The movie played on, forgotten more than watched.
The living room lights were dimmed, casting soft shadows across familiar faces gathered too close after too much absence.
Dadi sat comfortably against the cushions, half reclined, one hand resting possessively on Ling's arm like she was anchoring her there. Ling let it happen. She didn't pull away. She didn't shift.
Victor sat across from them, elbows resting on his knees, gaze steady but thoughtful. He had been quiet for a long time—too quiet. That usually meant he was thinking ahead, already moving pieces on a board no one else could see.
The movie dialogue faded into background noise when Victor finally spoke.
"So," he said evenly, "what are your plans now?"
The room stilled.
Ling felt it immediately—the subtle shift, the attention turning toward her. Even Dadi glanced up, eyes sharp despite the softness of the moment.
Ling blinked once.
"I don't know yet," she said honestly.
Victor raised an eyebrow slightly. Not in disbelief. In assessment. "You've always known."
Ling shrugged, a small, careless motion that didn't quite match the weight of the statement. "Not this time."
Eliza watched her closely, arms folded but not defensively. Rina leaned forward a little, curious. Zifa went quiet, sensing something important was unfolding.
Dadi scoffed softly. "Nonsense."
Ling glanced down at her. "What?"
"From where I'm sitting," Dadi said, tapping Ling's arm lightly, "you should be a professor."
Ling laughed under her breath. "A professor?"
"Yes," Dadi continued firmly. "You already wear glasses now. Clearly qualified."
Ling lifted a hand instinctively to the thin frames perched on her nose. She had forgotten they were there. A habit she'd picked up recently. Long nights. Too much staring at screens.
She smiled despite herself. "That's your criteria?"
"Of course," Dadi replied. "You glare like one too."
Zifa snorted. Rina smiled. Even Victor's lips curved faintly.
Ling leaned back into the couch, considering it—not dismissing it, not brushing it off like she normally would.
"Not a bad idea," she said slowly. "I could try that."
The words settled into the room like something fragile.
Eliza straightened immediately. "Are you serious?"
Ling turned her head toward her mother. Her expression was calm. Measured. Not defiant. Not reckless.
"Yes," Ling said, nodding once.
Eliza searched her face, clearly trying to determine whether this was impulse or intention. "You've never talked about teaching."
"I've never talked about a lot of things," Ling replied quietly.
Victor studied her now with open interest. "You'd be good at it."
Ling tilted her head slightly. "You think?"
"You're precise," Victor said. "Demanding. Intolerant of nonsense."
Dadi nodded approvingly. "Excellent traits."
Ling smirked. "High praise."
"And," Victor added, "you already command rooms without trying."
Ling's smile faded just a fraction—not unhappily. Thoughtfully.
"Command isn't the same as guiding," she said.
"No," Victor agreed. "But you can learn that part."
The room fell into a reflective silence.
Dadi squeezed Ling's arm again. "You don't have to decide everything tonight."
Ling looked down at her. "I know."
"But," Dadi added pointedly, "you shouldn't disappear again either."
Ling met her gaze steadily. "I won't."
Eliza exhaled, something easing in her posture. "If you stay… if you try this," she said carefully, "you don't have to carry everything alone."
Ling didn't respond immediately.
She looked around the room—at faces that had aged in four months without her, at eyes that still watched her like she might vanish if they blinked too long. At Dadi, alive and stubborn and warm at her side.
"I'm not promising permanence," Ling said finally. "Just presence."
Dadi smiled like that was more than enough.
"That's all I ask," she said.
The movie credits began to roll unnoticed.
The laughter lingered longer than it should have.
It was Rina who broke the comfortable noise first, twisting slightly on the couch to look at Ling with narrowed eyes and a grin that meant trouble.
"So," Rina said lightly, "where will you apply?"
Ling didn't answer immediately.
She stared at the blank television screen, reflections of the room faint against the black. Her jaw tightened—just a little. Enough for Eliza to notice. Enough for Victor to stop pretending he wasn't listening.
"Our university?" Rina added, too casually. "It makes sense. Everyone already knows you there. Half the board still trembles when your name comes up."
Ling's fingers curled slowly against her thigh.
"No," she said.
The single word cut clean.
Rina blinked. "No?"
"I won't apply there," Ling repeated, voice calm but final.
The room shifted.
Dadi frowned. "Why not? It's familiar. Close. Safe."
Ling swallowed once. "That's exactly why."
Eliza's gaze sharpened. "Ling—"
"I don't want to go back there," Ling said, finally turning to face them. Her tone wasn't angry. It was controlled. Too controlled. "Not now. Maybe not ever."
Rina opened her mouth again. "Is this about—"
"It's not up for discussion," Ling interrupted quietly.
Silence fell.
Victor leaned back, studying her. He didn't press. He already knew better.
Zifa tried to soften it with humor. "Fine, then. Somewhere abroad? Ivy League? You could choose any place."
Ling shook her head.
"No."
Rina laughed in disbelief. "Then where?"
Ling exhaled slowly, as if saying it out loud would make it real.
"Medical university."
The words landed heavier than expected.
Dadi's eyes widened. "Medical?"
Eliza stiffened. "You said you were done with—"
"I didn't say I'd practice," Ling replied evenly. "Teaching. Research. Administration. There are options."
Rina stared at her. Then burst out laughing. "Of course. The woman who terrifies surgeons wants to teach medicine."
Zifa grinned. "Students will faint."
"Professors will resign," Rina added.
Even Dadi chuckled, nudging Ling's arm. "You'll make them cry."
Ling smirked faintly. "They'll survive."
Victor nodded slowly. "It suits you."
Eliza hesitated. "Are you sure this isn't… running?"
Ling met her eyes. Held them.
"No," she said. "It's choosing."
Eliza searched her face, then looked away, unconvinced but unwilling to push further.
The teasing continued—light, affectionate, relieved.
"Imagine the headlines," Rina said. "Kwong Ling returns as professor. Terror resumes."
"I'll wear darker suits," Ling deadpanned.
They laughed again.
None of them noticed the way Ling's smile never reached her eyes.
None of them saw the calculation beneath the calm.
Because the truth stayed locked where Ling kept all dangerous things.
She hadn't chosen medical university because it excited her.
She had chosen it because she believed it was far enough.
Far enough from shared corridors.
From remembered corners.
From a name she still couldn't say without breaking something inside herself.
She believed distance could be designed.
Controlled.
Engineered.
She believed if she stayed away from her, the past would finally stop bleeding into the present.
What Ling didn't know—
what none of them knew—
Was that fate had never cared about her calculations.
That the medical university wasn't an escape.
It was a convergence.
Not just to reopen old wounds—
but to carve new ones.
To force new choices.
To build something unfamiliar from the ruins.
Ling thought she was choosing absence.
In reality, she was walking—slowly, deliberately—
Back into a future where Rhea existed again.
Not as memory.
But as inevitability.