Chapter 16
The drive back to Khon Kaen nearly destroyed Lingling completely.
Rain poured endlessly across the highway as if the sky itself refused to stop grieving with her.
The windshield blurred over and over beneath the storm, wipers moving desperately from side to side yet never fast enough to clear the water completely. Headlights from passing cars streaked through the darkness like shattered memories—appearing for only a second before disappearing again.
Everything outside looked distant.
Unreal.
And inside the car—
Lingling finally broke.
Not the quiet crying she had perfected through the years.
Not the silent tears she used to hide behind bathroom doors, late-night showers, and long drives home where nobody could hear her.
This time—
she sobbed so hard her chest physically hurt.
The kind of crying that stole oxygen from the lungs.
That made every breath come out uneven and painful.
The kind that made her feel like her ribs were cracking apart just to make room for the grief inside her.
Her hands trembled violently against the steering wheel while tears blurred her vision again and again.
She tried wiping them away.
Tried breathing properly.
Tried focusing on the road.
But every single thing inside her was collapsing too fast.
Because for years—
Lingling prepared herself for one specific heartbreak.
She rehearsed it endlessly in her mind.
Orm will never love me back.
That was the pain she learned how to survive.
She taught herself how to smile through it.
How to stay.
How to love quietly without asking for anything in return.
She memorized the art of settling for friendship because she genuinely believed that was the closest she would ever get to having Orm.
And somehow—
that hurt less than this.
Because nothing—
nothing—
could have prepared her for the truth instead.
Orm loved her too.
God.
That was the cruelest part of all.
They loved each other.
Not casually.
Not halfway.
Not temporarily.
They loved each other deeply enough to ruin themselves over it.
And still—
love wasn’t enough to save them.
Lingling let out a broken laugh that dissolved immediately into another sob.
Her fingers tightened painfully around the steering wheel.
Because maybe some stories were simply written to hurt no matter how much love existed inside them.
Maybe some people were destined to meet at the wrong time no matter how right they were for each other.
At one point, Lingling had to pull over near the side of the highway because she genuinely could not see the road anymore.
Rain hammered violently against the roof of the car.
Large trucks sped past in the darkness, their headlights briefly illuminating her shattered reflection through the window.
And there—
completely alone—
Lingling bent forward and cried into her trembling hands.
Trying to breathe.
Trying not to scream.
Trying to survive the unbearable feeling of losing Orm all over again.
Because somehow—
every version of loving Orm always ended in grief.
Whether Orm knew about her feelings or not.
Whether they stayed friends or became something more.
Whether Lingling stayed silent or finally confessed.
Every road still led here.
To heartbreak.
To goodbye.
Lingling weakly leaned her forehead against the steering wheel.
Her shoulders shook violently with every sob.
And suddenly—
Orm’s voice replayed inside her head again.
“I love you.”
Fresh tears spilled instantly down Lingling’s face.
God.
Why say it now?
Why only now—
when there was already a child involved?
When Sean already existed in Orm’s future?
When there was already a wedding invitation sitting between them like a final sentence written in ink?
Why wait until loving each other became impossible?
Lingling cried harder.
Because hearing those words should have healed something inside her.
For years, she dreamed about hearing Orm say them.
Sometimes while driving home alone.
Sometimes before sleeping.
Sometimes during random moments when Orm smiled too softly at her and Lingling had to pretend it meant nothing.
She imagined that confession a thousand different ways.
But never like this.
Never while knowing she was about to lose her anyway.
Instead of healing her—
it ruined her completely.
Now Lingling would spend the rest of her life carrying the knowledge that the woman she loved loved her too.
And still—
they couldn’t be together.
There was something unbearably tragic about mutual love arriving too late.
Lingling laughed bitterly through tears.
Because maybe BenBen was right all along.
“Was there a lifetime waiting for us… in a world where I was yours?”
The lyric echoed painfully inside her chest.
Maybe they were simply born in the wrong version of the story.
Maybe somewhere else—
in another universe—
Orm chose her sooner.
Maybe there existed another lifetime where Lingling confessed first.
Where fear didn’t ruin everything.
Where timing was kinder.
Where Sean never entered the picture.
Where no innocent child would get hurt because two people realized their love too late.
Maybe somewhere—
there was a version of them waking up beside each other peacefully.
A version where Orm wore Lingling’s ring instead.
A version where they never had to say goodbye in parking lots while pretending to be strong.
But not here.
Not this life.
This lifetime gave them love only after it became impossible to keep.
The rain continued pouring relentlessly while Lingling sat there crying alone beside the highway.
And for the first time in years—
she finally understood what it truly meant to lose someone even while they still loved you back.
