Chapter 8
By the time Orm finished reading-
her hands were trembling so badly she could barely keep holding the letter.
Tears slipped down her cheeks uncontrollably, falling one after another onto the paper resting on her lap.
The words blurred beneath her vision.
Because suddenly-
everything made sense.
Every almost-confession Lingling swallowed back.
Every lingering touch that lasted a second too long.
Every quiet look Lingling gave her whenever she thought Orm wasn't paying attention.
The memories came all at once after that.
Too many.
Too fast.
Like her mind had opened a door she could never close again.
She remembered that night outside the company building when heavy rain flooded the streets of Bangkok. Orm had complained earlier that morning about forgetting her umbrella, laughing carelessly about it during a meeting.
By the time she finished presenting the designs to the investors, the storm had become worse.
And there was Lingling-
standing outside the entrance under the pouring rain with an extra umbrella in her hand.
Soaked.
Waiting.
Orm remembered scolding her back then.
"You could've gotten sick."
Lingling only smiled softly before pulling the umbrella over Orm's head instead of her own.
"I know," she had answered lightly. "But you hate getting caught in the rain."
At the time, Orm thought nothing of it.
Now-
the memory hurt.
Another one followed immediately after.
Orm casually mentioning during lunch that she missed a small café near the beach they once visited during a company retreat.
It had only been a passing comment.
Something meaningless.
Yet later that evening, Lingling drove nearly two hours just to bring her favorite pastries from that café back to the city.
Orm remembered laughing in disbelief.
"You're insane."
Lingling only shrugged while opening the box carefully for her.
"You sounded like you really wanted it."
Back then, Orm thought that was simply how Lingling expressed friendship.
Now she wondered how she could've been so blind.
Her chest tightened painfully.
More memories surfaced.
Lingling kneeling in front of her after company parties to remove her heels because Orm's feet hurt too much.
Lingling instinctively moving her coffee away from the edge of the table because she knew Orm was clumsy when exhausted.
Lingling memorizing her orders, her moods, the things she liked and disliked without ever asking twice.
Lingling noticing every tiny change in her expression before anyone else could.
And suddenly-
Orm realized something terrifying.
Sean loved her beautifully.
Openly.
The kind of love anyone could easily recognize.
But Lingling-
Lingling loved her quietly.
In careful ways.
In patient ways.
In devastatingly selfless ways Orm never fully understood until now.
The realization knocked the air out of her lungs.
Because for years, Orm truly believed those moments were ordinary.
Just Lingling being Lingling.
Warm.
Reliable.
Constant.
But looking back now-
no one had ever loved her that gently before.
No one had ever paid attention to her the way Lingling did.
Not even close.
Orm pressed a trembling hand against her mouth as another sob escaped her.
Her chest ached so badly it almost felt unbearable.
And still-
the memories continued.
Late-night calls where Lingling stayed awake listening to her rant about work even when she had meetings early the next morning.
Forehead kisses Lingling gave absentmindedly whenever Orm became too stressed.
Beach sunsets spent in comfortable silence.
Lingling always giving her the bigger portion of food without making it obvious.
Lingling slowing her walking pace whenever Orm wore uncomfortable shoes.
Lingling remembering the smallest details about her without effort-
her favorite flowers.
The exact way she liked her coffee.
The songs she played whenever she couldn't sleep.
The fact that Orm secretly cried during sad movies even when she denied it afterward.
And the worst part was-
Lingling never once asked for anything in return.
She simply stayed.
Always stayed.
Even while quietly breaking herself apart beside her.
Orm's breathing became uneven.
Her tears wouldn't stop anymore.
Because now Lingling was gone.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough for Orm to finally feel the absence.
Enough for the silence to become painfully loud.
Enough for Orm to realize how much of her life had unknowingly revolved around Lingling's presence.
The mornings suddenly felt emptier now.
The long drives home felt colder.
Even the little things felt wrong.
No unread messages reminding her to eat.
No coffee waiting outside her office during stressful days.
No quiet voice asking if she got home safely.
And God-
Orm missed her.
So much it physically hurt.
From the bathroom, Sean called her softly.
"Orm?"
His voice snapped through the heavy silence of the room.
Orm quickly wiped her tears with shaking fingers, trying desperately to compose herself.
