Chapter 19
Four years passed.
And somehow-
life slowly became kinder to Lingling.
Not easier.
Not fully healed.
Some heartbreaks never truly disappeared.
They simply learned how to live quietly inside a person.
But still-
life became kinder.
Paris changed her in ways she never expected.
The city moved differently from Bangkok.
Softer mornings wrapped in pale sunlight and cold air.
Long train rides where nobody knew her name.
Tiny cafés hidden between old buildings where people lingered for hours with books and coffee.
Rain that sounded gentler against apartment windows.
And nights beside the Seine where the city lights reflected beautifully across the water while strangers laughed somewhere in the distance.
Paris felt lonely sometimes.
But not the cruel kind of loneliness Lingling left behind in Bangkok.
This loneliness felt peaceful.
Like space.
Like breathing room after years of emotional suffocation.
And for the first time in her life-
Lingling slowly learned how to exist without constantly waiting for someone.
At first-
it terrified her.
The silence.
The stillness.
The absence of Orm in her everyday life.
No unexpected phone calls.
No late-night drives.
No messages waiting for her after exhausting workdays.
Nothing.
Just silence.
So Lingling buried herself in work completely.
Project after project consumed her days.
High-rise buildings.
Luxury developments.
International contracts stretching across different cities in Europe.
She became relentless.
Precise.
Perfect.
Her colleagues admired the way she handled pressure without ever losing composure.
Clients trusted her instantly.
Senior engineers constantly praised her ability to solve impossible structural problems calmly.
And slowly-
the name "Engineer Lingling Kwong" became recognized across firms in Europe.
People spoke about her with admiration.
Brilliant.
Elegant.
Disciplined.
The beautifully handsome Asian engineer who never failed a project.
The woman who walked into meeting rooms quietly then somehow left everyone speechless afterward.
Not only because of her intelligence.
But because Lingling carried herself with a kind of calm sadness that made people curious about her.
Men tried pursuing her.
Women too, most especially.
Executives invited her to dinners.
Architects flirted with her shamelessly during conferences.
One French businesswoman once sent flowers to her office every day for two weeks straight.
Another woman-a museum curator from Milan-spent months asking Lingling out for coffee.
Gifts and food packs flooded her table everyday from her colleagues, from client, from models she barely remembers, and even old maiden.
But Lingling glanced at no one.
Politely.
Gently.
Always kind.
Never interested.
Because while everyone else saw a successful woman building a beautiful life abroad-
nobody really knew the truth.
Lingling worked that hard because silence still terrified her.
Because whenever life became too quiet-
her heart still remembered Orm.
Sometimes it happened unexpectedly.
While passing flower shops filled with hydrangeas.
While hearing old Thai songs playing faintly from somebody's apartment nearby.
While tasting banana cake from a café that somehow reminded her too much of home.
And every single time-
Lingling's chest still ached a little.
Not violently anymore.
Not the way it used to during those first months after leaving Bangkok.
But enough.
Enough to remind her that some people never fully leave your heart.
So Lingling kept herself busy.
Busy enough not to think.
Busy enough not to miss.
Busy enough not to wonder what Orm's life looked like now.
Lingling trained herself not to ask questions.
Because answers no longer belonged to her.
One winter evening, Lingling sat alone beside the Seine after finishing a late meeting.
Snow fell softly around the city while boats drifted slowly across the dark river.
Her phone buzzed beside her with another unread invitation to dinner from someone at work.
Lingling ignored it quietly.
Then stared out at Paris instead.
Four years ago-
she genuinely thought losing Orm would destroy her forever.
And maybe part of her actually did die back then.
The version of Lingling who waited endlessly.
Who loved recklessly.
Who built her entire world around one person.
That version never really survived Bangkok.
But somehow-
another version of her was born afterward.
Stronger.
Quieter.
Lonelier too.
But finally capable of standing alone.
