Chapter 21
Night eventually fell over Phuket with unbearable slowness.
The sky deepened into shades of navy and black while the ocean swallowed the last traces of sunset whole. Far away, scattered lights from beach bars flickered softly against the shoreline, and distant music drifted faintly through the wind like echoes from another life.
But around the villa—
everything felt quiet.
Too quiet.
By the time Lingling returned from the beach, most of the lights inside had already dimmed. The others were probably asleep or resting somewhere deeper inside the house, exhausted from the long day.
But Lingling couldn’t sleep.
Not tonight.
She sat alone outside the villa facing the ocean, wrapped in the cold silence of midnight. The salty breeze brushed softly against her skin while moonlight shimmered across the endless dark waves before her.
Inside her palm rested one of the tiny shell bottles from earlier.
Small.
Fragile.
Beautiful.
Just like memories.
Her thumb slowly traced the smooth glass while her thoughts drifted somewhere she had spent years trying to escape.
Backward.
Far backward.
Toward a night she still carried inside her like an old wound that never truly healed.
Orm’s apartment.
Four years ago.
The night everything ended—
even though nothing between them had ever truly begun.
Lingling closed her eyes slowly.
And suddenly she could remember everything too clearly.
The sound of Orm crying.
The trembling in her voice.
The way Orm held onto her that night like she was terrified to let go.
And then those words.
Those devastating words.
“I love you.”
Lingling felt her chest tighten instantly even just remembering it.
Because after all those years—
after every almost-confession, every stolen glance, every moment that lingered too long—
Orm finally said the words Lingling had spent years praying to hear.
But it came at the worst possible time.
Too late.
Always too late.
Lingling remembered how her entire body shook while standing there in Orm’s apartment. Remembered how badly she wanted to pull Orm into her arms and selfishly tell her to run away together.
To choose her instead.
Just once.
But Sean existed.
The baby existed.
Reality existed.
And Lingling loved Orm far too much to destroy her life just because her own heart was breaking.
So instead—
she smiled through tears.
And let Orm go.
Again.
The memory alone felt suffocating.
Lingling pressed a trembling hand against her mouth as the ocean waves continued crashing endlessly nearby.
God.
She still remembered driving back to Khon Kaen afterward.
She had cried so hard behind the wheel she could barely see the road properly. Several times she nearly crashed because her vision kept blurring from tears.
And still—
she kept driving.
Because stopping meant feeling everything all at once.
She remembered arriving at her apartment completely shattered.
Junji had opened the door only to freeze in horror after seeing her face.
Lingling remembered collapsing into Junji’s arms without even saying a single word first.
Just crying.
Crying so hard her entire body hurt.
Junji and Fluke held her through the entire night while Lingling broke apart piece by piece inside that tiny apartment.
And the worst part?
The absolute worst part?
A few months later—
She still find herself attended Orm’s wedding.
She could still remember every painful detail of that day.
Orm looked beautiful.
Radiant.
Happy in the way Lingling had always wanted her to be.
And Lingling sat there silently among the guests with Junji and Fluke mourning a future she was never meant to have.
No one noticed how tightly she clenched her hands beneath the table.
No one noticed how many times she quietly excused herself just to cry ugly and openly inside the restroom.
No one noticed how her heart slowly died watching the woman she loved marry someone else.
Or maybe they did.
Maybe Junji and Fluke did.
Because they never left her side that entire day.
Not once.
The waves crashed harder against the shore below, violent enough to shake the silence around her.
Lingling inhaled shakily, but the air still felt too heavy in her lungs.
Then came the memory she hated most.
The airport.
The goodbye.
France.
She still remembered sitting alone on the plane with her forehead pressed weakly against the window while Thailand slowly disappeared beneath thick clouds.
The city lights fading.
The ocean growing smaller.
Everything she loved vanishing little by little until there was nothing left to see.
And somehow, that hurt even more.
Because it felt final.
Not like she was leaving a country.
Not like she was simply boarding a flight.
It felt like she was abandoning an entire lifetime.
A version of herself that only existed beside Orm.
The woman who laughed louder around her.
The woman who believed love alone could keep someone alive.
The woman who looked at Orm and secretly imagined forever even when she knew she had no right to.
By the time the plane landed in Paris, Lingling already felt empty.
Completely empty.