It was worse than rejection.
Worse than one-sided love.
Because this time there was no closure to hold onto.
No anger.
No hatred.
No reason to move on.
Just love.
Endless love with nowhere to go.
—
Lingling had to stop the car three separate times before reaching Khon Kaen.
The first time—
because she couldn’t breathe properly through the sobbing.
Her chest tightened so painfully she genuinely thought she might faint.
The second time—
because her hands were shaking too badly to hold the steering wheel safely.
And the third—
because she nearly crashed after suddenly remembering the exact way Orm looked at her before whispering:
“I love you.”
The memory hit her so violently she accidentally swerved.
Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs while panic and grief crashed together inside her chest.
Lingling immediately pulled over afterward, breathing hard while sobs tore through her again.
Because now those words would haunt her forever.
Not as comfort.
Not as healing.
But as proof that they almost had everything.
Almost.
And sometimes “almost” hurt more than never having it at all.
By the time Lingling finally reached the apartment in Khon Kaen, it was already past midnight.
Rainwater soaked through the sleeves of her jacket as she slowly walked toward the door.
Every step felt unbearably heavy.
Exhaustion clung to her body now in a way sleep could never fix.
This wasn’t physical tiredness.
This was heartbreak carved directly into someone’s soul.
The lights inside the apartment were still on.
Waiting for her.
Junji immediately stood up from the couch the second the door opened.
And the moment she saw Lingling’s face—
she knew.
Everything.
Fluke slowly lowered the mug in his hands too, expression falling almost instantly.
Neither of them spoke right away.
Because Lingling already looked like someone barely holding herself together.
Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot.
Her lips trembled faintly.
Her entire body looked weak from hours of crying.
Like someone who spent the whole night trying not to collapse—
and finally lost the fight.
Lingling dropped her car keys weakly onto the kitchen counter.
The sound echoed softly through the apartment.
Then finally—
finally—
she broke apart completely.
A devastated sob escaped her mouth before she could stop it.
Junji rushed toward her immediately and wrapped both arms tightly around her.
“Oh, Ling…”
And that was enough.
The second someone held her—
Lingling shattered.
She collapsed against Junji while crying uncontrollably.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Completely.
The kind of crying that came from years of loving someone too deeply.
Years of waiting silently.
Years of pretending friendship was enough when it was killing her slowly.
Years of surviving on crumbs.
On almost-confessions.
Almost-touches.
Almost-love.
Junji started crying too while holding her tighter.
Because hearing Lingling cry like this felt unbearable.
It sounded like grief.
Real grief.
Like mourning someone still alive.
Fluke quietly walked toward them afterward before wrapping his arms around both of them without saying anything.
And somehow—
that tiny kitchen beneath dim apartment lights became the safest place Lingling had left.
Because for the first time that night—
she didn’t have to pretend she was okay anymore.
Through broken breaths and endless tears—
Lingling told them everything.
The wedding invitation.
The pregnancy.
Orm saying “I love you.”
And how despite finally hearing the words she waited years for—
it still ended with goodbye.
Junji cried openly with her.
Tears streamed endlessly down her face while she held Lingling tighter and tighter.
Because she knew.
God, she knew how long Lingling loved Orm.
She had witnessed every silent sacrifice.
Every hidden heartbreak.
Every time Lingling smiled while secretly hurting.
Fluke stayed quieter.
But he kept wiping his eyes repeatedly while listening.
Jaw clenched tightly.
Heartbroken for both of them.
Because there was something devastating about two people loving each other so much and still failing to end up together.
And that night—
inside a small apartment far away from Bangkok—
three people sat together beneath soft kitchen lights while mourning a love that arrived too late to be saved.
Outside, the rain never stopped.
And somewhere in another city—
Orm was probably crying too.
—
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And somehow—
Lingling barely felt alive anymore.
She existed.
That was all.
Like someone moving through life on autopilot while her heart remained stranded somewhere else entirely.
Every morning, she woke up inside the company apartment in Khon Kaen with swollen eyes and exhaustion sitting heavily inside her chest.
For a few seconds after waking up—
everything felt blank.
Then reality returned again.
Orm was getting married.
Orm was carrying someone else’s child.
Orm loved her too.
And somehow—
that last part still hurt the most.
Lingling would lie there staring silently at the ceiling while trying to gather enough strength to get out of bed.
Some mornings she genuinely couldn’t.
Junji started waking her up quietly after noticing how long she stayed motionless every day.
“Ling,” she would whisper gently while sitting beside her bed. “You’ll be late.”
Lingling always nodded slowly.
Then forced herself to stand.
