Chapter 37 #5
The way sunlight rested upon her skin, making her seem almost unreal.
Like an angel.
Like a dream heaven had allowed her to witness...
But forbidden her from holding.
Orm had memorized every part of this woman years ago.
Every smile.
Every laugh.
Every sleepy morning face.
Every tiny habit.
Every heartbeat.
Yet somehow...
Seeing her again felt like falling in love for the very first time.
Only this time...
It hurt.
God...
It hurt so much.
Because Lingling was alive.
She was right there.
Only a few dozen steps away.
Close enough for Orm to see the rise and fall of her chest.
Close enough to notice when the breeze lifted her hair.
Close enough to imagine the warmth of her embrace.
Yet farther away than she had ever been.
The woman Orm loved...
No longer remembered what loving is.
Something inside Orm finally broke.
A broken sob escaped her lips.
Then another.
Then another.
Until she could no longer stop crying.
She covered her mouth with trembling fingers, terrified that Lingling might hear.
"I miss you..."
she whispered between ragged breaths.
"So much..."
"I miss you every single day."
Her forehead slowly rested against the cold glass.
It stole the warmth from her skin.
Much like fate had stolen the warmth from her life.
"I would give everything..."
Her shoulders shook violently.
"...just to hear you say my name again."
Across the yard...
Lingling remained completely unaware.
She simply continued crocheting peacefully beneath the afternoon sun.
Oblivious...
To the woman whose heart was breaking only meters away.
Beside Orm, Lingling's mother quietly wiped away her own tears.
"She's healing, Orm," she whispered.
"It has been painfully slow... some days she smiles... some days she doesn't speak at all."
Her voice cracked.
"But little by little..."
"...our Ling is finding her way back."
She looked toward her daughter with immeasurable love.
"We have to believe she'll come back to us..."
Then she looked gently at Orm.
"...to you."
Orm never looked away from Lingling.
Her eyes remained fixed on the woman she had loved through every season of her life.
Through joy.
Through heartbreak.
Through mistakes.
Through separation.
Through unbearable regret.
The sunlight wrapped around Lingling so gently that she looked as though she were slowly stitching herself back together-not just with yarn and crochet, but with courage, with healing, with quiet resilience.
And Orm realized something.
Perhaps healing wasn't loud.
Perhaps it wasn't dramatic.
Perhaps healing looked exactly like this.
One stitch.
One breath.
One day at a time.
Orm swallowed painfully.
Her throat burned from holding back too many cries.
When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse.
Fragile.
Yet filled with unwavering conviction.
"I'll wait."
The words barely left her lips.
Yet they carried the weight of a lifetime.
"I'll wait..."
She smiled through tears that refused to stop falling.
"No matter how many months..."
"No matter how many years..."
"I'll wait for her."
She turned toward Lingling's mother, bowing her head with quiet gratitude.
"Mom..."
Her voice broke again.
"Thank you."
"Thank you for allowing me this moment."
"You have no idea..."
"...how much this means to me."
Fresh tears streamed endlessly down her face.
She pressed her palm against the window one last time.
"Just one look..."
Her voice trembled violently.
"Just seeing her this close..."
"It keeps me alive."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"It keeps my sanity intact."
A heartbreaking smile touched her lips.
"Even if she never notices me..."
"Even if I have to love her from this side of the window for the rest of my life..."
She looked back at Lingling once more.
"...it's enough."
"Because she's here."
"She's breathing."
"She's beginning to smile again."
"And for now..."
"...that is enough."
Lingling's mother gently rested a trembling hand on Orm's shoulder.
Neither of them spoke after that.
Words had long since become too small for the grief they carried.
So they stood together in silence.
Outside, the wind carried the soft rustle of leaves across the garden.
The afternoon sun continued to shine over the balcony where Lingling quietly crocheted, unaware that every movement of her hands was keeping another heart from completely falling apart.
And in the sacred stillness of that quiet afternoon, Orm made herself one final promise.
She would wait.
Not because waiting was easy.
But because love like hers was never measured by convenience.
It was measured by endurance.
By sacrifice.
By choosing someone every single day, even when they no longer had the ability to choose you back.
Lingling deserved that.
She deserved every ounce of patience Orm had failed to give years ago.
She deserved every act of devotion.
Every prayer.
Every second.
Every tear.
Every heartbeat.
And if waiting was the only way Orm could love her now...
Then she would wait.
For as long as it took.
For the rest of her life, if she had to.