Chapter 14 The Things We Dont Say #2
Maybe she had imagined that once the contract was finished, Ling would finally stop being afraid.
But nothing had changed.
So Orm opened her eyes.
"I love you," she repeated, quieter this time. "And that's why I can't keep doing this."
Ling's eyes were shining now.
"You think I don't—"
She stopped.
Orm waited.
But again, Ling couldn't finish.
That was enough.
Orm placed the bracelet into Ling's hand.
Their fingers touched.
The contact lasted only a second.
It felt like the end of everything.
"Take care of yourself," Orm whispered.
Then she turned.
"Orm."
She stopped.
Her back remained toward Ling.
For one impossible moment, she hoped.
She hoped Ling would say the words.
She hoped Ling would tell her not to leave.
She hoped Ling would finally choose honesty over fear.
But the silence stretched behind her.
Orm closed her eyes.
Then continued walking.
?
The elevator doors opened.
Orm stepped inside.
She pressed the button.
The doors began closing.
Through the narrowing gap, she could still see Ling standing in the corridor.
She was still holding the bracelet.
Still watching.
Still silent.
Orm's heart broke.
Then the doors closed.
And she was alone.
?
Outside Veyra, the evening air was warm.
Orm walked toward the car park with her bag over her shoulder.
She didn't cry until she was safely inside her car.
The moment the door closed, everything she had been holding back collapsed.
She covered her face with both hands.
A sob escaped.
Then another.
She hated herself for crying.
She hated Ling for not stopping her.
She hated the contract.
She hated the campaign.
She hated the fact that something that had started as a professional arrangement had become the most personal thing in her life.
But most of all, she hated that she still loved her.
Because loving Ling would have been easier if Ling had been cruel.
If she had been cold.
If she had never cared.
If every smile, every touch, every late-night conversation had been fake.
Then Orm could have walked away angry.
Instead, she had walked away heartbroken.
Because somewhere beneath all the pretending, there had been something real.
She knew it.
Ling knew it.
And yet neither of them had been brave enough to name it.
?
That night, Orm returned to her apartment and didn't turn on the lights.
The darkness felt appropriate.
She dropped her bag near the door and sat on the sofa.
Her apartment was filled with reminders.
The coffee mug Ling had once left behind.
A book Ling had recommended.
A photograph from the Aurelia campaign.
A small note on the refrigerator in Ling's handwriting.
Orm stared at it.
She had never noticed how much of Ling existed inside her home until now.
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
"I hate you," she whispered.
The words were barely audible.
And then she started crying again.
Because she didn't.
She loved her.
That was the problem.
?
Across Bangkok, Ling sat alone at her kitchen table.
The bracelet rested in front of her.
She had been staring at it for almost an hour.
Her phone was beside it.
Orm's name was still at the top of her messages.
Ling opened the conversation.
She scrolled.
There were hundreds of messages.
Some professional.
Some ridiculous.
Some sent at midnight.
Some consisted of nothing more than photographs of food.
There were messages from Orm complaining about meetings.
Messages reminding Ling to eat.
Messages asking whether she was still working.
Messages containing terrible jokes.
Ling smiled despite herself.
Then the smile disappeared.
Because there would be no more.
The contract was over.
Orm had walked away.
And Ling had let her.
She picked up the bracelet.
Her thumb traced its edge.
She remembered the first time she had put it on Orm.
How annoyed Orm had been.
How she had complained that the entire fake relationship was ridiculous.
How Ling had told her to trust the process.
How neither of them had understood what that process would eventually become.
Ling closed her eyes.
She finally understood something she had been refusing to acknowledge.
The campaign had been fake.
The relationship had been fake.
But the feelings had never been.
And she had just allowed the woman she loved to walk away believing otherwise.
?
The next morning, Orm went to work.
She arrived early.
Earlier than usual.
She wanted to avoid Ling.
She wanted to prove to herself that she could continue without her.
She sat at her desk.
Opened her laptop.
Started working.
At nine-thirty, Bow appeared.
She looked at Orm.
Then at the untouched coffee beside her.
"You didn't sleep."
Orm didn't look up.
"I slept."
"You look like you fought a war."
"I'm fine."
Bow sighed.
"Stop saying that."
Orm finally looked at her.
"I have work."
Bow studied her.
Then quietly asked,
"Did you two talk?"
Orm's expression changed.
"Yes."
"And?"
Orm swallowed.
"It's over."
Bow went silent.
She didn't ask anything else.
She simply pulled out the chair beside Orm and sat down.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Bow said quietly,
"You know, you don't have to be strong all the time."
Orm looked away.
"I don't know how to be anything else."
Bow reached over and squeezed her shoulder.
"Then learn."
Orm's eyes filled.
She nodded.
But she didn't cry.
Not this time.
?
Days became weeks.
Orm buried herself in work.
She accepted new projects.
She attended meetings.
She laughed when appropriate.
She slowly began rebuilding the routine she had before Ling.
But it wasn't the same.
Nothing was.
She had thought returning to normal would make her feel normal.
Instead, she discovered that normal had changed.
Because Ling had changed her.
She had taught Orm how to argue without being afraid.
How to defend an idea.
How to take criticism.
How to lead.
How to trust.
How to love.
And now Orm had to learn how to live without the person who had taught her all of it.
?
Ling was struggling too.
Fluke noticed first.
Then P'Cherry.
Then almost everyone.
She worked longer hours.
She became quieter.
The intimidating executive director was still there, but the woman beneath her seemed to have disappeared.
One evening, Fluke stood in her office doorway.
"You know this is ridiculous."
Ling didn't look up.
"What is?"
"You."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Very specific."
"You love her."
Ling's pen stopped.
Fluke continued.
"She loves you."
Ling looked away.
"And yet somehow you're both sitting in separate buildings pretending you're fine."
Ling's voice was quiet.
"She gave me the bracelet back."
"So?"
"So it's over."
Fluke shook his head.
"No. The contract is over."
Ling looked at him.
"There's a difference."
The words stayed with her.
After he left, Ling opened the drawer.
The bracelet was still there.
She took it out.
Held it.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to imagine the possibility that perhaps she had been wrong.
Perhaps she had spent too long believing that love required certainty.
Perhaps she had been waiting for the perfect moment.
Perhaps there was no perfect moment.
Perhaps there was only courage.
Ling looked at the bracelet.
Then whispered,
"Orm."
Her voice broke.
She closed her eyes.
"I should have stopped you."
?
Meanwhile, Orm stood at her bedroom window that same night.
She looked out at the city.
Her phone sat on the bed behind her.
She had typed Ling's name into the search bar three times.
She had opened their conversation twice.
She had almost called.
Twice.
But she hadn't.
Because she had already said everything.
She had told Ling she loved her.
Ling had said nothing.
Orm couldn't be the only person fighting for them.
So she had stopped.
She had to.
Even if it hurt.
Especially because it hurt.
She wiped her eyes.
Then whispered into the empty room,
"Goodbye, Ling."
She didn't know that, across the city, Ling was holding the bracelet and saying her name at almost the exact same moment.
Neither woman knew that their silence was about to end.
Neither knew that the distance they had created would soon become impossible to maintain.
Because love could survive distance.
It could survive fear.
It could survive mistakes.
But eventually, it demanded an answer.
And Ling had finally reached the point where silence was no longer safer than honesty.
She stood from the kitchen table.
Picked up her keys.
Placed the bracelet in her pocket.
And walked toward the door.
This time, she wasn't going to let Orm walk away.
This time, she was going after her.
And for the first time in her life, Ling was going to stop being rational.