But her gaze remained fixed on the dried hydrangea trembling gently in her hands.
The flower Lingling remembered all these years.
The flower Orm had forgotten about completely.
Her chest tightened again.
Because suddenly she understood why Lingling looked at her the way she did sometimes.
Why there was always sadness hidden beneath her smiles.
Why Lingling always seemed like she wanted to say something-
only to stop herself at the last second.
Orm lowered her head as fresh tears slipped silently down her face.
And for the very first time-
Orm began wondering if maybe she had lost something long before she ever realized how much it truly mattered.
-
Another few weeks passed.
And somehow, Orm felt like she was slowly falling apart in silence.
At first, it was subtle enough to ignore.
A forgotten meeting here.
A missed deadline there.
Small things.
Things she could still laugh off with a tired smile and a quick apology.
But eventually, even the smallest things started piling up.
One afternoon during a presentation, Orm completely lost her train of thought mid-sentence.
The conference room fell silent.
Her coworkers stared at her, waiting for her to continue while the unfinished slide glowed behind her.
Orm blinked once.
Twice.
Then forced a quiet laugh.
"Sorry," she murmured, rubbing her temple. "I didn't sleep well."
But that wasn't entirely true.
Because it wasn't just lack of sleep anymore.
It was exhaustion.
The kind that settled deep inside someone's chest and stayed there.
The kind caused by overthinking every quiet moment of the day.
By remembering things she wished she had noticed sooner.
By missing someone she didn't even realize had become important until they started pulling away.
After the meeting, one of her coworkers gently stopped her near the pantry.
"You okay, Orm?"
Orm immediately smiled.
Too quickly.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You've been spacing out lately."
Another coworker overheard and added carefully, "You seem tired these days."
"Are you sleeping enough?"
Orm laughed softly again.
The same rehearsed laugh she had been using for weeks now.
"I'm fine. Just busy."
Busy.
That was the easiest lie.
Because the truth was-
she barely slept anymore.
Every night ended the same way.
She would lie awake in the darkness of her condominium unit with Lingling's letter resting beside her on the bed.
Sometimes she reread it.
Sometimes she only stared at it.
Sometimes she memorized certain lines over and over until her chest physically hurt.
The handwriting alone was enough to ruin her.
Careful.
Gentle.
So painfully sincere.
Orm still couldn't understand how Lingling managed to love her that deeply for years without asking for anything in return.
And worse-
she couldn't understand why it took losing her to finally see it.
There were moments now when memories would suddenly hit her without warning.
Lingling waiting outside her office with coffee because Orm skipped breakfast again.
Lingling quietly fixing her hair before an event.
Lingling sending long voice messages just to make sure she got home safe.
Lingling remembering tiny details nobody else ever noticed about her.
Back then, Orm thought that was simply who Lingling was.
Now she realized-
Lingling loved her in every possible way she knew how.
And Orm had stood there all those years completely blind to it.
The realization haunted her.
Especially at night.
Especially during the silence.
Because now that Lingling was slowly disappearing from her life-
Orm finally understood the terrifying weight of absence.
-
Lingling barely replied anymore.
At first, Orm convinced herself that Lingling was just busy.
Then maybe tired.
Then maybe needing space.
But eventually, even excuses became difficult to believe.
Orm started texting first every day.
Sometimes only with stickers.
Sometimes not at all.
And every unanswered message left behind something strange inside Orm's chest.
Something heavy.
Something aching.
Something frighteningly close to heartbreak.
One night, Orm stared at their old conversations until nearly three in the morning.
The difference hurt more than she expected.
Before-
Lingling replied instantly.
No matter how busy she was.
No matter where she was.
Lingling always answered her calls.
Always stayed awake for her.
Always made time.
Always reached back.
Orm never noticed it before because she thought Lingling would simply always be there.
But now-
for the first time in years-
Lingling was slowly letting go.
And Orm finally understood how silence could hurt.
-
One night, Orm sat curled up on the couch, the dim glow of the television forgotten as she absentmindedly scrolled through her gallery.
Photo after photo of Lingling filled the screen.
Lingling asleep inside the car during long road trips, her head tilted against the window, lips slightly parted as if she had argued with the world and finally surrendered to exhaustion.
