Chapter 3
By five in the afternoon, the twenty-third floor of the building slowly began to empty.
One by one, computers powered down into black screens.
The constant ringing of office telephones faded.
Printers stopped humming.
Employees stretched their sore backs after another exhausting day while others hurriedly packed their bags, already excited for dinner plans, traffic rides home, or much-needed sleep.
The once-busy office gradually softened into silence.
And just like every other evening—
Lingling walked toward Orm's department to fetch her.
It had become routine months ago.
Something so normal that nobody questioned it anymore.
At exactly five every afternoon, Lingling would leave her own department, cross two hallways, ignore the executive elevator reserved for senior engineers, and patiently wait for Orm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe to Lingling—
it was.
The moment she entered the floor, several employees immediately noticed her.
“Look who’s here,” someone from accounting whispered dramatically.
“Her wife-fetching schedule is right on time again.”
A few people laughed.
One employee from the pantry leaned against the doorway and teased loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“Going to fetch your wife again, P’Ling?”
Lingling let out a small laugh, adjusting the sleeve of her coat.
“She’ll complain if I leave her behind.”
The answer earned another chorus of teasing.
“Oh wow. Wife behavior.”
“Meanwhile my boyfriend can’t even reply properly.”
“Orm is seriously spoiled.”
Lingling only smiled softly at them before continuing her walk.
Calm.
Relaxed.
Effortlessly charming without even trying.
That was the dangerous thing about Lingling.
Nothing about her felt forced.
Not the kindness.
Not the warmth.
Not the way she always made people feel seen whenever she spoke to them.
Near the elevators, a group of female employees immediately straightened when they saw her approaching.
“P’Ling!”
One of them grinned brightly. “You were amazing during the presentation earlier.”
“The Japanese clients looked so impressed.”
“And your design proposal?” another added. “Honestly, it was insane.”
“You seriously make the rest of us look unemployed.”
Someone else sighed dramatically while placing a hand over her chest.
“And handsome too. God really has favorites.”
The group burst into laughter.
Lingling shook her head, amused.
“You’re all exaggerating.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Very much not.”
One woman stepped forward shyly, holding out a small paper bag with both hands.
“I baked banana muffins this morning,” she explained quickly, almost embarrassed. “I brought extra… so…”
Lingling blinked in surprise before accepting it carefully.
“That’s sweet of you,” she said sincerely. “Thank you.”
The woman nearly melted on the spot.
As Lingling continued deeper into the department, more greetings followed her.
Some complimented her work.
Some asked for help regarding projects.
Some simply wanted a few seconds of conversation with her before going home.
And Lingling responded kindly to every single one.
She remembered names.
Remembered birthdays.
Remembered tiny details people casually mentioned weeks ago.
She listened attentively whenever someone spoke to her, making them feel important even during brief interactions.
That was why people gravitated toward her so easily.
Why the entire company adored her.
Why clients trusted her.
Why strangers softened around her after only minutes.
Lingling Kwong was easy to admire.
Easy to feel safe with.
Easy to love.
Yet the only person she wanted to love her back— didn’t.
When Lingling finally arrived at Orm’s office, she found her standing near the glass window, using the dark reflection of her tablet screen to fix her lipstick.
The late afternoon sunlight poured softly across the room, painting Orm in warm gold.
And God.
She looked beautiful.
Almost painfully beautiful.
Her long hair was neatly curled at the ends, falling perfectly over her shoulders.
Her lips carried a soft glossy tint, subtle but enough to draw attention whenever she spoke.
The familiar floral perfume she always wore lingered gently in the air—the same scent that had unknowingly become one of Lingling’s favorite things in the world.
For a moment, Lingling simply stood by the doorway and watched her quietly.
Watched the woman she loved without permission.
Watched the woman she could never have.
“Ready?” Lingling finally asked with a smile.
Orm immediately turned around.
And the moment she saw Lingling, her entire face lit up.
“Ling!”
That smile.
That smile alone was enough to ruin Lingling completely.
Because no matter how exhausted Orm was, no matter how stressful her day had been, she always smiled like that whenever Lingling appeared.
As if seeing her automatically made everything better.
And for one dangerous second—
Lingling forgot every ache inside her chest.
Forgot every reminder that none of this belonged to her.
“I booked that Italian restaurant you wanted,” Lingling said softly, stepping inside the office. “The one you sent me two nights ago.”
Orm blinked in surprise.
“Oh…”
A smile appeared on her lips.
But it didn’t fully reach her eyes.
Then Lingling saw it.
The hesitation.
The sudden flicker of guilt crossing Orm’s face.
Small.
Quick.
But enough.
And instantly—
Lingling knew.
Before Orm even opened her mouth—
Lingling already knew.