And for the first time in years-
when Lingling thought about Orm-
the memory no longer made her cry immediately.
It only made her chest ache softly.
Like an old scar touched gently in the cold.
Maybe that was healing.
Not forgetting.
Never forgetting.
Just learning how to live despite it.
The wind blew softly against Lingling's coat while Paris glittered quietly around her.
And somewhere deep inside herself-
Lingling realized that somehow she still loved Orm.
Maybe she always would.
But finally-
that love no longer controlled her entire life anymore.
-
Over the years, Lingling stayed in contact with only a few people from Thailand.
Mostly Junji and Fluke.
Some friendships faded naturally with distance and time.
Others became memories tied too painfully to the life she left behind.
But Junji and Fluke remained.
Like pieces of home Lingling couldn't fully let go of.
Sometimes they video-called during weekends.
Usually late at night in Bangkok and early evening in Paris.
Junji would immediately start complaining dramatically the second the call connected.
"I swear if one more client changes the entire design after approval, I'm going to resign and open a beach bar somewhere."
Fluke would roll his eyes from beside her.
"You say that every month."
"Because every month people continue testing my emotional stability."
Lingling would sit quietly inside her family home in Paris while listening to them bicker endlessly.
A soft smile always appearing on her face eventually.
Some things never changed.
Junji was still loud.
Fluke was still annoyingly calm.
And somehow-
hearing them argue about pointless things healed parts of Lingling she didn't realize were still lonely.
Sometimes during those calls, Lingling sat near the tall windows overlooking Paris while rain tapped softly against the glass.
A warm mug rested between her hands.
The city lights shimmered outside beautifully.
And for brief moments-
it almost felt like those painful years in Bangkok existed in another lifetime entirely.
Almost.
Junji constantly updated her about office gossip.
Who got promoted.
Who secretly dated who.
Which manager embarrassed themselves during meetings again.
Fluke occasionally showed her project models while complaining about impossible deadlines.
And Lingling listened quietly to all of it with soft amusement.
But there was one thing Lingling never did.
Not even once.
She never asked about Orm.
Never.
Not casually.
Not accidentally.
Not even during moments when silence stretched long enough for curiosity to slip through.
That was the promise Lingling made to herself the day her plane left Thailand four years ago.
No more looking back.
No more reopening wounds that barely healed closed.
Because she knew herself too well.
One small update would be enough.
One picture.
One story.
One mention of Orm laughing somewhere in Bangkok-
and Lingling's heart would immediately start searching for her all over again.
So she chose distance instead.
Orm had her own life now.
A husband.
A child.
A family.
And Lingling understood long ago that loving someone sometimes meant learning how to leave them peacefully.
Even if part of you still carried the ache quietly forever afterward.
One evening during winter, Lingling sat wrapped in a thick sweater while talking to Junji and Fluke through video call.
Junji was ranting dramatically again.
"This new intern literally called me 'ma'am' today."
Fluke snorted.
"Well... you are aging."
Junji gasped loudly.
"You traitor."
Lingling laughed softly into her coffee for the first time that week.
A genuine laugh.
Small.
But real.
And hearing it immediately made Junji smile too.
"There she is," Junji whispered softly.
Lingling blinked.
"What?"
"That laugh," Junji said gently. "We missed hearing it."
Something inside Lingling tightened quietly at those words.
Because people often assumed healing looked dramatic.
Like moving on completely.
Like forgetting.
But for Lingling-
healing looked like this instead.
Laughing again without forcing it.
Sleeping through the night occasionally.
Learning how to survive ordinary days without grief swallowing her whole.
And maybe that was enough.
During the call, Fluke suddenly started talking about a company family event that happened recently.
Junji groaned dramatically halfway through his story.
"Don't remind me. That event was a disaster."
Lingling smiled faintly while listening absentmindedly.
Then-
for one brief second-
Fluke almost said her name.
"Orm's kid nearly-"
He stopped instantly.
