved like second nature.

Like instinct.

Like gravity itself kept pulling them toward each other.

Every morning, they arrived together carrying rolled blueprints, laptops, coffee cups, and exhaustion written across their faces after another sleepless night fixing project revisions.

Every lunch break, they sat together.

Every client presentation, they stood side by side.

Every overtime night, they were always the last two people left on their floor.

Somewhere along the way, the office stopped seeing them as separate people.

They became LingOrm.

A unit.

A package deal.

“The married couple is here!”

“Finally! Our favorite partners!”

“Just date already!”

The teasing echoed through the office almost daily the moment they stepped out of the elevator together.

Orm would always laugh first.

Bright.

Carefree.

Unaware.

“You guys are crazy,” she’d say while dropping folders onto her desk.

“Our friendship is too precious to ruin.”

Then everyone would groan dramatically while Lingling forced herself to smile along with them.

Because Orm never noticed the way Lingling always looked at her a second too long.

Never noticed how Lingling memorized every little thing about her without trying.

The way Orm preferred iced coffee even when it rained.

The way she tapped her pen against the table while thinking.

The way she unconsciously leaned closer whenever she got excited explaining designs.

The way she always stole food from Lingling’s plate despite ordering her own.

And worst of all—

the way Orm trusted her completely.

Some nights, after overtime, they would sit alone inside the office pantry while Bangkok glittered outside the windows beneath them.

Orm would rest her head on Lingling’s shoulder without hesitation while complaining about deadlines.

And Lingling would stay perfectly still.

Too afraid to breathe.

Because for Orm, it was natural.

Easy.

Safe.

But for Lingling—

it was everything.

Sometimes their coworkers joked so much that even clients noticed.

One afternoon during a project meeting, an older investor laughed while watching them argue over a building layout.

“You two have been married long?”

Orm nearly choked on her coffee.

Lingling looked down immediately to hide the way her heart reacted before she could stop it.

“We’re just friends,” Orm answered quickly, laughing again.

Just friends.

Two harmless words.

Yet somehow they always left bruises Lingling could never explain.

Still—

she stayed.

Because being close to Orm was better than losing her entirely.

So Lingling settled for this.

For late-night drives home together.

For coffee runs.

For shared headphones during overtime.

For soft sleepy conversations at 2 AM while revising blueprints.

For pretending her heart didn’t ache whenever Orm talked about future relationships someday.

Lingling loved Orm so quietly it almost destroyed her.

And Orm never knew.

Because Lingling never wanted friendship.

She wanted the lingering touches.

The almost-confessions.

The mornings together.

The coming home together.

The life everyone else already joked they had.

She wanted every version of forever that involved Orm.

But some loves were never meant to be spoken out loud.

So Lingling simply smiled beside her every day—

and loved her silently anyway.

—

Another year passed.

And somewhere along the way, things started changing quietly.

Not suddenly.

Not dramatically.

Just little things.

Small moments that slowly became habits neither of them noticed forming.

It started with late-night calls that somehow stretched until three in the morning even though they would see each other again in a few hours at work.

At first, they blamed deadlines.

Then stress.

Then boredom.

Eventually, they stopped pretending there needed to be a reason at all.

Sometimes they talked about projects.

Sometimes about childhood memories.

Sometimes about absolutely nothing.

Yet neither of them ever wanted to hang up first.

“You sleep first,” Orm whispered one night while laying on her bed, phone pressed against her ear.

“You sleep first,” Lingling answered softly from the other side.

Orm laughed sleepily.

“You have work tomorrow.”

“So do you.”

Silence followed.

Comfortable silence.

The kind that only existed between two people who had already become part of each other’s everyday life.

Lingling could hear the faint sound of Orm moving beneath her blankets.

Could picture her perfectly without even looking.

Messy hair.

Sleepy eyes.

One hand hugging a pillow while talking.

And somehow—

that image alone was enough to make Lingling smile into the darkness of her room.

—

Then Lingling started picking Orm up every morning.

At first, it was only because Orm’s car was in maintenance.

Then because traffic was “less stressful” together.

Then eventually because Lingling simply showed up outside Orm’s condominium every morning without asking anymore.

And Orm always came down smiling.

Always carrying coffee for Lingling.

Always opening the passenger seat door like she belonged there.

One morning, Orm climbed into the car holding a paper bag and a small container.

“I made breakfast,” she announced proudly.

Lingling glanced at her while driving.

“You woke up early just for that?”

Orm shrugged casually.

“You skip meals too often.”

Twenty minutes later, they were parked outside the company building while Lingling tried reviewing presentation notes from her tablet.

“Open your mouth,” Orm suddenly said.

Lingling obeyed immediately without even looking up.

Orm fed her a spoonful of fried rice before smiling in satisfaction.

“Good.”

Lingling chewed quietly.

Then opened her mouth again.

Orm burst into laughter.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Junji, who happened to walk past the parking area that morning carrying iced coffee and documents, nearly stopped walking entirely after seeing the scene inside the car.

Lingling sitting obediently while Orm fed her breakfast.

Orm fixing the collar of Lingling’s coat afterward.