Orm quickly walked toward her and wrapped both arms around Lingling’s waist, hugging her naturally.
Comfortably.
Like she had done a thousand times before.
“Thank you,” Orm whispered sincerely against her shoulder.
Lingling closed her eyes for a brief second before hugging her back automatically.
And this—
this was always the problem.
Orm hugged her like this all the time.
Held her arm while walking.
Leaned against her shoulder during long drives.
Fed her food absentmindedly whenever they ate together.
Called her late at night just because she couldn’t sleep.
Kissed her forehead jokingly.
Stayed close.
Always close.
Orm loved her in every way—
except the way Lingling needed.
“I’m sorry,” Orm said gently as she slowly pulled away. “I can’t go with you tonight.”
Lingling kept the smile on her face perfectly.
Years of loving Orm had taught her how to hide pain beautifully.
“Something came up?” she asked softly.
Orm bit her lower lip shyly before nodding.
“Sean’s taking me there tonight.”
And suddenly—
everything became quiet.
Lingling could still hear sounds outside the office.
Employees laughing somewhere down the hallway.
The constant hum of printers.
Phones ringing endlessly.
Footsteps passing by.
But all of it sounded far away now.
Distant.
Muffled.
Like she had been dropped underwater.
Still—
she smiled.
Because loving Orm meant never making her feel guilty for being happy.
“Oh,” Lingling whispered gently. “That’s nice.”
Orm nodded, cheeks turning slightly pink.
“And…” she hesitated again before looking down shyly. “Sean’s courting me.”
There it was.
The sentence Lingling had been dreading for months.
Sean’s courting me.
Not teasingly.
Not casually.
Not something Orm would forget tomorrow.
Real.
Serious.
Orm looked strangely nervous after admitting it.
Almost like Lingling’s reaction mattered more than anyone else’s.
And maybe it did.
Because Lingling gathered every shattered piece of herself together just to smile warmly at her.
“That’s good, Orm.”
Her voice nearly cracked on the last word.
But Orm didn’t notice.
Or maybe she trusted Lingling too much to ever think she could be hurting.
“He’s really sincere,” Orm admitted quietly. “I think… I want to try.”
Lingling nodded slowly.
Every movement suddenly felt heavy.
Like her body had forgotten how to function naturally.
“Well,” she said with a soft laugh, “you deserve someone who’ll take care of you.”
Orm smiled instantly.
And God.
That smile nearly destroyed Lingling right there.
Because Lingling had spent years taking care of Orm quietly.
Remembering her coffee orders.
Keeping medicine inside her bag because Orm always forgot hers.
Driving across the city at midnight whenever Orm cried over work stress.
Learning how to calm her anxiety.
Learning every version of her silence.
But somehow—
she was still never the person Orm looked at that way.
“Thank you for understanding,” Orm said softly.
Lingling stared at her quietly for a moment.
And suddenly the memories came crashing all at once.
Orm feeding her breakfast inside the car because Lingling skipped meals too often.
Beach trips where Orm clung onto her arm the entire time.
Movie nights where Orm accidentally fell asleep on her shoulder.
Late-night drives with music playing softly between them.
Orm drunkenly mumbling, “You love me anyway.”
Yeah.
That had always been the problem.
Lingling loved her too much.
Enough to stay.
Enough to lose.
Enough to smile through heartbreak if it meant Orm could stay happy.
“Text me when you get home,” Lingling said gently.
“I will.”
“And stay safe.”
Orm nodded immediately before grabbing her bag excitedly.
Excited for someone else.
Then, before leaving, Orm walked back toward her one last time and wrapped her arms around Lingling again.
Soft.
Warm.
Careless.
The kind of hug that meant everything to one person and almost nothing to the other.
“Bye, Ling.”
Lingling forced herself to smile.
“Have fun.”
Orm beamed before finally leaving the office.
And Lingling watched her go.
Watched the elevator doors close.
Watched the space beside her become empty.
The room suddenly felt too quiet after that.
Too cold.
Lingling stood there alone long after Orm disappeared from sight.
Still smiling.
Even when her eyes had already turned glassy.
The drive home felt unbearable.
Bangkok traffic stretched endlessly beneath blurred city lights, red brake lights bleeding across the rain-soaked roads like open wounds. The sky outside was dark and heavy, matching the ache sitting inside Lingling’s chest.
Inside the car, everything felt painfully quiet.
Only the weak rhythm of the windshield wipers filled the silence.
Swipe.
Swipe.
Swipe.
And beneath it—
Lingling’s uneven breathing.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. Her shoulders were stiff. Her throat burned from holding too much back.
But no matter how hard she tried to focus on the road—
she could still hear Orm’s voice clearly in her head.
Sean’s courting me.
I think I want to try.
Lingling swallowed hard.
