Epilogue The Life We Chose #2
Orm turned the phone toward her.
Bow read.
Her eyebrows rose.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"That's..."
"Yeah."
Bow looked at her.
"You're calling Ling."
"Obviously."
Orm had barely tapped the call button when the phone rang.
Ling.
Orm stared.
Bow laughed.
"She knows."
Orm answered.
"Hello?"
"Are you looking at the proposal?"
Orm smiled.
"Yes."
"I knew it."
"How?"
"They sent it to both of us."
Orm laughed.
"Fair."
There was a pause.
Then Ling said,
"Come over tonight."
Orm leaned back.
"Why?"
"I want to discuss it."
"Professionally?"
"Obviously."
Orm smiled.
"You're lying."
"I am."
"Good."
Ling laughed.
"I'll see you later."
?
That evening, Orm arrived at Ling's agency carrying dinner.
Ling looked at the bags.
"You brought food."
"I know you."
"You brought too much."
"You say that every time."
"And every time you're right."
"Exactly."
Orm placed the food on the table.
Then dropped the proposal beside it.
She sat down.
Ling sat across from her.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Orm opened the folder.
"They want us."
"Yes."
"Together."
"Yes."
"For a wedding campaign."
"Yes."
Orm stared at her.
"You find this funny?"
"Very."
"Why?"
"Because of the irony."
Orm laughed.
"That's what I thought."
She flipped through the proposal.
The concept was unexpectedly beautiful.
It wasn't about perfect weddings.
It wasn't about expensive venues.
It wasn't about impossible standards.
The campaign wanted to show the messy, ordinary, human side of commitment.
The nervousness.
The laughter.
The small disagreements.
The crooked ties.
The forgotten vows.
The way people held hands when they were frightened.
The way they looked at each other when nobody else was watching.
Orm read the tagline.
Her mouth curved upward.
"Love, without pretending."
Ling nodded.
Orm stared at her.
"This is almost offensive."
Ling laughed.
"Why?"
"Because they couldn't have picked a more appropriate campaign."
"I know."
Orm closed the folder.
"Should we?"
Ling looked at her.
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Orm smiled.
"Because it's good."
"That's your professional answer."
Orm leaned closer.
"Because I want to work with you."
Ling's expression softened.
"That's your real answer."
"Maybe."
Ling reached across the table.
Orm placed her hand in hers.
They sat there for a moment.
Then Orm grinned.
"Think we can pretend to be engaged?"
Ling immediately laughed.
"Absolutely not."
Orm pouted.
"Why?"
"Because we've already done the pretending part."
"We're professionals."
"We're retired."
"You're no fun."
"I am plenty of fun."
"You weren't during our first date."
Ling groaned.
"Please don't."
"You were terrible."
"I was nervous."
"You pretended you weren't."
"You talked too much."
"I was nervous."
"You still talk too much."
Orm smiled.
"And you still love it."
Ling squeezed her hand.
"I do."
?
They accepted the campaign.
Not because they needed it.
Not because they needed the publicity.
Not because they wanted to prove anything.
They accepted because the concept mattered.
And perhaps because there was something poetic about it.
Their first major campaign together had been built around pretending.
Their last would be about honesty.
The universe seemed to have a sense of humour.
?
The campaign shoot took place several months later.
The location was a quiet garden outside Bangkok.
There were flowers.
Soft sunlight.
A small production crew.
No enormous stage.
No crowd.
No unnecessary spectacle.
Orm arrived wearing a simple dress.
Ling was already there.
She turned when Orm walked toward her.
And stopped.
Orm smiled.
"What?"
Ling shook her head.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I know."
"Why?"
"You look beautiful."
Orm smiled.
"You say that every day."
"Because it's true every day."
Orm looked down, trying to hide her smile.
The photographer called them over.
"Ready?"
Orm nodded.
Ling held out her hand.
Orm took it.
They walked onto the set together.
The photographer gave them a few instructions.
"Stand closer."
They did.
"Look at each other."
They did.
"Forget I'm here."
That made them laugh.
The photographer smiled.
"Exactly."
The camera clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And somehow, the photographs captured something that no direction could have created.
Not chemistry.
Not performance.
History.
The photographer lowered the camera.
"You two are easy."
Orm laughed.
"We've had practice."
Ling glanced at her.
The photographer smiled.
"Doing what?"
Orm grinned.
"Being together."
?
During the break, they sat beneath a tree.
Orm held two coffees.
She handed one to Ling.
Ling looked at it.
"My favourite."
"I know."
"You remembered."
"I always remember."
Ling smiled.
Orm looked at her.
"Do you remember the first campaign?"
"Every time."
"The first photograph?"
Ling nodded.
