Chapter 37 #4
And smaller...
Until they disappeared completely.
She tightened her grip around Lingling's necklace.
The silver pendant rested against the frantic beating of her heart.
Her lips trembled as one final whisper escaped into the darkness.
"Maybe it will be enough."
She closed her eyes.
A tear slid silently down her cheek.
"Maybe just seeing her..."
"...will be enough to stop my heart from shattering completely."
But deep down, she knew.
No amount of seeing, no proximity, could heal the gaping void Lingling's absence had left.
Tomorrow, she would face her greatest heartbreak all over again, and she wasn't sure she could survive it.
But she had no choice.
Because loving Lingling, even when it was one-sided for now, even when it was hopeless, was the only thing keeping her alive.
-
When Orm arrived in Paris, she quietly settled into the small house standing right beside the Kwong residence-a house close enough that she could see the home where the love of her life lived, yet still separated by an invisible distance that felt greater than any ocean.
So close...
Yet still impossibly far.
Every corner of the unfamiliar house reminded her why she had come.
Not for herself.
Not for closure.
Not even for forgiveness.
She came because Lingling was here.
The moment she stepped inside, Lingling's mother welcomed her with trembling arms.
The older woman embraced her tightly, holding her as though she feared Orm might shatter into pieces if she let go.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, her voice already cracking.
Orm slowly wrapped her own arms around her, but she could barely return the embrace. Her entire body was shaking.
Lingling's mother gently cupped her face, brushing away tears that hadn't even fully fallen yet.
"We'll let you watch from the window," she murmured softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's... the best we can do right now."
For several seconds...
Orm couldn't answer.
She simply stared at the woman before her.
Those words...
They were both a blessing...
...and a punishment.
She wanted to run across the yard.
She wanted to throw herself into Lingling's arms.
She wanted to hear her laugh.
To hear her complain whenever Orm stole food from her plate.
To hear her call her "Ormy" again.
To hear anything.
Anything at all.
But all she was being given...
...was permission to look.
Only to look.
Nothing more.
Orm bit down so hard on her trembling lip that she tasted blood.
She nodded.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"It isn't enough..." she whispered to herself.
It never would be.
But for Lingling...
She would accept every tiny fragment fate was willing to give her.
Even if it meant standing behind a window.
Even if it meant loving her from afar.
Even if it meant becoming a stranger to the woman who had once memorized every inch of her soul.
Because seeing Lingling...
Even just once...
Was infinitely better than never seeing her again.
With trembling legs, Orm slowly stood.
Each step toward the large bay window felt impossibly heavy, as though grief itself had wrapped chains around her ankles.
Lingling's mother quietly followed beside her before stopping near the glass.
She gently pointed toward the house across the garden.
"There..."
Orm lifted her eyes.
The afternoon sunlight poured through the enormous window, bathing the room in warm shades of gold.
It should have felt comforting.
Instead...
Everything around her disappeared.
The walls.
The furniture.
The voices.
The world itself faded into nothing.
Because there...
Standing on the second-floor balcony across the yard...
Bathed beneath the soft Parisian sunlight...
Was Lingling.
She sat quietly in a wicker chair with a basket of colorful yarn resting beside her.
A crochet hook moved delicately between her slender fingers.
Loop after loop.
Stitch after stitch.
Slow.
Patient.
Gentle.
As though every thread she wove was trying to stitch together the broken pieces of herself.
Orm forgot how to breathe.
Her lungs refused to work.
Her heartbeat echoed painfully inside her ears until it was all she could hear.
"Ling..."
The name escaped before she even realized she'd spoken.
Barely louder than a breath.
Barely louder than a prayer.
Her vision blurred instantly.
She stumbled closer until her trembling hands rested against the cold glass.
The window stood between them.
Transparent.
Cruel.
She could see Lingling perfectly.
Yet she could never reach her.
She traced Lingling's silhouette through the glass with shaking fingertips.
Not because she believed she could touch her...
But because her heart desperately wanted to remember what it once felt like.
Every tiny detail carved itself into Orm's soul.
The gentle curve of Lingling's neck.
The loose strands of dark hair dancing with the breeze.
The peaceful concentration on her beautiful face whenever she counted her stitches.