Chapter 20 Until We Stop Pretending #4
"Kitchen?"
"No."
Orm laughed.
"Fine."
They found a simple frame.
Orm carefully placed the torn pieces inside.
The contract looked ridiculous.
Broken.
Incomplete.
Almost meaningless.
But they could still read the words.
The rules.
The conditions.
The beginning.
Ling stood beside her.
Orm looked at the frame.
Then at Ling.
"You know what?"
"What?"
"I'm glad you tore it."
Ling smiled.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want anything written on paper telling us what we can feel."
Ling took her hand.
"Neither do I."
Orm rested her head against Ling's shoulder.
"We can write our own rules."
Ling smiled.
"Okay."
Orm looked up.
"Rule one."
"What?"
"Never steal my coffee."
Ling laughed.
"Impossible."
"Then rule one is already broken."
"Good."
"Rule two?"
"Always tell the truth."
Orm nodded.
"Rule three?"
Ling thought.
"Always come home."
Orm's expression softened.
"That's a good one."
"Rule four."
"What?"
"Don't stop annoying me."
Orm laughed.
"I can guarantee that."
Ling smiled.
"Good."
Orm looked at her.
"Rule five."
"What?"
"No more pretending."
Ling's smile became soft.
"That's the only one we need."
?
That evening, they sat together on the balcony again.
The framed contract hung inside the apartment where they could see it from the sofa.
The words were ridiculous.
The memories weren't.
Orm leaned against Ling.
Ling kissed her hair.
"Do you regret anything?"
Orm thought about it.
"No."
"Nothing?"
"Maybe one thing."
"What?"
"I wish I hadn't hated you so much."
Ling laughed.
"You were justified."
"I was dramatic."
"You were."
"I was also right."
"About?"
"You were terrifying."
Ling laughed.
Orm smiled.
"What about you?"
"Do I regret anything?"
"Yes."
Ling thought.
"I regret not telling you sooner."
Orm looked at her.
"How soon?"
"The first time I realised."
"When was that?"
Ling smiled.
"Before the kiss."
Orm's heart skipped.
"You knew?"
"I knew."
"And you still walked away."
"I was scared."
Orm touched her cheek.
"And now?"
Ling leaned into her hand.
"Now I'm not."
Orm smiled.
"Good."
Ling kissed her.
Outside, Bangkok glittered.
Inside, the old contract sat in its frame.
A reminder of a time when two people had believed they could control the boundaries of their hearts.
They had been wrong.
Love had never cared about their rules.
It had arrived in arguments.
In jealousy.
In laughter.
In coffee.
In long nights.
In a hotel room with one bed.
In a photograph.
In the space between two people who were supposed to be pretending.
It had arrived quietly.
Then all at once.
And now it was here.
Not perfect.
Not scripted.
Not planned.
But theirs.
Orm curled closer.
Ling held her tighter.
"Are you happy?" Orm whispered again.
Ling smiled.
"Ask me tomorrow."
Orm laughed.
"Why?"
"Because I'll be even happier then."
Orm looked up.
"You promise?"
Ling kissed her forehead.
"Promise."
And that was how they stayed.
Not because a contract told them to.
Not because a campaign needed them.
Not because a company expected it.
Not because the world was watching.
They stayed because they wanted to.
Because after all the pretending, they had finally discovered the simplest truth of all:
They didn't need a reason to love each other.
They didn't need permission.
They didn't need a strategy.
They didn't need rules.
They only needed each other.
And when Orm reached for Ling's hand, Ling took it without hesitation.
The same hands that had once signed a contract promising not to fall in love now held each other with absolute certainty.
The contract had ended.
The campaign had ended.
The pretending had ended.
But their story hadn't.
It was only beginning.
Ling looked at Orm.
Orm looked back.
And this time, neither of them looked away.
"Still think we should have followed the rules?" Orm whispered.
Ling smiled.
"Never."
Orm laughed.
"Good."
Ling pulled her closer.
"We broke that rule first."
Orm smiled.
"And every rule after it."
Ling kissed her.
"Then let's keep breaking them."
And under the quiet Bangkok sky, with the old contract hanging crookedly on the wall and the woman she loved safely in her arms, Ling finally understood something she had spent her whole life avoiding:
Some things were never meant to be controlled.
Some stories were never meant to be planned.
And some loves were never meant to remain pretend.
This one had begun with two strangers agreeing to fake something neither of them understood.
It ended with two women who no longer needed to pretend at all.
Because somewhere between the first argument and the last kiss, between I don't care and I love you, between every rule they broke and every fear they survived, they had become something neither of them had expected.
Not a campaign.
Not a contract.
Not a performance.
Not a story someone else could write for them.
Just Ling.
Just Orm.
Just them.
Together.
Until forever.
And this time, they meant it.