Chapter 8 - The Soft Side of Ling #3
She remembered the way she had crouched down to meet a child at eye level.
She remembered the pinky promise.
She remembered the dog resting against her.
And, against her better judgment, she smiled.
Bow noticed.
"You're thinking about her."
Orm immediately looked over.
"No."
"You are."
"I'm thinking about the project."
"Right."
"I am."
Bow smiled.
"I didn't say anything."
Orm sighed.
"Why does everyone keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Looking at me like they know something."
Bow put her phone away.
"Maybe because you're becoming predictable."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Orm crossed her arms.
Bow smiled.
"You're falling for her."
Orm's heart stopped.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Bow didn't laugh.
She simply looked at her.
Orm turned toward the window.
"I'm not."
"Okay."
"I'm not."
"I heard you."
"I still kind of hate her."
Bow smiled.
"Okay."
Orm frowned.
"Why don't you believe me?"
"Because you don't sound like someone who hates her."
Orm looked away.
She had no answer.
?
That evening, after everyone returned to Veyra, Orm stayed behind to finish editing the photographs.
The office was quiet.
Most people had already gone home.
The lights were dimmed throughout the creative department, leaving only the glow of Orm's monitor.
She opened the photographs one by one.
Children laughing.
Paint-covered hands.
The courtyard.
The dog.
Then she found it.
A photograph she hadn't realised she had taken.
Ling was sitting beneath one of the trees, surrounded by children.
She was laughing.
Not looking at the camera.
Not performing.
Not aware that anyone was watching.
It was the most beautiful photograph Orm had ever taken of her.
Orm stared at it for a long time.
She didn't know why her eyes suddenly felt hot.
Perhaps because the photograph captured something she had never understood about Ling.
Perhaps because she had spent so much time thinking of Ling as difficult, cold and arrogant that she had forgotten there had to be a person underneath all that control.
Or perhaps because she was beginning to understand that she didn't just want to see that person.
She wanted to be someone Ling trusted enough to show her to.
Orm leaned back in her chair.
"This is bad."
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Ling.
LING: Did you get home?
Orm stared at it.
She typed.
ORM: Still at the office.
A reply came almost immediately.
LING: Why?
ORM: Finishing the photographs.
LING: Don't stay too late.
Orm smiled.
ORM: You're not my mother.
The response came.
LING: I'm your boss.
Orm laughed quietly.
ORM: Worse.
There was a pause.
Then:
LING: Go home, Orm.
Orm looked at the photograph on her screen.
She typed:
ORM: Goodnight, Ling.
Three dots appeared.
LING: Goodnight.
Orm put the phone down.
She looked at the photograph again.
And finally admitted something she had been trying not to think about.
She was falling.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
There was no grand moment when the world stopped and suddenly everything made sense.
It was happening in tiny pieces.
In the way she looked for Ling when she entered a room.
In the way Ling's praise mattered more than it should.
In the way she remembered every little thing Ling said.
In the way she had started noticing when Ling was tired, when she was stressed, when she was pretending to be fine.
It was happening in the way her chest warmed whenever Ling smiled at her.
In the way she wanted to know what made her laugh.
What made her happy.
What made her feel safe.
It was happening quietly.
Terrifyingly.
And perhaps the most frightening part was that Orm didn't want it to stop.
?
The next morning, Ling walked into the office carrying two coffees.
She placed one beside Orm's laptop.
Orm looked up.
"For me?"
Ling nodded.
"You looked tired yesterday."
Orm stared at the cup.
Then at Ling.
"How did you know what I like?"
Ling looked almost amused.
"I pay attention."
Orm's heart stumbled.
She looked down quickly.
"Thanks."
Ling nodded and walked away.
Orm watched her go.
Bow appeared beside her.
"You're smiling."
Orm immediately covered her mouth.
"I am not."
"You are."
Orm looked toward Ling's retreating figure.
Then at the coffee.
Then back at Bow.
"Don't say anything."
Bow smiled.
"I wasn't going to."
"Good."
Bow walked away.
Orm picked up the coffee.
It was exactly how she liked it.
She took a sip.
And there it was again.
That ridiculous warmth.
That stupid smile.
That feeling she had been trying so hard to ignore.
She looked toward Ling's office.
The door was open.
Ling was already working.
Focused.
Serious.
Composed.
The intimidating Executive Director had returned.
But Orm knew better now.
She had seen what existed behind that expression.
And once you had seen someone's softness, it was impossible to look at them the same way again.
Orm lowered her eyes to the coffee in her hands.
She smiled.
Quietly.
Terrified of what was happening.
And already, hopelessly, beginning to fall.