"The one that started everything."
Orm laughed.
"That photograph caused so much trouble."
"Yes."
"And now we're doing this."
Ling smiled.
"Life is strange."
Orm leaned against her shoulder.
"I like where it took us."
Ling kissed her hair.
"So do I."
?
The campaign became successful.
Very successful.
The photographs appeared everywhere.
The interviews followed.
People loved the campaign because it didn't look perfect.
It looked believable.
There was a photograph of Ling fixing Orm's necklace.
One of Orm laughing with her eyes closed.
One of them walking hand in hand.
One of Ling looking at Orm when she thought the camera wasn't watching.
That photograph became the most popular.
People called it romantic.
Some called it intimate.
Some said it looked like a private moment.
They were right.
It had been.
But for once, neither woman cared.
Because there was nothing to hide.
?
After the campaign ended, they went home.
Orm dropped her bag on the sofa.
Ling kicked off her shoes.
"Tea?"
"Yes."
"Food?"
"Yes."
"Movie?"
"Yes."
Ling looked at her.
"You're agreeing to everything."
"I'm tired."
"That's dangerous."
Orm smiled.
"Come here."
Ling walked toward her.
Orm wrapped her arms around her.
Ling rested her chin on her head.
They stayed like that for several minutes.
No cameras.
No assistants.
No campaign team.
No audience.
Just them.
Orm whispered,
"I like this."
Ling looked down.
"What?"
"This."
"What?"
"Our life."
Ling smiled.
"Me too."
"I thought happiness was supposed to be more exciting."
Ling laughed.
"So did I."
"But I like this better."
"Me too."
Orm looked up.
"Do you think we're boring?"
"Sometimes."
Orm gasped.
"Excuse me?"
Ling laughed.
"We spend too much time together."
"That's not boring."
"We argue about groceries."
"That's normal."
"You steal my clothes."
"That's romantic."
"You steal my coffee."
"That's survival."
Ling laughed.
Orm smiled.
"I like our boring life."
Ling kissed her forehead.
"Mine too."
?
Later that night, they sat on the balcony.
The city glittered beneath them.
Orm rested against Ling.
Ling held her hand.
The old contract was still framed inside the apartment.
They had kept it.
Not because they needed it.
Because it reminded them of how ridiculous they had once been.
Orm glanced through the glass doors.
"I still can't believe you tore that thing apart."
Ling laughed.
"It deserved it."
"You were very dramatic."
"You were the one who wanted to frame it."
"I still think we should."
"We did."
"Yes."
Orm smiled.
She looked at Ling.
"Do you remember what you said?"
Ling knew exactly what she meant.
"We broke that rule first."
Orm smiled.
"And we broke every rule after that."
"Almost."
"Which one didn't we break?"
Ling turned toward her.
"The pretending one."
Orm laughed.
"That was definitely broken."
"Good."
Ling leaned closer.
"I don't want to pretend anymore."
Orm's smile softened.
"Neither do I."
?
Sometimes, Orm wondered what their lives would have looked like if they had never met.
She wondered if Ling would still be at Veyra.
If she would still be the intimidating executive director who frightened half the office.
If Orm would still be struggling to find her voice.
If the Aurelia campaign would have become what it became.
If the photograph would ever have happened.
If Pete had ever walked into that event.
If there had ever been a hotel room with one bed.
If Ling had ever run across Bangkok.
If Orm had ever stood in that apartment and heard the words she had been terrified to hope for.
She could imagine a thousand different lives.
But none of them felt right.
Because somewhere along the way, Ling had stopped being part of her story.
She had become part of her definition of home.
And that was different.
Home wasn't a place.
It was the person you wanted to tell things to first.
The person whose opinion mattered.
The person you wanted beside you when something wonderful happened.
The person you wanted beside you when everything went wrong.
The person whose silence didn't feel empty.
The person whose presence made the world feel slightly less difficult.
Ling was that person.
And Orm was hers.
?
On the anniversary of their first meeting, Orm woke before Ling.
She lay quietly beside her, watching the morning light creep across the room.
Ling was asleep.
Her hair was messy.
One hand rested beneath her pillow.
She looked younger when she slept.
Softer.
Orm smiled.
She reached over and gently moved a strand of hair away from Ling's face.
Ling stirred.
Her eyes opened.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you staring?"
"Because I can."
Ling smiled sleepily.
"Come here."
Orm moved closer.
Ling wrapped her arms around her.
"Happy anniversary."
Orm smiled.
"We didn't technically start dating on this day."
"I know."
"So what are we celebrating?"
Ling thought.
"Meeting."
Orm smiled.
"That's a good one."
"Because if I hadn't met you..."
Orm interrupted.
"You'd be miserable."