Then, for one miserable second, she smiled to herself.
A small, broken, pathetic little smile.
Because even after hearing those words…
even after feeling something inside her crack so violently—
the last thing she told Orm was:
Text me when you get home safely.
As if her heart hadn’t just been shattered right in front of her.
As if she hadn’t spent years loving Orm in every silent way a person could possibly love someone.
The realization hurt more than anything else.
A tear slipped quietly down her cheek.
Then another.
Then another.
Until suddenly she couldn’t stop anymore.
Her vision blurred beneath the glow of the city lights, tears distorting every passing car into streaks of red and white. A shaky breath escaped her lips, followed by another—
then quiet sobs finally began slipping out of her throat.
Lingling bit down hard on her lower lip as if she could physically force herself to stop crying.
She couldn’t.
Her chest hurt too much.
Her hands trembled violently against the steering wheel.
So when the traffic slowed near a red light, she quickly pulled the car to the side of the road because she genuinely could not see anymore.
And there—
surrounded by strangers, blaring horns, rainwater reflecting neon signs, and headlights from passing cars—
Lingling finally broke.
Not gracefully.
Not quietly.
Not beautifully like the movies made heartbreak seem.
She bent forward against the steering wheel as a painful sob tore out of her chest, raw and shaking and ugly. Her entire body trembled violently as years of buried feelings came crashing down all at once.
It sounded like grief.
Like exhaustion.
Like someone who had spent far too long pretending they were okay.
Her forehead rested against the wheel while tears poured endlessly down her face.
Because how cruel was this?
How unbelievably cruel.
To love someone for years in all the quiet ways that mattered—
and still lose them to somebody else.
Lingling shut her eyes tightly, but it only made the memories come faster.
Orm falling asleep on her shoulder during late-night drives, soft breaths warming the fabric of Lingling’s hoodie while she drove slower just so Orm wouldn’t wake up too soon.
Orm stealing fries from her plate and laughing whenever Lingling pretended to get annoyed.
Orm hugging her from behind while waiting for coffee, chin resting comfortably against her shoulder like that spot had always belonged to her.
Orm calling her first whenever something good happened.
Whenever something bad happened too.
Orm reaching for her hand naturally without thinking twice about it.
Orm whining dramatically whenever Lingling got too busy with work.
Orm looking at her with complete trust and saying softly—
“You love me anyway.”
And God.
Lingling did.
She loved her anyway.
She loved her through every mixed signal.
Every almost moment.
Every false hope.
Every time Orm unknowingly blurred the line between friendship and something far more dangerous.
Lingling loved her in every possible lifetime.
That was the tragedy of it.
To Orm, those moments were harmless.
Comfort.
Affection.
Safety.
Lingling was simply the person who stayed.
The person who always understood.
But to Lingling—
those moments became everything.
They became home.
A home she carefully built around Orm without ever realizing she was building it alone.
And now somebody else was being invited into the space Lingling spent years protecting inside her heart.
Somebody else was getting the chance Lingling never even had the courage to ask for.
A fresh wave of pain crashed into her chest.
Junji’s voice echoed bitterly in her memory.
“What if she falls for someone else?”
Back then Lingling laughed it off.
Told her Orm wouldn’t.
Told her she knew Orm better than anyone.
Told her she was okay with waiting.
Now she finally understood what she meant.
Because this—
this felt unbearable.
It felt like grieving a future that never even existed.
Like mourning memories that only one person attached meaning to.
Like standing alone inside a love story the other person never realized they were part of.
And maybe that was the cruelest part of all.
Orm never lied to her.
Not once.
Orm never promised forever.
Never promised love.
Never asked Lingling to wait.
All those years, Lingling willingly handed her heart over without Orm ever knowing she was holding it.
The traffic light eventually turned green.
Cars behind her honked impatiently.
One after another.
Sharp sounds cutting through the night.
But Lingling couldn’t move.
Not yet.
She pressed a trembling hand against her mouth as another sob escaped her throat, tears continuing to fall endlessly down her face.
Because for the first time—
after years of loving Orm quietly, faithfully, hopelessly—
Lingling finally realized something that completely destroyed her.
No amount of loving Orm silently was ever going to make Orm choose her back.
—
When Lingling finally got home, the condo felt unbearably hollow.
Not quiet.
Not peaceful.
Just… empty.
The kind of empty that pressed against her ribs the moment the door closed behind her.
Usually, by this hour, her phone would already be lighting up.
A missed call from Orm asking if she got home safely.
A random voice message filled with laughter.
A blurry photo of food Orm forgot to eat.
A meme sent with no context at all.
Anything.
Something.
But tonight—
there was nothing.
No notifications.
No sounds.
No Orm.
And somehow, that silence hurt more than any argument ever could.