Lingling laughing too loudly at a beach camping trip, smoke from the grill clinging to her hair while she stubbornly insisted the meat was "supposed to look like that."
Lingling struggling under oversized shopping bags because Orm had simply refused to carry anything, walking ahead with a teasing smile while Lingling followed behind, muttering complaints that never sounded serious.
Lingling sneezing violently beside a bouquet of hydrangeas she insisted on buying, only to immediately regret it when the scent overwhelmed her.
Orm smiled softly at first, thumb lingering over each image like she could press herself back into those moments.
Then her expression shifted.
Her breathing slowed.
Her eyes began to sting.
Because when did Lingling stop being part of her everyday life?
When did absence become something that had weight, something that filled rooms louder than presence ever did?
"Orm."
Sean's voice broke through the quiet.
He stood in the doorway of the living room, holding takeout bags in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other.
Her favorite food.
Her favorite flowers.
Things that used to be enough to make her smile without effort.
He walked in carefully, as if he was entering a space that had already learned how to hurt quietly. He placed everything on the table before sitting beside her on the couch.
"I thought you skipped dinner again," he said gently.
Orm blinked, as if the words took time to reach her. Then she gave a small, delayed smile.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Sean reached up and kissed her forehead softly. It was a gesture so familiar, so careful, so full of quiet affection that it would have comforted anyone else.
But Orm did not move closer.
Her body stayed still.
Her hand, almost instinctively, remained on her phone.
On Lingling's photos.
Sean noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His gaze flickered down for a brief second, resting on the screen, on the frozen smile that wasn't his. Then he looked away just as quickly.
And he said nothing.
Because he loved Orm enough to recognize when her silence was not emptiness-but displacement.
-
That night, Sean stayed over.
The rain came softly, tapping against the windows in a slow, steady rhythm that made the room feel even quieter than before. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow.
Orm lay beside him in bed.
Sean was already asleep.
One arm rested loosely around her waist, grounding her in a way that was gentle and unassuming. His breathing was steady, warm, present in a way that asked for nothing in return.
But Orm couldn't sleep.
Again.
Her eyes stayed open in the dark, fixed on nothing, as if the ceiling might eventually explain what her thoughts could not.
Carefully, slowly, she reached for her phone beneath the blanket, careful not to disturb him.
The screen lit up her face.
And once again, she opened the gallery.
Her thumb moved automatically, as if it had memorized the path.
Lingling's photos.
Then the letter.
The same one she had read so many times she could almost hear Lingling's voice in between the lines.
Her gaze stopped on one sentence.
"How can someone grieve a love that never officially existed?"
Orm's breath caught in her throat.
The words didn't feel like a question anymore.
They felt like an answer she had been avoiding for too long.
Because now she finally understood.
She understood why Lingling had started looking away a little longer near the end.
Why her laughter had become softer, more careful, like she was afraid of breaking something fragile.
Why her silences had started to feel heavier than her words.
Lingling wasn't simply leaving.
Lingling was grieving.
Grieving something unnamed.
Something unclaimed.
Grieving them.
Orm's chest tightened painfully.
And suddenly, it was no longer just Lingling she saw in those photos.
It was herself too.
All the moments she had chosen not to say anything.
All the feelings she had buried under timing, silence, and hesitation.
She was grieving as well.
Even if nothing between them had ever been allowed to fully exist.
A tear slipped down her cheek without warning.
Then another followed before she could stop it.
Orm quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to silence the sound of her breaking.
Beside her, Sean shifted slightly in his sleep. His arm tightened instinctively around her waist, pulling her closer without waking.
The warmth of it was immediate.
Real.
Present.
And it nearly undid her completely.
Because Sean was good.
Too good.
So gentle in a way that never demanded anything she couldn't give.
And that only made the guilt worse.
The following morning, Orm found herself driving without any real destination in mind.
Or maybe she did have one.
Her hands simply kept steering her toward places that carried traces of Lingling.
The riverside café where they used to spend slow weekends pretending to work while Lingling secretly stole bites from her desserts.
The small convenience store Lingling always insisted on stopping by after late-night drives because she "needed snacks to survive the road."