Like someone had reached inside her chest and carefully removed every living piece of her heart, leaving behind nothing except a hollow ache that refused to stop bleeding.
The following weeks became a blur.
Cold mornings.
Sleepless nights.
Half-finished meals.
Unread messages.
Her parents tried speaking to her during dinner, but Lingling barely answered anymore.
Sometimes she only stared blankly at her plate for several minutes before realizing she hadn’t touched her food at all.
Sometimes she woke up at three in the morning gasping for breath after dreaming about Orm’s voice.
Sometimes she would hear a laugh somewhere on the streets of Paris that sounded vaguely similar and her entire body would freeze before reality crashed into her all over again.
Orm wasn’t there.
Orm would never be there.
And that realization destroyed her slowly every single day.
Her mother noticed first.
Mothers always do.
Lingling would never forget that night.
Even now, years later, the memory still hurt too much to fully revisit without feeling her chest tighten painfully.
She remembered sitting in front of the mirror of her childhood bedroom surrounded by unopened luggage despite already being back home for weeks.
The room looked exactly the same as she remembered from years ago.
The same curtains.
The same shelves.
The same framed photographs.
But Lingling no longer felt like the same person who once lived there.
Outside her window, Paris glowed softly beneath the night sky.
Cars moved below.
People laughed somewhere in the distance.
Life continued normally for everyone else.
Meanwhile, Lingling felt like she had stopped existing entirely.
And then—
without warning—
everything she spent years forcing herself to hold together completely shattered.
Lingling broke down so violently she could barely breathe.
One second she was sitting there quietly.
The next, she was sobbing into her hands like her entire body was collapsing from the inside.
Years of silence.
Years of pretending.
Years of loving someone she could never truly have.
All of it finally poured out at once.
The grief was unbearable.
Because it wasn’t only heartbreak.
It was mourning.
Mourning the future she secretly dreamed about.
Mourning the life she almost touched.
Mourning the version of Orm that once looked at her like maybe—just maybe—they could have been something more in another universe.
Her mother rushed into the room immediately after hearing her cries.
“Ling…”
Her voice broke instantly.
She dropped to her knees beside her daughter and pulled Lingling tightly into her arms without hesitation.
And that only made Lingling cry harder.
Again and again her mother whispered softly against her hair.
“What happened to you?”
“What happened, sweetheart?”
“Tell me…”
But Lingling couldn’t answer at first.
She only cried harder until her chest physically hurt.
Until breathing became painful.
Until her tears soaked through her mother’s clothes.
And eventually—
between trembling breaths and shattered words—
Lingling finally told her everything.
Everything she spent years hiding from the world.
How she met Orm.
How Orm slowly became the center of her entire life without her realizing it.
How friendship turned into something far deeper and far more dangerous.
How every accidental touch felt electric.
How every late-night conversation stayed with her for days.
How she memorized Orm’s laugh without even trying.
How she fell in love quietly.
Hopelessly.
Completely.
And how she buried it inside herself because she was too afraid to ruin the beautiful thing they already had.
She told her mother about the almost-confessions.
The lingering stares.
The moments that felt so intimate they nearly resembled love.
The nights she thought Orm felt it too.
Then Sean came.
Sean entering Orm’s life so naturally.
Sean becoming the person who could openly stand beside her in ways Lingling never could.
Lingling told her mother how she stepped aside silently because she thought loving someone also meant letting them choose happiness—even if it destroyed you.
Then came Khon Kaen.
That night they allowed themselves to love each other fully.
Then the confrontation in Orm's apartment after two weeks.
Orm crying against her.
Orm trembling in her arms.
Orm whispering “I love you” so softly it nearly ruined Lingling on the spot.
Because after spending years convincing herself to move on—
Orm finally said the words she had waited her entire life to hear.
But it came too late.
Too painfully late.
Then the baby.
The marriage.
The reality that Orm’s life was already tied to someone else no matter how much love still existed between them.
And finally—
Lingling told her mother about the hardest decision she had ever made.
Leaving Thailand.
Because staying there would have killed her slowly.
Staying meant watching Orm build a life with someone else while pretending she was okay.
And Lingling knew she wouldn’t survive that.
She still remembered the look on her mother’s face afterward.
Not anger.
Not confusion.
Not disappointment.
Only heartbreak.