Because life cruelly kept moving no matter how broken someone became.
So she worked.
Reviewed blueprints.
Attended meetings.
Signed approval papers.
Answered contractors calmly.
Walked through noisy construction sites pretending nothing inside her was collapsing.
And somehow—
that scared Junji and Fluke more.
Because Lingling never exploded.
Never screamed.
Never blamed anyone.
She just became quieter.
Softer.
Like grief had slowly drained all the light out of her.
Sometimes workers would joke around near her like usual, and Lingling would smile politely.
But the second they looked away—
her expression immediately emptied again.
Like happiness physically couldn’t stay inside her anymore.
At night, she returned to the apartment exhausted beyond words.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
And every single night—
without fail—
she cried herself to sleep again.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Like a cycle her body no longer knew how to escape.
Some nights Junji and Fluke stayed beside her quietly in the living room until sunrise.
None of them really spoke much anymore during those nights.
What was there left to say?
No advice could fix this.
No comforting words could undo timing.
So instead—
they simply stayed.
—
One night, rain poured softly outside while old music played quietly from Fluke’s speaker near the kitchen counter.
The apartment lights remained dim.
Junji sat beside Lingling on the couch gently rubbing circles against her back while Lingling cried silently into her knees.
Fluke sat on the floor nearby nursing a half-finished drink while occasionally glancing at Lingling helplessly.
Because what could they possibly do to ease this kind of pain?
Lingling wasn’t grieving rejection.
That would’ve been easier.
She was grieving a love that existed too late to survive.
And somehow—
that was crueler.
—
Sometimes the three of them drank until sunrise without saying much at all.
Junji would eventually rest her head against Lingling’s shoulder quietly.
Fluke would tap Lingling’s shoulder gently whenever her crying became too difficult to hide.
And in between the silence—
music kept playing softly in the background while the city outside slowly slept and woke again.
—
Sometimes Lingling sat there staring into nothing.
Completely lost somewhere inside herself.
And every now and then—
her tears would suddenly fall again without warning.
No dramatic breakdown.
No sound.
Just silent tears slipping endlessly down her face while she stared blankly ahead.
Because everything reminded her of Orm now.
Coffee shops.
Late-night drives.
Banana cakes.
Hydrangeas.
Even hearing someone laugh too softly in the next room sometimes hurt unexpectedly.
Another night, while driving home from the another site, Lingling saw hydrangeas being sold outside a small roadside flower shop.
She nearly cried at the traffic light.
Because Orm loved hydrangeas.
Because Orm left one behind in Khon Kaen.
Because somewhere inside one of Lingling’s jacket pockets—
that dried keychain still existed.
She still carried it everywhere.
Pathetic.
Hopeless.
But Lingling couldn’t let it go yet.
Not when Orm still existed in almost every corner of her life.
And maybe the cruelest memory of all—
the one that haunted her most—
wasn’t even the kisses.
Or the goodbye.
It was hearing Orm say:
“I love you.”
Too late.
Far too late.
Because now there was already a baby on the way.
A wedding.
A future Lingling could never become part of no matter how much love existed between them.
Sometimes Lingling would stare out the apartment window late at night and wonder if Orm cried too.
If she still thought about Khon Kaen.
If she still remembered the way they held each other in the dark like the world was ending.
If she missed Lingling as desperately as Lingling missed her.
And every single time—
Lingling hated herself for still hoping the answer was yes.
Because despite everything—
despite the heartbreak, the silence, the impossible ending—
Lingling still loved Orm exactly the same.
Maybe even more now that she knew the love was real all along.
And that was the tragedy she could no longer escape.
Because some loves don’t disappear after goodbye.
They simply remain inside you quietly—
aching forever.
—
A month later, the Khon Kaen project finally ended.
The team returned to Bangkok.
Back to familiar office hallways.
Back to elevator rides and conference rooms and glass walls overlooking the city skyline.
Back to old routines that suddenly no longer felt comforting.
And most painfully—
back to the place where everything between them first started.
The first coffee.
The first late-night overtime together.
The first accidental touches that lingered too long.
The first feelings neither of them knew how to name yet.
And seeing Orm again nearly destroyed Lingling all over again.
Because Orm looked different now.
Thinner.
Quieter.
Like the past month drained something out of her too.
The sparkle she usually carried around the office had dimmed completely.
Even her smiles looked fragile now.
But she was still beautiful.
Painfully beautiful.
And somehow that made everything worse.
Because Lingling still loved her instantly the second she saw her again.
Like her heart never learned.
The morning they officially returned to headquarters, Lingling stepped out of the elevator carrying documents against her chest—
then froze.