Silence fell for half a heartbeat.
Junji immediately looked at him sharply.
Fluke cursed under his breath softly.
And on the screen-
Lingling's smile faded almost invisibly.
Just for a second.
But she recovered quickly.
Then calmly took another sip of coffee before speaking gently.
"So... did the client approve the revised structure design?"
Junji immediately caught on.
And just like that-
the conversation shifted elsewhere.
Effortlessly.
Carefully.
Like all three of them silently understood the boundaries surrounding Orm's name now.
Because they knew.
Some heartbreaks never fully disappeared.
You simply learned how to live around them.
Like old scars hidden beneath clothing.
No longer bleeding.
But still there.
Still capable of aching unexpectedly whenever touched.
After the call ended that night, Lingling remained sitting quietly by the window long after the screen went dark.
Paris glittered peacefully outside.
Cars moved slowly below the rain-covered streets.
And somewhere deep inside herself-
Lingling acknowledged something she rarely admitted out loud anymore.
She still wondered about Orm sometimes.
Not obsessively.
Not painfully the way she used to.
Just quietly.
Like wondering about someone who once held your entire heart.
Was she happy?
Did she still laugh loudly when embarrassed?
Did she still drink iced coffee too quickly during stressful mornings?
Did motherhood suit her?
Did she still love rainy days and late-night drives?
Did she still think about Khon Kaen sometimes too?
Lingling closed her eyes briefly afterward.
Then slowly placed her untouched coffee down beside her.
Because some questions no longer needed answers.
And maybe love-
real love-
was learning how to let someone remain beautiful in your memories without asking them to return.
-
One evening in Paris, Lingling returned home exhausted after a difficult client meeting.
The moment she stepped inside their family home, warmth immediately wrapped around her.
Soft jazz music played faintly somewhere from the living room.
The smell of freshly cooked food lingered gently in the air.
Lingling loosened her tie tiredly while walking across the marble floor before carelessly tossing her keys onto the counter.
Her mother immediately looked up from the kitchen.
"There's my favorite engineer."
Lingling smiled faintly just as her mother walked over and kissed both her cheeks lovingly.
"You look exhausted."
"I am exhausted," Lingling admitted softly.
Her father appeared shortly afterward carrying plates toward the dining table.
"Then eat first before thinking about work again."
Typical.
Gentle.
Quietly caring in the way fathers often were.
Lingling's chest warmed unexpectedly.
Because for years after leaving Thailand-
her family became the only thing keeping her grounded.
Her younger brother was already sitting at the table scrolling through something on his phone.
The second he saw her, he grinned.
"Finally. Mom almost disowned you for being late."
Lingling rolled her eyes while sitting beside him.
"She says that every week."
"And one day she'll mean it."
Dinner became surprisingly peaceful afterward.
Her mother talked about relatives back in Hong Kong.
Her father discussed business plans between bites of food.
Her younger brother kept teasing Lingling for working too much and "looking emotionally unavailable."
Lingling laughed softly at that.
After dinner, Lingling helped clear the table before finally heading upstairs toward her room.
Rain continued tapping softly outside the windows while Paris glowed quietly beneath the night sky.
The moment she entered her room, she immediately started removing her blazer tiredly-
then her phone buzzed loudly on the bed.
A video call from Junji.
Lingling smiled faintly before answering.
The second the screen connected-
Junji's face appeared screaming dramatically.
"I'M GETTING MARRIED!"
Lingling blinked in shock.
Then unexpectedly-
she laughed.
Actually laughed.
The first genuine laugh she had that entire week.
"Oh my God."
Junji immediately shoved her left hand toward the camera dramatically.
"MARIO FINALLY PROPOSED!"
The giant ring sparkled aggressively beneath the light.
Lingling shook her head smiling softly.
"Took him long enough, Junji."
"I know," Junji scoffed proudly. "I suffered greatly."