The heartbreak of a mother watching her daughter drown in a love so deep it nearly consumed her whole.
Her mother cried with her that night while holding her tightly inside that bedroom.
Because Lingling loved someone with her entire soul—
and still lost her anyway.
After that night, things only became worse.
A month passed, but Lingling barely felt alive.
She stopped taking care of herself without even noticing.
Meals became optional.
Sleep became impossible.
Some nights she stayed awake until sunrise staring blankly at the ceiling while memories replayed endlessly in her mind.
Orm smiling at her across crowded rooms.
Orm sleeping beside her during trips.
Orm laughing breathlessly while holding her arm.
Orm saying I love you.
Over and over again.
Until the memories became unbearable.
Even her father started growing deeply worried.
Lingling was getting thinner every week.
The bright, composed daughter they once knew was disappearing in front of them little by little.
And one night—
her body finally gave up.
Lingling collapsed.
Everything afterward became fragmented sounds and blurry lights.
Her mother crying.
Her father calling for help.
Hospital hallways.
Cold hands.
Machines beeping softly nearby.
When she woke up, the doctor explained gently that she was severely dehydrated, exhausted, and lacking proper nutrients and vitamins.
But the truth was much worse than that.
Lingling wasn’t sick physically.
She was heartbroken beyond what her body could carry anymore.
After that incident, her parents became terrified of losing her completely.
Because even after leaving the hospital, Lingling still wasn’t herself.
She moved through life like a ghost.
Quiet.
Detached.
Empty.
So eventually, her parents made the difficult decision to bring her to therapy.
At first, Lingling refused immediately.
She insisted she was fine.
That she didn’t need help.
That time alone would fix her.
But one night her mother sat beside her bed, held her trembling hands, and begged softly:
“Please help yourself live again.”
And hearing her mother cry because of her finally broke something inside Lingling.
So she agreed.
Twice a week.
Every week.
The sessions were difficult at first.
Some days Lingling sat there in complete silence.
Some days she cried so hard she couldn’t continue speaking.
Some days simply hearing Orm’s name out loud felt like reopening a wound that never properly healed.
But slowly—
very slowly—
the unbearable pain stopped consuming every second of her existence.
After three months, Lingling started finding tiny pieces of herself again.
Not fully.
Never fully.
But enough to survive.
Enough to wake up without immediately breaking down.
Enough to eat properly again.
Enough to smile occasionally without forcing it.
Eventually, she accepted an offer from one of the most prestigious engineering companies in Paris.
Work became both an escape and a lifeline.
She buried herself in long projects, impossible deadlines, and sleepless nights inside conference rooms because staying busy hurt less than remembering.
Still, she continued attending therapy.
For two whole years.
Two years of slowly teaching herself how to exist with a grief that never truly disappeared.
Because some heartbreaks don’t leave.
They simply become quieter.
The memory made Lingling’s chest ache violently even now.
Back in Phuket, the ocean continued moving endlessly beneath the moonlight as if time itself never stopped for heartbreak.
Lingling lowered her gaze toward the tiny shell bottle still resting inside her hand.
Then finally—
after years of trying to move on…
years of pretending she healed…
years of convincing herself that Orm had become nothing more than an old memory—
Lingling realized that even after all this time—
Orm was still the saddest thing that had ever happened to her.
And somehow—
still the most beautiful too.
—
The next morning, Lingling woke up feeling strangely lighter.
For the first time in weeks, the pain in her chest did not attack her the second she opened her eyes.
It came slower this time.
Quieter.
More patient.
The soft sound of waves crashing outside her villa drifted through the open balcony doors as sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin golden lines, painting warmth across the white sheets tangled around her body. The ocean breeze carried the faint scent of salt and rain, cool against her skin.
Lingling stayed still for a long while, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Listening.
Breathing.
Trying not to think.
Maybe Phuket was finally doing its job.
Maybe distance truly could numb a person little by little.
Maybe silence could eventually drown memories.
Maybe loneliness could teach the heart how to survive without constantly bleeding.
Maybe.
Slowly, she sat up and rubbed her tired face before reaching for her phone on the bedside table.
The first thing she did was call her family back in Paris.
Her mother answered almost immediately.
“Lingling!”
The warmth in her mother’s voice made something inside her soften.
A small smile finally appeared on her lips.
They talked about ordinary things.
Simple things.
