Chapter 14 The Things We Dont Say
The afternoon sunlight poured through the enormous windows of Veyra's main conference room, turning the glass walls into sheets of gold.
It should have been beautiful. It should have felt like the perfect ending to months of exhausting work, late nights, impossible deadlines, rewritten concepts, arguments with clients, and countless hours spent trying to make the Aurelia campaign into something worth remembering.
Instead, Orm sat at the long conference table and felt as though she were watching the end of something she had never been prepared to lose.
The room was alive with celebration. Someone had arranged a long table filled with food, flowers, champagne, and small gift boxes bearing the Aurelia logo.
The final campaign photographs were displayed on the large screen at the front of the room, one after another, each image showing the polished version of the story they had sold to the world.
Ling and Orm.
The executive director and the young creator.
Two women who had supposedly fallen into an unexpected romance while becoming the faces of one of Aurelia's most ambitious campaigns.
The public had loved them.
The clients had loved them.
The campaign had succeeded beyond expectations.
And now it was over.
Orm watched another photograph appear on the screen.
It was one of her favorites.
Ling was standing slightly behind her, one hand resting lightly against Orm's waist, while Orm was looking toward the camera with a smile she remembered having difficulty producing that day because Ling had whispered something ridiculous into her ear seconds before the photographer took the picture.
Everyone else saw a campaign image.
Orm saw the memory.
She remembered the warmth of Ling's hand.
The quiet laughter afterward.
The way Ling had looked at her when the cameras stopped.
That was the problem.
Somewhere along the way, the moments that had been manufactured for the campaign had stopped feeling manufactured to her.
The contract had been fake.
The relationship was supposed to be fake.
But the feelings had never agreed to follow the rules.
"To Aurelia!"
The room erupted in applause.
Orm lifted her glass.
She smiled.
She even laughed when someone beside her made a joke.
But she barely tasted the champagne.
Across the room, Ling was speaking with the Aurelia representatives.
She looked exactly as she always did when she was working: composed, elegant, and impossible to read.
Her dark hair was neatly arranged, her posture straight, her expression attentive as she listened to the clients discuss the campaign's results.
She looked like the woman Orm had first met at Veyra—the intimidating executive director who had sat across from her during her initial interview and made her feel as though every answer she gave was being carefully examined.
It was strange to think about that woman now.
Because Orm knew what existed beneath the polished exterior.
She knew the woman who laughed when she was genuinely amused.
The woman who softened around children and animals.
The woman who secretly remembered small details.
The woman who complained when Orm stole her coffee but never actually stopped her.
The woman who had learned exactly how Orm liked her food.
The woman who could look at Orm across a crowded room and somehow make everything else disappear.
That woman was the reason this ending hurt.
Not the campaign.
Not the contract.
Ling.
Orm lowered her eyes.
She had known this day would come.
She had known from the moment she signed the agreement that there would eventually be a final meeting, a final photograph, a final public appearance, and finally a point where the two of them would no longer have an excuse to remain together.
She had simply never expected to want the excuse to last forever.
"Orm?"
She looked up.
P'Cherry was standing beside her.
P'Cherry had been one of the central figures behind the Aurelia campaign from Veyra's side, the senior project manager who had spent months coordinating schedules, managing deadlines, calming clients, and preventing the entire project from descending into chaos.
She had become one of the few people in the company who could tell immediately when something was wrong with Orm, even when Orm was smiling.
"You've been quiet," P'Cherry said.
Orm smiled faintly. "I'm just tired."
P'Cherry glanced toward the screen.
"You're allowed to be tired. You worked incredibly hard."
Orm nodded.
"Everyone did."
"That's not what I said."
Orm looked at her.
P'Cherry's expression softened.
"You should be proud."
"I am."
"Then why do you look like someone just told you the campaign failed?"
Orm tried to laugh.
The sound came out weaker than she intended.
"I guess I'm just not very good at endings."
P'Cherry studied her for a moment.
Then her eyes shifted toward Ling.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
Orm followed her gaze.
Ling had just looked over.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the noise in the room seemed to fade.
Ling's expression softened almost imperceptibly.
Orm looked away first.
P'Cherry sighed quietly.
"Go talk to her."
Orm's heart tightened.
"I don't know what to say."
"Then say that."
Orm gave her a confused look.
P'Cherry smiled.