Lingling laughed again quietly while sitting against the edge of her bed.
And somehow-
hearing Junji's happiness felt comforting instead of painful.
Maybe because this love story survived.
Maybe because after everything-
someone still got their happy ending.
Junji continued rambling excitedly.
"He literally cried before proposing by the way."
"Of course he did."
"And his hands were shaking! Fluke recorded everything."
Lingling smiled warmly while listening.
Then suddenly-
Junji's expression softened completely.
"And you're my maid of honor."
Lingling froze slightly.
The words caught her off guard.
For a moment-
something warm spread quietly through her chest.
Because despite everything...
Despite the years.
Despite the distance.
Despite all the heartbreak Lingling buried silently inside herself-
some people still stayed.
Still chose her.
Still loved her enough to keep a place for her in their lives.
Junji continued talking excitedly afterward about venues and flowers and wedding colors while Lingling listened quietly with a soft smile resting on her lips.
Then finally-
Junji paused before saying softly:
"You have to come home, Ling."
Home.
The word felt strange now.
Unfamiliar somehow.
Because after four years-
Thailand almost stopped feeling real to Lingling.
Like a past life carefully folded away inside old boxes she never opened anymore.
Bangkok no longer existed in her daily routine.
No humid mornings.
No traffic-filled highways.
No coffee shops she memorized too well.
No Orm.
Lingling looked outside her window silently.
Rain slid softly against the glass while Paris lights blurred beautifully below.
And suddenly-
for the first time in years-
fear crept quietly back into her chest.
Then she looked back at Junji and smiled gently.
"When's the wedding?"
Junji gasped loudly.
"WAIT. DOES THAT MEAN YES?"
Lingling laughed softly again.
"I can't exactly miss my best friend's wedding."
Junji nearly burst into tears immediately.
"You better not! I already told everyone my maid of honor is an intimidating hot engineer from Paris."
Lingling rolled her eyes affectionately.
"You're unbelievable."
"No, I'm engaged."
That made Lingling laugh one more time before the call eventually ended.
And then-
the room slowly became quiet again.
Too quiet.
Lingling stared at the dark phone screen in her hands for several long seconds.
The smile slowly faded from her face afterward.
Because now that the excitement settled-
reality returned too.
Going back to Thailand meant going back to memories.
Back to places still carrying pieces of Orm everywhere.
The office building.
The highways outside the cities.
The riverside restaurants.
The cafés.
The rain.
Even silence itself would probably remind her of Orm again.
And suddenly-
Lingling realized something terrifying.
After four years of running-
she still wasn't completely sure whether seeing Orm again would heal her...
or break her all over again.
Very slowly-
Lingling walked toward her desk.
Opened her laptop.
And after several long moments of hesitation-
quietly booked the flight back to Thailand.
-
Three months later-
Lingling finally stepped foot in Thailand again after four long years.
The moment the airplane landed in Bangkok, her chest tightened unexpectedly.
Not sharply.
Not like before.
Not like those first few months in Paris when even hearing Thai songs inside cafés used to leave her staring blankly at walls for hours.
This ache was quieter now.
Softer.
But somehow heavier.
Like grief that had learned how to sit still.
Lingling remained seated long after the plane stopped moving, her fingers resting loosely on her lap while rainwater slowly slid down the airplane window beside her.
Thailand still looked exactly the same.
Gray skies above crowded runways.
Blinking airport lights reflecting against wet concrete.
Flight attendants speaking rapid Thai in the background.
Warm.
Noisy.
Alive.
And God-
she almost forgot how much she missed hearing her own language naturally around her.
For a brief moment, emotion clogged her throat unexpectedly.
Four years.
Four whole years.
Four years since she left Thailand carrying a heart so shattered she thought distance was the only thing that could save her from drowning in it.
Back then, leaving felt necessary.
Because staying meant constantly existing inside memories of Orm.
Every café reminded her of late-night coffee dates.
