Chapter 38 #2
That sacrificing her own happiness would somehow protect everyone.
She thought love could be buried beneath responsibility.
She thought time would eventually erase what she felt.
Instead...
Time only taught her how to suffer quietly.
She remembered returning to Bangkok after everything fell apart.
Her mother had opened the front door.
Taken one look at her daughter's empty eyes...
And burst into tears.
Not because Orm said anything.
But because mothers always know.
She knew her daughter had come home...
Without her soul.
"I lost her..."
Orm whispered during therapy.
Her tears flowed endlessly.
"I lost the only person who ever truly felt like home."
She buried her face into her trembling hands.
"If I could go back..."
Her breathing broke.
"If I could return to the day we first met..."
"I would've chosen her."
"Every single time."
"I would've fought harder."
"I would've held onto her."
"I would've told the whole world that I loved her."
Her voice collapsed into sobs.
"Maybe..."
She smiled bitterly through her tears.
"...maybe today we'd already be married."
"Maybe we'd be arguing over what to cook for breakfast."
"Maybe we'd be planning vacations."
"Maybe she'd still look at me the way she used to."
"Maybe we'd have a family together."
Another silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Merciless.
Full of every future that would never happen.
Instead...
They were here.
Separated by memories.
Separated by regret.
Separated by choices she could never undo.
Orm wiped her tears, but they refused to stop falling.
"I was so afraid of making the wrong decision..."
She laughed weakly.
"...that I ended up making the worst one."
"And now..."
Her voice became almost inaudible.
"I have to spend every day loving the woman who no longer remembers loving me."
The room fell silent.
Only the sound of Orm's quiet crying remained.
And somewhere beyond the therapy room...
Beyond the walls...
Beyond all the heartbreak that time had cruelly written for them...
She continued to wait.
Just as she always had.
Holding onto hope with bleeding hands.
Praying that one day...
Somehow...
Somewhere...
Lingling's heart would find its way back home.
Even if Orm had to spend the rest of her life waiting for it.
-
Three months had passed since Orm left for Paris.
Three long months of living a life where she existed only in the shadows.
She had crossed continents not to reunite with the woman she loved, but to watch over her from a distance... without ever being allowed to call her name.
It was a cruel kind of love.
Lingling was close enough that Orm could hear the familiar cadence of her laughter drifting from a nearby café, close enough to recognize the gentle sway of her ponytail whenever the wind swept through the streets of Paris.
Yet she was also impossibly far away.
An entire lifetime separated them.
Every single morning, Orm would wake before sunrise and stare at the calendar hanging beside her bed.
She no longer crossed out the dates.
She counted them.
Every hour.
Every minute.
Every second.
Ninety-three days.
Two thousand two hundred thirty-two hours.
One hundred thirty-three thousand nine hundred twenty minutes.
Every passing second was another second she wasn't allowed to hold Lingling's hand.
Another second she wasn't allowed to apologize.
Another second she wasn't allowed to whisper,
"I never stopped loving you."
Instead...
She watched.
Silently.
Patiently.
Lovingly.
Painfully.
Back home, her parents called every week without fail.
Their voices always carried the same practiced brightness-the kind people used when they were trying not to cry.
"Have you been eating properly?"
"Don't forget to sleep."
"The weather there must be colder."
Ordinary questions.
Ordinary conversations.
Yet every call left Orm with an ache she couldn't describe.
They always ended by giving her updates about Liam.
Her little boy.
Her precious child.
"He finally learned to say another word."
"He refuses to sleep unless he's hugging your old pillow."
"He cried yesterday because he saw another little boy calling for his mommy."
Every update felt like another knife slowly sinking into her heart.
Sometimes her parents would initiate a video call.
The moment Liam's tiny face appeared on the screen, Orm had to bite the inside of her cheek just to stop herself from sobbing.
Her baby had grown.
His cheeks were fuller.
His hair had become longer.
He smiled exactly the same.
He laughed exactly the same.
But every time he looked at the screen...
He searched behind it.
As though he couldn't understand why his mother lived inside a phone.
"Mama..."
His tiny voice always shattered whatever strength Orm had left.
"I miss you."
Orm would smile.
Always smile.
Even as tears blurred her vision.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart..."
"I'm so, so sorry..."
She apologized every single call.
For missing his growth.