Orm stood near the reception area speaking softly with one of the senior managers.
Wearing a cream-colored blouse.
Hair neatly tied back.
One hand unconsciously resting near her stomach while listening quietly.
And there—
gleaming cruelly beneath the office lights—
was still the engagement ring on her finger.
Lingling’s chest tightened so painfully she almost lost her balance.
Because suddenly reality returned all over again.
Orm wasn’t just someone she lost.
Orm belonged to another future now.
A future already moving forward without Lingling in it.
Around the office, conversations buzzed endlessly about the upcoming wedding.
One and a half months from now.
Everyone seemed excited.
Happy.
“Did you see the venue photos?”
“I heard Sean rented an entire garden hotel.”
“They’re so perfect together honestly.”
“And the baby too… God, Sean must be so happy.”
“Orm looks glowing lately.”
Every single conversation felt like another knife twisting slowly into Lingling’s chest.
She learned quickly how to survive it.
Silence.
Avoidance.
Distance.
So Lingling stopped looking for Orm completely.
No more waiting outside her department after meetings.
No more lunch invitations.
No more random drives home together after overtime.
No more checking if Orm already ate dinner.
No more soft goodnight calls at 2 AM just because neither of them could sleep.
Lingling erased herself from Orm’s daily life little by little.
Because staying close was killing her.
The first time Orm tried approaching her again happened during a Monday meeting.
Everyone sat around the conference table discussing revisions for a new project proposal.
Lingling focused carefully on the presentation slides in front of her while pretending her heart wasn’t beating too fast.
Then suddenly—
a familiar voice spoke softly beside her.
“Ling… can we talk after this?”
Lingling froze for half a second.
Just half.
Then calmly turned another page in her folder.
“About work?”
Orm visibly faltered.
“…No.”
Lingling nodded once without looking at her.
“Then I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss.”
The silence afterward felt devastating.
Junji glanced up immediately from across the table.
Fluke looked down quietly.
And Orm—
Orm looked like someone had physically hurt her.
But Lingling kept her eyes on the paperwork the entire meeting afterward.
Because if she looked directly at Orm—
she might break all over again.
After that day—
avoidance became routine.
Whenever Orm entered a room—
Lingling found a reason to leave shortly after.
Whenever Orm smiled softly at her in passing—
Lingling only nodded politely before walking away.
Whenever Orm tried lingering nearby after meetings—
Lingling buried herself in work until Orm eventually gave up and left quietly.
And every single time—
Orm looked heartbroken afterward.
The kind of heartbreak she tried hiding unsuccessfully behind tired smiles and lowered eyes.
One afternoon Lingling accidentally overheard two coworkers talking inside the pantry.
“Orm barely talks anymore these days.”
“I heard wedding planning is stressful.”
“Maybe because of the pregnancy too.”
“Still… she looks sad lately.”
Lingling immediately walked out before hearing more.
Because she couldn’t survive knowing Orm was hurting too.
It changed nothing.
It fixed nothing.
All it did was reopen wounds Lingling was desperately trying to stitch closed herself.
Some nights after work, Lingling sat alone inside her car in the basement parking lot long after everyone already left.
Too exhausted to drive home yet.
Too emotionally drained to move.
And every now and then—
she would remember Orm’s voice again.
“I love you.”
The words haunted her differently now.
Not warmly.
Not comfortingly.
But painfully.
Because they became proof that sometimes love arrived only to ruin people.
One evening, while waiting for the elevator alone, Lingling heard soft footsteps approaching behind her.
She already knew who it was before turning around.
Orm.
Quiet.
Tired.
Beautiful in the saddest way.
For a few seconds neither of them spoke.
Then softly—
almost timidly—
Orm asked:
“How have you been?”
Lingling stared ahead at the elevator doors.
“Fine.”
Lie.
A devastating one.
The elevator arrived with a soft ding.
Lingling stepped inside immediately.
But before the doors fully closed—
she glanced up accidentally.
And saw Orm standing there looking at her with the same expression she used to have whenever Lingling walked away during arguments years ago.
Lost.
Like she wanted to stop her but no longer had the right to.
The doors slowly slid shut between them.
And Lingling finally allowed herself to cry again silently inside the empty elevator.
Because even now—
even after deciding to let go—
some part of her still wanted to run back into Orm’s arms.
Still wanted to choose impossible love over peace.
But she forced herself not to.
Because if she looked back again—
Lingling knew she would never survive losing Orm twice.
—
Three weeks later—
the three of them finally went out for dinner after work.
A quiet Japanese restaurant near the river.
The kind with warm yellow lights, wooden walls, and soft instrumental music playing faintly in the background.