Her father eventually joined the call just to complain dramatically about the terrible Paris weather, saying the rain was ruining his morning coffee routine.
Her younger brother kept asking if she could bring home souvenirs from Thailand, specifically snacks and expensive shirts he absolutely did not need.
Lingling laughed softly.
Quiet, but real.
And for a few fleeting minutes, she almost felt normal again.
Almost.
But after the call ended, reality returned the same way it always did.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
Silently.
The villa suddenly felt too quiet again.
Too big.
Too empty.
Lingling exhaled deeply before opening her laptop and burying herself in work.
Engineering plans.
Structural revisions.
Approval sheets.
Site evaluations.
Numbers were easier than emotions.
Concrete calculations were safer than memories.
Steel beams made more sense than heartbreak.
For nearly two hours, Lingling focused entirely on reviewing one of the project proposals assigned to her engineering team. She checked measurements carefully, corrected structural load computations, signed digital documents, and emailed revisions back to the site supervisor.
Professional.
Efficient.
Cold.
Exactly how she preferred herself these days.
Because if she stopped working—
if she gave herself even one quiet second—
her mind always wandered back to Orm.
And once it did, there was no escaping it anymore.
Her phone suddenly dinged beside her laptop.
A notification from their group chat.
The group name still read:
“Chaotic Rich People.”
Junji changed it years ago after one drunken yacht party in Singapore.
Lingling clicked the chat and immediately got flooded with unread messages.
Junji had sent dozens of photos from Italy.
One showed her and Mario smiling beside a lake somewhere in Venice while holding wine glasses dramatically like they owned Europe itself.
Another picture showed Mario carrying at least ten shopping bags while looking seconds away from filing for divorce.
Fluke sent a sweaty selfie from an architectural site inspection, wearing a yellow hard hat while aggressively complaining about the heat.
Junji:
Enjoy Phuket, Ling!!!
Fluke:
And stop working during vacation, psychopath.
Junji:
Find a hot beach girlfriend.
Fluke:
Or a beach wife.
A faint smile tugged at Lingling’s lips.
Lingling:
Both of you are annoying ????
Junji:
ALIVE!!!
Fluke:
SHE SMILED EVERYONE CHEER!!!
Lingling shook her head softly before locking her phone again.
They were trying.
Trying so hard to keep her afloat after everything that happened.
Trying to pull her back toward life little by little.
And God—
she appreciated them more than words could ever explain.
Around noon, Lingling finally decided to go outside.
She took a long bath, letting cold water run endlessly down her skin while she stared blankly at the tiled wall.
After getting dressed, Lingling kept things simple.
A a white sweater loosely tucked into denim jeans.
White shoes.
Clear shades.
A blue bandana pushing her hair away from her face.
Effortlessly attractive without even trying.
The kind of beauty exhausted people carried unknowingly.
Beautiful in a way that felt distant.
Untouchable.
Like someone who looked complete on the outside while quietly falling apart underneath.
She drove toward a quieter side of Phuket this time, avoiding crowded beaches and tourist-heavy streets. She did not want noise today.
Eventually, she found a small seafood restaurant tucked near the shore.
Peaceful.
Hidden.
Far from the chaos.
The ocean stretched endlessly behind it.
Blue.
Calm.
Lonely.
Lingling chose a seat near the open window where the salty breeze could reach her skin.
She ordered quietly.
Grilled prawns.
Rice.
Soup.
Fresh mango shake.
Simple food.
Comfort food.
The kind Orm would have stolen from her plate while claiming hers tasted better.
Lingling’s fingers tightened slightly around the menu before she slowly set it down.
Even food reminded her of Orm.
God.
This was getting unbearable.
But even in quiet places, Lingling still attracted attention without trying.
A pair of women sitting nearby kept glancing toward her while whispering excitedly to each other.
Another woman shamelessly waved from another table.
“You’re so beautifully handsome!”
Lingling looked over politely before giving them a small smile.
“Thank you.”
That only made them squeal louder.
Normally, Junji and Fluke would have laughed themselves to death witnessing this.
Fluke would immediately lean toward her dramatically and complain:
“Can you stop collecting women everywhere you go? Leave some for me.”
And Lingling would laugh before shoving his forehead away.
“I only want one.”
Then Junji would grin knowingly before adding:
“Too bad she never realized you liked her first.”