Every beach reminded her of road trips.
Every stupid little convenience store made her remember Orm dragging her inside at two in the morning because she suddenly wanted snacks.
Orm existed everywhere in Thailand back then.
In sunsets.
In songs.
In silence.
And Lingling had loved her so deeply that even breathing became exhausting near the end.
So she left.
Paris became her escape.
Cold weather.
New people.
A different language.
A different life.
She buried herself in work until exhaustion became routine instead of sadness.
And eventually-
the pain stopped feeling violent.
It became manageable.
Like an old scar you only notice during rainy days.
Lingling slowly stood up after the seatbelt sign disappeared.
Around her, passengers hurried excitedly, grabbing luggage and making phone calls.
But Lingling moved quietly.
Almost carefully.
As if she was afraid Thailand might break her all over again the second she fully returned.
The moment she stepped outside Suvarnabhumi Airport, humid air wrapped around her immediately.
Warm.
Heavy.
Familiar.
So painfully familiar that her chest physically ached.
Paris smelled like rain and old buildings.
Thailand smelled like heat, traffic, street food, and memories.
Lingling closed her eyes for a second.
And suddenly-
she could almost hear Orm laughing beside her again.
Could almost picture Orm complaining dramatically about Bangkok traffic while stealing sips from Lingling's iced coffee.
Could almost feel fingers brushing against hers during quiet car rides neither of them talked about afterward.
It hit her harder than expected.
Not because she was still hopelessly in love.
Maybe she was.
Maybe she wasn't.
Lingling honestly no longer knew how to define what remained between her ribs whenever Orm crossed her mind.
But some people never fully leave you.
No matter how many countries separate you.
No matter how many years pass.
Some loves simply become part of your bloodstream.
And Orm-
Orm had once been the center of Lingling's entire universe.
A taxi horn snapped her out of her thoughts.
Lingling exhaled slowly before adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
For one terrifying second, she genuinely felt like time folded backward.
Like she was no longer thirty years old returning from Paris.
But the younger version of herself again.
Still secretly in love.
Still lingering beside Orm during late-night drives.
Still memorizing every expression on her face.
Still holding back confessions that should have been said years earlier.
Still hoping.
Her chest tightened again at the thought.
Then her phone suddenly buzzed loudly in her hand.
Lingling blinked before looking down.
And immediately-
Junji's dramatic message filled the screen.
"IF YOU DON'T ARRIVE IN PHUKET LOOKING HOT I'M CANCELING THE WEDDING."
Another message followed immediately after.
"THIS IS MY SPECIAL DAY. DON'T EMBARRASS ME BY LOOKING EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE."
Lingling stared at the screen for two seconds before laughing softly right there outside the airport.
A real laugh.
Small.
Quiet.
But real.
Typical Junji.
Four years apart and somehow nothing about her friends had changed.
Junji was still dramatic.
Still chaotic.
Still capable of making Lingling laugh at the worst possible moments.
The heaviness inside her chest eased slightly.
Just slightly.
Enough for her to breathe easier.
Enough to stop feeling like she was about to fall apart in the middle of the airport.
Lingling shook her head fondly before typing a short reply.
"Too late. I've always looked emotionally unavailable."
Junji replied instantly.
"Bitch please. You looked heartbroken for like five years."
Lingling's smile faltered.
Just a little.
Because the terrifying part was-
Junji wasn't entirely wrong.
Lingling stared at the message longer than necessary.
Heartbroken.
Was she still?
She honestly didn't know anymore.
Maybe heartbreak changed form over time.
Maybe it never truly disappeared.
Maybe you simply grow around it until it no longer destroys you the same way.
Lingling slipped her phone back into her pocket before looking up at the cloudy Bangkok sky.
Four years ago, returning to Thailand would have terrified her.
Now-
it simply hurt quietly.
And somehow that felt even sadder.
Because pain this gentle meant she had already learned how to live with it.