Their faces far too close for comfort.

Junji stared for a full five seconds.

Then looked away dramatically.

“This is getting ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath before continuing toward the building.

Inside the car, Orm only laughed softly.

“You work too hard,” she scolded while straightening Lingling’s tie carefully. “You forget to eat.”

Lingling looked at her for a second too long.

Orm smelled like vanilla.

Like shampoo.

Like mornings that didn’t feel exhausting anymore.

Like home.

And for one dangerous moment—

Lingling thought:

I could live like this forever.

—

The lines between friendship and something else became blurrier after that.

Holding hands became natural.

At some point, neither of them could even remember who initiated it first.

Orm would simply reach for Lingling instinctively while crossing streets.

Lingling would intertwine their fingers naturally during crowded events.

No hesitation.

No awkwardness.

As though their hands had already memorized each other.

Forehead kisses became casual too.

Small.

Gentle.

Lingling did it whenever Orm got stressed after difficult meetings.

Orm did it whenever Lingling looked too tired to function.

Nobody questioned it anymore.

Not even their friends.

Because somehow—

those small acts already belonged to them.

Orm liked leaning against Lingling after long meetings while complaining about clients.

Lingling liked carrying Orm’s bags even when Orm insisted she could do it herself.

“You don’t have to carry everything for me,” Orm complained one afternoon while walking beside her.

Lingling adjusted the bags on her shoulder effortlessly.

“I know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

Lingling looked at her calmly.

“Because I want to.”

And Orm—

Orm became quiet after that.

Quiet in the way she always did whenever Lingling said things too sincerely.

—

Weekend sleepovers slowly turned into spontaneous beach trips.

Beach trips turned into hiking dates disguised as “stress relief.”

They started collecting photographs together.

Sunsets.

Coffee shops.

Candids.

Blurry stolen pictures neither of them deleted.

One rainy weekend, they ended up trapped inside a tiny beach café after getting caught in a storm.

Orm sat beside the window wrapped in Lingling’s jacket while watching the rain pour outside.

“We should stay here forever,” she joked lazily.

Lingling looked at her over her coffee cup.

“We probably could.”

Orm laughed softly.

But for some reason—

Lingling’s answer stayed in her mind the entire night.

—

Even gym sessions became something dangerously domestic.

“You’re cheating,” Orm accused breathlessly one evening while trying to keep up during their workout.

Lingling smirked while handing her a water bottle.

“You’re just weak.”

Orm narrowed her eyes.

“Says the engineer with zero architectural skills.”

“And yet you still need me.”

Orm rolled her eyes dramatically.

But she smiled afterward.

Always smiled afterward.

Lingling noticed that too.

She noticed everything about Orm.

The way Orm unconsciously searched for her first in crowded rooms.

The way she complained less whenever Lingling was around.

The way she rested easier beside her.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because Lingling was starting to memorize a future she wasn’t even sure belonged to her.

—

One Friday night, Lingling met Junji and Fluke for dinner after work.

The restaurant was loud.

Warm lights.

People talking everywhere.

Yet somehow the conversation still ended up revolving around Orm within ten minutes.

Again.

“You’re insane,” Fluke said immediately after hearing another story about Orm feeding Lingling breakfast inside the car.

Junji pointed her chopsticks dramatically.

“You’re basically dating already without the label.”

Lingling laughed quietly while pouring herself water.

“She’s worth it.”

“That’s not the problem,” Junji groaned. “The problem is you’re acting like a married couple without clarifying anything.”

Fluke nodded aggressively.

“You carry her bags. She cooks for you. You spend weekends together. You literally sleep at each other’s places.”

Lingling smiled faintly into her glass.

“And?”

“And?” Junji repeated in disbelief. “What if she suddenly falls in love with someone else?”

The smile on Lingling’s face faltered for the first time that night.

Just slightly.

Barely noticeable.

But enough.

Because that—

that was the terrifying part.

Orm was affectionate by nature.

Warm.

Sweet.

Easy to love.

The kind of person who made people feel special without even trying.

And Lingling never truly knew if the softness Orm gave her was different from the softness she gave everyone else.

Maybe Orm held hands naturally.

Maybe Orm gave forehead kisses casually.

Maybe Orm looked at everyone gently.

Maybe Lingling had simply mistaken comfort for something deeper.

And God—

that thought terrified her more than anything.

Still—

Lingling smiled again.

Small.

Certain.

Like someone willingly walking toward danger anyway.

“I know the risk,” she admitted quietly.

Fluke sighed heavily while leaning back against his chair.

“And you’re still doing this to yourself?”

Lingling didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she looked down at her phone resting beside her plate.

At the unread message from Orm.

Did you eat already? Come over tomorrow. I found a beach place you’ll love :(

The tiny sad face at the end made Lingling laugh under her breath instantly.

Her chest softened so easily it almost felt pathetic.

Then she looked back at her friends.

And despite everything—

despite the uncertainty,

despite the fear,

despite not knowing whether Orm’s heart would ever truly belong to her—

Lingling still smiled.

Soft.

Hopeless.

Completely gone.

“I’m risking it all for Orm.”