Her chest tightened so painfully that Lingling almost lost her breath.
The smile disappeared from her lips immediately.
She lowered her gaze back to her food.
The memories were becoming crueler lately.
They appeared everywhere now.
In songs.
In beaches.
In coffee cups.
In sunsets.
In silence.
Even breathing somehow reminded her of Orm.
Lingling was halfway through eating when a waiter suddenly approached her table carrying a small plated dessert.
A slice of chocolate banana cake.
Her entire body froze.
The world around her blurred instantly.
Because she knew that cake.
God.
She knew that cake.
The exact same cake Orm baked for her birthday before everything fell apart.
Before the distance.
Before heartbreak ripped through both of them so violently that neither of them knew how to recover anymore.
Lingling stared at the dessert quietly while something painful crawled up her throat.
The waiter smiled politely.
“Complimentary from the owner, ma’am.”
Lingling swallowed hard.
Her fingers tightened around the spoon.
For one horrible second, she genuinely thought she might break down crying right there inside the restaurant.
Because suddenly she could remember everything too clearly—
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the counter.
There, she found a beautiful woman smiling brightly at her.
The woman winked playfully before gesturing toward the cake as if telling her to eat already.
Lingling blinked in confusion.
Her brows furrowed slightly before looking back at the dessert.
A moment later, the woman walked confidently toward her table and sat across from her without hesitation.
“Hey,” she greeted casually.
Lingling slowly removed her shades.
The woman laughed softly.
“What? Is my beauty not memorable enough?”
Lingling looked even more confused.
“Sorry, miss,” she said politely. “I don’t remember meeting you.”
The woman gasped dramatically before placing a hand over her chest.
“Ouch. That hurts.”
Lingling stared awkwardly.
“We were together on the island hopping tour yesterday,” the woman explained. “You literally saved me from getting stung by a jellyfish.”
Recognition finally flickered across Lingling’s face.
Yesterday.
The loud woman screaming near the water.
Right.
“You’re that girl?”
“That girl?” the woman repeated in disbelief before bursting into laughter. “Wow. I risked my life and that’s all I get?”
A tiny smile escaped Lingling before she could stop it.
The woman noticed immediately.
And somehow, her teasing softened after seeing it.
Because underneath Lingling’s calm appearance was something heartbreakingly heavy.
The kind of sadness people carried after losing someone they truly believed was their forever.
The woman extended her hand across the table.
“I’m Jingjing Yu.”
Lingling shook it politely.
“Lingling Kwong.”
Jingjing’s brows lifted slightly.
“Well, damn. Even your name sounds attractive. And our names are kinda rhyming.”
Lingling chuckled softly under her breath.
Jingjing
Lingling
And for the first time in weeks, the sound did not feel forced.
The two ended up talking while Lingling finished her meal.
Mostly random things.
Travel.
Business.
Phuket.
Food.
Jingjing talked easily and confidently, like someone who had never learned how to fear silence.
Meanwhile, Lingling mostly listened.
But surprisingly—
she didn’t mind.
Jingjing eventually revealed that she owned the restaurant along with several bars around Phuket.
Lingling nodded politely, impressed but unsurprised.
The woman carried herself like someone used to getting whatever she wanted.
Someone bright.
Fearless.
Alive.
Still, despite Jingjing’s beauty, charm, and obvious interest—
Lingling’s heart remained painfully distant and guarded.
An hour later, Lingling finally stood from her seat.
“I should go, Ms. Yu. Thank you for the dessert,” she said politely.
Jingjing looked disappointed for a brief second before smiling again.
“Oh, that fast? Okay then, at least let me get your number.”
Lingling hesitated.
Just briefly.
But eventually, she gave in.
They exchanged contacts.
“See you around, Engineer Lingling Kwong,” Jingjing said teasingly and blew a playful kiss at her.
Lingling only nodded faintly before walking away from the restaurant.
The ocean breeze greeted her again the moment she stepped outside.
Warm.
Gentle.
Lonely.
She reached inside her pocket for her car keys—
then suddenly froze.
Because for one terrifying second, her mind instinctively whispered:
I should buy some cake for Orm before going home.
The realization hit her so hard she nearly stopped breathing.
Her chest caved in instantly.
Home.
There was no home anymore.
And Orm—
Orm was no longer waiting for her there.