The quiet little park near downtown where they once sat for almost three hours after a disastrous project presentation, neither of them speaking much, just sharing one bottle of water while Lingling nudged her shoulder every few minutes to make her laugh.
Everywhere felt different now.
Quieter.
Bigger.
Emptier.
Like the world had lost something important overnight.
Orm parked outside the riverside café and stayed inside the car for a long moment before finally stepping out.
The familiar bell above the café door rang softly.
For a second, her chest tightened painfully because she almost expected Lingling to look up from one of the corner tables and grin lazily.
"Finally. You're late again."
But of course-
there was no Lingling.
Only silence.
Orm ordered coffee she barely tasted and sat near the window overlooking the river.
The same table Lingling always preferred because she liked watching the boats pass by while pretending not to people-watch.
Orm wrapped both hands around the warm cup, staring blankly outside as memories came crashing into her one after another.
Lingling reaching over automatically to fix her crooked seatbelt before every drive.
Lingling memorizing her coffee order after hearing it only twice.
Lingling walking on the outer side of sidewalks without thinking about it.
Lingling carrying medicine in her bag because Orm constantly forgot hers.
Lingling quietly researching architecture terms late at night just so she could understand Orm's endless work frustrations better.
Even the smallest things.
Lingling removing coriander from her food because Orm hated the taste.
Lingling lowering the car's air-conditioning whenever Orm fell asleep because she got cold easily.
Lingling charging her devices without being asked.
Lingling remembering deadlines Orm herself forgot.
Lingling always noticing.
Always paying attention.
No one had ever loved her that carefully before.
No one had ever learned her so completely.
And suddenly-
the realization became impossible to escape.
Sean loved her, the kind of love people envied.
Safe love.
A love that asked for honesty and gave stability in return.
But Lingling...
Lingling loved her in quiet, devastating ways.
The kind of love that slipped into ordinary moments so naturally that Orm never realized how deeply rooted it had become until it disappeared.
Lingling had woven herself into Orm's daily life so gently that now her absence lived everywhere.
In empty passenger seats.
In unread messages.
In untouched snacks at convenience stores.
In every quiet pause of Orm's day.
Orm finally and clearly understood why everything had felt unbearably hollow lately.
It wasn't simply because she missed Lingling.
She missed being loved by her.
And somehow-
that realization terrified her more than heartbreak itself.
Because what if she realized it too late?
Orm lowered her head slowly, gripping the coffee cup tighter as her chest ached.
How long had Lingling been carrying those feelings alone?
How long had she stood beside Orm, loving her quietly while watching her choose someone else?
The thought alone made guilt crawl painfully through her ribs.
For the first time, Orm began replaying moments differently.
The lingering stares she once ignored.
The small silences.
The almost-confessions hidden behind jokes.
The way Lingling sometimes looked at her when she thought Orm wasn't paying attention.
God.
Lingling had loved her for so long.
And Orm had been blind enough to call it friendship.
Her phone vibrated suddenly against the table.
Orm's heart jumped instantly.
Lingling.
After nearly two days of silence.
(Message)
Orm stared at the screen for a very long time.
Her chest tightening so painfully it almost made her nauseous.
Because even now-
even after creating distance-
even after pulling away-
Lingling still asked if she had eaten.
Still cared instinctively.
Still loved her automatically.
Orm swallowed hard and typed before she could stop herself.
(Message)
The words sat on the screen.
Raw.
Dangerous.
Too honest.
Her fingers froze above the keyboard.
Because what right did she have to say that now?
After choosing someone else?
After letting Lingling quietly break beside her?
After taking and taking from Lingling's love without even realizing what it truly was?
Orm stared at the message until her vision blurred slightly.
Then slowly-
painfully-
she deleted the words.
One letter at a time.
As if punishing herself for even wanting to say them.
Finally, she typed something safer.
Something smaller.
(Message)
The reply came several minutes later.
Only a thumbs up reaction.
Nothing else.
No teasing reply.
No extra comment.
No "You too."
No warmth trying to stretch the conversation longer.
Just a simple reaction.
And somehow-
that hurt more than being ignored completely.
Because it confirmed the one thing Orm had desperately been trying not to admit.
Lingling was learning how to live without her now.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But she was trying.
And the terrifying part?
Orm wasn't sure she knew how to do the same.