"Sometimes honesty is easier than finding the perfect words."
Before Orm could answer, P'Cherry was already walking away.
Orm remained seated.
She watched Ling speak to another client.
She waited.
Perhaps Ling would come to her.
Perhaps she would say something.
Perhaps she would make this easier.
But Ling didn't move.
And eventually Orm realized that if anything was going to happen, she would have to be the one to start it.
?
The celebration slowly began to dissolve.
People moved toward the elevators. The Aurelia team gathered their belongings. The last few bottles of champagne were being cleared away. The bright campaign images continued to rotate silently on the screen, beautiful moments frozen forever in a world that no longer existed.
Orm stood near the window, staring at Bangkok.
The city stretched endlessly beneath her, crowded roads threading between towers, headlights beginning to glow as evening approached. From this height, everything looked distant and manageable.
She wished her feelings were the same.
Behind her, she heard footsteps.
She didn't turn immediately.
She knew who it was.
Ling stopped a few feet away.
"You haven't gone home."
Orm swallowed.
"Neither have you."
"I had some things to finish."
"So did I."
Ling looked toward her.
"What things?"
Orm smiled sadly.
"I don't know."
The silence that followed was heavier than it should have been.
Ling moved closer.
"You've been avoiding me."
Orm looked at her.
"Have I?"
"Yes."
"Maybe."
"Why?"
Orm looked back toward the city.
"Because I knew this was coming."
Ling's brow furrowed.
"What?"
"The end."
Ling was silent.
Orm laughed softly.
"The contract."
She finally turned toward her.
"It's finished, Ling."
"I know."
"The campaign is finished."
"I know."
"So..."
Orm's voice faltered.
"So that's it."
Ling stared at her.
"It doesn't have to be."
Orm's heart jumped.
For one dangerous second, hope appeared.
Then she reminded herself who she was talking to.
Ling was the executive director.
The woman who had built her life around control.
The woman who rarely allowed emotion to interfere with decisions.
The woman who had never said the words Orm desperately wanted to hear.
Orm looked down.
"Doesn't it?"
Ling didn't answer immediately.
And that hesitation told Orm more than words could have.
She nodded slowly.
"Right."
"Orm—"
"It's okay."
"It isn't."
Orm looked at her.
Ling's expression was different now.
There was something unsteady behind her eyes.
But Orm couldn't trust it.
Not anymore.
"I think we both knew this was temporary," Orm said quietly.
Ling's jaw tightened.
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
Silence.
Orm took a slow breath.
"I knew what I signed."
"You knew what you signed," Ling repeated.
"Yes."
"And you think that means this has to end?"
Orm's eyes filled.
"What else am I supposed to think?"
Ling stepped closer.
"That perhaps not everything between us was part of the contract."
Orm stared at her.
"Then tell me."
Ling stopped.
Orm's voice trembled.
"Tell me what was real."
Ling opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Orm waited.
One second.
Two.
Three.
The silence became unbearable.
She smiled sadly.
"Exactly."
Ling's expression fell.
Orm reached into her bag.
Her fingers touched the bracelet.
She had spent the entire day feeling its weight around her wrist. It had been part of their fake relationship from the beginning. A simple piece of jewelry chosen by the campaign team.
At first, it had meant nothing. Then it had become a symbol. Something Ling had placed on her wrist. Something that had appeared in countless photographs. Something Orm had touched whenever she was nervous. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped thinking of it as a prop.
It had become hers.
Or perhaps it had become theirs.
She slowly unclasped it.
Ling's eyes followed the movement.
"Orm."
She held the bracelet between them.
"I think you should have this back."
Ling didn't take it.
"What are you doing?"
"The campaign is over."
"So?"
"So this belongs to the campaign."
"No."
Ling's answer came immediately.
Orm blinked.
Ling stepped closer.
"It belongs to you."
Orm shook her head.
"Not anymore."
"Why?"
"Because I can't keep pretending."
Ling stared at her.
Orm's tears finally spilled over.
She wiped them away quickly.
"I can't keep wearing something that reminds me of a relationship that doesn't exist."
Ling's voice softened.
"Orm..."
"I love you."
Ling froze.
Orm closed her eyes briefly.
She had said it before.
She had already laid her heart bare once.
And Ling hadn't answered.
Maybe she had hoped things would be different by the end.