Lingling stood motionless near the entrance for several long seconds, fingers still wrapped around her car keys.
The condo lights remained dim.
She didn’t bother turning them on properly.
Didn’t bother removing her shoes immediately.
Didn’t bother fixing the tears threatening to fall again.
Everything inside her felt too heavy for basic things.
Her chest ached with a kind of exhaustion sleep could never fix.
Slowly, she walked deeper into the condo, passing the kitchen island where Orm once sat at two in the morning eating instant noodles while complaining about work.
Passing the couch where Orm used to fall asleep during movie nights.
Passing the blanket Orm always stole despite insisting she wasn’t cold.
Every corner of the place carried her.
Every little thing felt haunted by memories Lingling suddenly wished she could forget.
But forgetting Orm had never been possible.
Not after all these years.
Not after loving her for this long.
Lingling exhaled shakily before turning away from the suffocating silence around her.
Then she headed downstairs.
Straight toward the private gym.
Like she was trying to outrun her own thoughts.
The cold fluorescent lights flickered softly when she entered.
The room smelled faintly of rubber mats and metal.
Empty.
Still.
The punching bag hung at the center beneath the white lights.
Waiting for her.
Lingling stared at it for a long moment.
Jaw tight.
Eyes burning.
Then quietly, she grabbed the hand wraps from the nearby bench.
Her movements were slow.
Mechanical.
Like her body was functioning separately from her mind.
She wrapped her knuckles carefully, pulling the fabric tighter than necessary.
Tighter.
Tighter.
As if pain would somehow ground her.
As if hurting physically would feel easier than whatever was happening inside her chest.
When she finally stepped forward—
she punched.
Hard.
The sound echoed violently across the empty gym.
The chain above the punching bag rattled sharply.
Lingling inhaled roughly.
Then punched again.
Again.
Again.
Each strike carried something she never said aloud.
Punch.
I love you.
Punch.
Please look at me.
Punch.
Why was I never enough?
The bag swung aggressively under the force of her hits.
Her breathing became ragged almost immediately.
Violent.
Unsteady.
But Lingling kept going.
Because stopping meant thinking.
And thinking meant remembering.
So she punched harder.
Sweat dampened her hair.
Tears blurred her vision.
Still, she didn’t stop.
The pain in her knuckles barely registered anymore.
All she could feel was Orm everywhere inside her head.
Orm laughing in the passenger seat during late-night drives.
Orm falling asleep on her shoulder after exhausting workdays.
Orm reaching for her instinctively in crowded places.
Orm calling her first whenever life became too overwhelming.
Lingling had been there for everything.
Every breakdown.
Every celebration.
Every tiny moment in between.
She remembered driving Orm home every single night just to spend a few more minutes beside her.
Remembered memorizing the exact amount of sugar Orm liked in her coffee.
Remembered carrying medicine in her own bag because Orm constantly forgot to take care of herself.
Remembered answering every 2 AM call without hesitation.
Even when exhausted.
Even when busy.
Even when it hurt.
Because loving Orm had never felt like a choice.
It had simply become part of her existence.
Natural.
Constant.
Quiet.
And maybe that was the problem.
Lingling loved her so naturally that nobody noticed how much she was giving away in the process.
Not even Orm.
Especially not Orm.
Another punch landed hard enough to make the chain creak loudly.
Lingling let out a broken breath.
Because despite all those years—
despite all her silent devotion—
someone else still got to stand beside Orm openly.
Someone else got to hold her hand without fear.
Someone else got the title.
The certainty.
The future.
While Lingling remained exactly what she had always been.
The best friend.
The safe place.
The almost.
The punching gradually slowed.
Her arms felt heavier now.
Her body trembling from exhaustion.
But the ache inside her chest remained untouched.
Untouched and unbearable.
Finally—
the last punch landed weakly against the bag before her fist dropped lifelessly at her side.
Silence filled the gym again.
Except for Lingling’s uneven breathing.
The room suddenly felt too large.
Too cold.
Too lonely.
Her hands trembled violently.
And without warning, the exhaustion crashed into her all at once.
Lingling staggered backward slightly before sinking against the wall.
Slowly.
Heavily.
Like her body could no longer carry the weight of everything she was feeling.
She bent forward, one shaking hand covering her eyes.
And finally—
finally—
she stopped pretending.
Because for months, Lingling kept convincing herself that she still had time.
That maybe Orm would eventually notice.
Maybe one day Orm would look at her differently.
Maybe someday Lingling’s love would stop being invisible.
But tonight made everything painfully clear.
Orm was slipping away from her.
Little by little.
Day by day.
Into someone else’s arms.
And the cruelest part was—
Orm didn’t even realize she was taking Lingling’s entire heart with her every time she left.