For not kissing him goodnight.
For not carrying him when he cried.
For choosing a love that demanded she disappear.
The moment the call ended...
She would collapse onto the floor of her apartment, clutching her phone against her chest as silent sobs tore through her body.
There were nights when she cried so hard she couldn't breathe.
There were mornings when she woke with swollen eyes and wondered whether Liam would one day hate her for leaving.
Perhaps...
He should.
-
One crisp morning, just as the first rays of sunlight painted the Parisian skyline in shades of gold, Orm noticed a familiar figure stepping out of the house across the street.
Lingling.
She was dressed in gray joggers and a fitted sports bra beneath a lightweight black running jacket.
Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
She looked...
Alive.
Healthy.
Strong.
Nothing like the woman Orm had watched crumble months ago.
For a brief moment...
Orm smiled.
Then reality settled heavily in her chest.
That smile...
It no longer belonged to her.
Quietly, Orm stood.
She slipped into the disguise that had become part of her daily routine.
Black sweatpants.
Oversized jacket.
A baseball cap pulled low.
A face mask.
Dark sunglasses.
The perfect stranger.
She stayed several meters behind Lingling as the morning run began.
Never too close.
Never too far.
Always within sight.
Always invisible.
Lingling ran with quiet confidence.
Every stride carried determination.
Every breath spoke of healing.
She no longer looked like someone surviving heartbreak.
She looked like someone learning to live again.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
Men slowed their pace just to watch her pass.
Women openly admired her.
Some smiled.
Others whispered to one another.
A few even turned their heads to steal another glance.
Orm saw every single one of them.
Every lingering stare.
Every admiring smile.
Every pair of eyes that dared to look at Lingling the way she once had.
Something ugly twisted inside her chest.
Possessiveness.
Jealousy.
Fear.
Her hands curled into fists so tightly that her nails dug crescents into her skin.
She wanted to run toward them.
To stand between Lingling and the rest of the world.
To scream until her voice broke.
"Stop looking at her."
"She's not yours."
"She's my home."
"She's my greatest love."
"She's... mine."
But she couldn't.
She had surrendered that right the day she chose to walk away.
So she remained exactly where she belonged.
In the shadows.
Watching.
Protecting.
Loving.
Without ever being loved back.
-
The weeks quietly turned into months.
Little by little...
Lingling found herself again.
She returned to the version of herself that heartbreak had stolen.
She wandered through charming cafés tucked between narrow Parisian streets, where the scent of fresh coffee mixed with soft laughter.
She spent entire afternoons inside museums, standing before paintings that seemed to understand grief better than words ever could.
She visited libraries where stories of impossible love rested quietly upon dusty shelves.
Sometimes she sat by the Seine for hours, simply watching the river flow beneath the bridges.
Orm followed every step.
Always several paces behind.
Sometimes hidden behind newspaper stands.
Sometimes seated at another table.
Sometimes pretending to read a book she never actually opened.
Lingling never noticed.
How could she?
Ghosts weren't meant to be seen.
Then...
There were the women.
Beautiful women.
Confident women.
Women brave enough to smile first.
Some complimented Lingling's accent.
Some asked for directions they clearly didn't need.
Others boldly invited her for coffee.
Orm witnessed every encounter.
Every smile Lingling politely returned.
Every conversation.
Every laugh.
Each one felt like another piece of her heart being ripped away.
More than once...
Orm quietly paid café staff to interrupt conversations.
She bribed strangers to accidentally spill drinks.
She intimidated men whose intentions felt wrong.
She discreetly scared away anyone who lingered too long.
If bribery failed...
Threats followed.
If threats failed...
She watched from afar, silently praying Lingling would walk away on her own.
The irony was almost unbearable.
She was protecting Lingling...
From everyone.
Except the one person who had broken her the most.
Herself.
-
There were nights when Orm sat alone beside the Seine after Lingling returned home.
She stared at the reflection dancing across the water until dawn.
Sometimes she whispered apologies to the empty river.
Sometimes she imagined Lingling sitting beside her.
Sometimes...
She spoke aloud as if Lingling could somehow hear her.
"I miss you."
"I saw you smile today."
"You looked beautiful."
"I'm glad you're eating again."
"I'm glad you're sleeping."
"I'm glad you're healing..."
Her voice always broke at the end.
"...even if you're healing without me."