Outside, rain poured gently against the glass windows while city lights reflected beautifully across the water.
Everything looked peaceful.
Too peaceful for the heaviness sitting at their table.
Junji tried her best to keep the atmosphere light.
“So apparently the HR manager cried because someone microwaved fish again inside the pantry.”
Fluke immediately groaned dramatically.
“I’m telling you right now, that should count as workplace violence.”
Junji laughed.
“I swear the entire floor smelled traumatized.”
Normally Lingling would’ve smiled at that.
Would’ve teased Fluke for being dramatic.
Would’ve leaned quietly against Junji while laughing softly into her drink.
But tonight—
Lingling barely reacted at all.
She just sat there quietly.
Listening.
Occasionally nodding.
Eyes distant the entire time.
And Junji noticed immediately.
Fluke noticed too.
Because over the past weeks—
Lingling became quieter in a way that scared them.
Not unstable.
Not emotional.
Just… tired.
Like she had already started disconnecting herself from everything around her.
The waiter arrived shortly afterward with fresh dishes and warm tea.
Steam curled softly into the air between them.
Still—
Lingling remained unusually silent.
Until finally—
she slowly placed her chopsticks down against the ceramic plate.
The soft sound immediately made Junji and Fluke look up.
Lingling stared quietly at the tea in front of her for several long seconds.
Then softly—
almost too calmly—
she said:
“I’m resigning.”
Both Junji and Fluke froze instantly.
The restaurant noise around them suddenly felt distant.
Junji blinked first.
“What?”
Lingling inhaled quietly.
Then finally looked at them.
“I already sent my application abroad.”
Junji’s expression slowly fell.
Fluke leaned forward slightly.
“Where?”
A small smile appeared on Lingling’s lips afterward.
But it looked fragile.
Painfully fragile.
“Paris.”
The word settled heavily between them.
Lingling lowered her eyes back toward the tea again.
“My parents want me there anyway.”
Junji stared at her silently.
Because suddenly—
everything made sense.
The emotional distance.
The exhaustion.
The way Lingling had slowly started pulling away from everyone around her.
Fluke inhaled slowly before asking the question neither of them truly wanted answered.
“When?”
Lingling looked outside toward the rain-covered windows.
Cars moved slowly beyond the glass while the river reflected blurred city lights beneath the storm.
And quietly—
with a voice so heartbreakingly calm—
she answered:
“After the wedding.”
Silence immediately swallowed the table.
Heavy.
Painful.
Because both Junji and Fluke understood instantly.
Lingling wasn’t leaving for career growth.
Or adventure.
Or opportunity.
She was leaving because staying here would destroy her completely.
Because every street in Bangkok carried memories of Orm.
Every café.
Every late-night drive.
Every elevator ride inside the office.
Every hallway where Lingling accidentally searched for Orm without realizing it.
And soon—
there would be wedding photos everywhere too.
Announcements.
Congratulations.
A future Lingling would have to watch from the sidelines while pretending she survived it.
So instead—
she chose to disappear.
Junji’s eyes slowly filled with tears.
“You really love her that much, huh?”
Lingling laughed weakly afterward.
And it was genuinely the saddest sound either of them had ever heard.
Because there was no bitterness in it anymore.
Only exhaustion.
Acceptance.
“I think I’ll keep loving her for a very long time.”
Junji immediately looked away while wiping her eyes.
Fluke stayed quiet for several seconds before slowly reaching over and squeezing Lingling’s shoulder gently.
And somehow—
that small gesture nearly broke Lingling again.
Because after months of drowning quietly—
these two people stayed beside her through all of it.
Through the crying.
The sleepless nights.
The silence.
The almost-love story that ruined her completely.
Junji sniffled quietly before whispering:
“Paris is really far.”
Lingling smiled faintly.
“Maybe that’s the point.”
Another silence followed.
Softer this time.
Sad in a quieter way.
Then Fluke suddenly asked gently:
“Does Orm know?”
Lingling’s eyes lowered immediately.
Slowly—
she shook her head.
“No.”
Junji frowned slightly.
“You’re not gonna tell her?”
Lingling stared down at her untouched tea.
Thinking.
Then finally whispered:
“I think I already said goodbye enough times.”
Junji broke down crying quietly at that.
Because she knew Lingling meant it.
After everything—
Lingling was finally choosing herself.
Even if it meant leaving pieces of her heart behind forever.
Outside, rain continued pouring softly over the city.
Inside the restaurant—
three people sat beneath warm lights while grief lingered silently between unfinished plates and cooling tea.
And for the first time in years—
Lingling finally made a decision that did not revolve around waiting for Orm anymore.