Ling realized too late.
The moment Rhea disappeared past the last row of lights, something in Ling's chest twisted—sharp, instinctive, wrong.
This was flight.
"Rhea," Ling called, her voice cutting through the noise behind them.
Rhea heard it.
Her breath hitched violently, tears blurring her vision. Don't. She clenched her jaw and kept walking faster, heels scraping against the floor. Ling's voice followed again—closer now, sharper.
"Rhea. Stop."
Her heart slammed harder. She didn't turn. She couldn't. If she did, she knew she would collapse right there and let Ling take her apart again.
"I can't," she whispered to no one.
She turned a corner blindly, chest burning, vision swimming. The hallway narrowed—older, dimmer. No music. No people. Just cold walls and silence.
A door.
Metal. Slightly ajar.
Rhea didn't think. She pushed it open and slipped inside, pulling it shut behind her with shaking hands.
The sound echoed—clack.
Only then did she realize how quiet it was.
The air hit her immediately. Sharp. Icy. Her skin prickled beneath the thin fabric of her dress.
"What…?" she whispered.
The room was large, bare, stainless steel lining the walls. No furniture. No lights except one dull emergency strip glowing faint blue. Her breath fogged as soon as it left her mouth.
A freezer.
Not running fully—but cold enough.
Rhea backed up instinctively, arms wrapping around herself. "Okay… it's fine. Just for a minute," she muttered, teeth already beginning to chatter. "Just hide. Breathe."
She wiped her face angrily. "Idiot. Absolute idiot."
Outside, footsteps passed by.
Ling.
Rhea froze.
Ling's voice echoed down the hallway, controlled but tight. "Rhea."
Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob. She pressed her back to the metal wall, heart hammering so loud she was sure Ling would hear it.
"Answer me," Ling called again. "This isn't funny."
Rhea slid down slowly until she was crouched on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. Her fingers were already numb. Cold seeped through her bones, relentless.
"I can't do this," she whispered, tears spilling freely now. "I can't love you like this."
Outside, Ling's footsteps slowed… then moved on.
Rhea squeezed her eyes shut as panic surged. "Don't find me," she begged silently. "Please don't."
Minutes passed. Or seconds. Time blurred.
Her shivering worsened, violent now. She rubbed her arms desperately, breath coming out in short, broken gasps. "Okay, Rhea. Just… just stay awake," she told herself shakily. "You'll go out in a bit."
She reached for the door handle.
It didn't move.
Her smile faltered. "No… no, no."
She pulled harder. Nothing.
Her breath hitched. "It opens from outside," she realized aloud, voice thin with fear. "Of course it does."
She laughed weakly, hysterically. "Of course."
Her knees gave out fully and she sank to the floor again, hugging herself tightly.
And Rhea was alone in the cold, shaking, crying silently—
with no idea how long the door would stay closed.
Ling realized something was wrong the second.
"Rhea!" Ling's voice cut through the corridor, sharp, uncontrolled now.
She moved fast, boots echoing, opening doors one by one, scanning corners, forcing herself not to imagine blood, not to imagine collapse. Her chest felt too tight to breathe properly.
"Rhea, stop this," she shouted again, anger threading panic. "I swear to God—answer me."
No reply.
Then she felt it.
Cold.
Not from the air—from instinct.
Ling turned sharply down the unused wing. The lights were dimmer here, older. A service corridor. Her eyes locked onto a steel door slightly frosted at the edges.
"No," she muttered.
She grabbed the handle and yanked it open.
The cold hit her like a punch.
Inside, Rhea sat on the floor.
Curled in on herself. Arms locked around her knees. Hair damp, face pale, lips trembling violently. Her eyes flew open when she saw Ling—wide, shocked, terrified.
For one suspended second, neither of them spoke.
Then Ling stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind her with a heavy thud.
Click.
Locked.
Rhea's breath hitched sharply. "Ling—"
"Don't," Ling snapped immediately, turning back to the door and yanking at it. It didn't move. Her jaw clenched hard. "Of course. Opens from outside."
She exhaled through her teeth, furious—not at the room, not at the lock.
At herself.
She turned slowly.
"What are you doing?" Ling demanded, voice cold, clipped, deliberately cruel. "Trying to disappear now too?"
Rhea laughed weakly, hysterically. "You're one to talk about disappearing."
Ling's eyes flashed. "I didn't trap myself in a freezer."
"I didn't know it would lock!" Rhea shot back, then hugged herself tighter as another violent shiver tore through her. "I just needed you to stop chasing me."
Ling took one step closer. The cold didn't touch her the way it touched Rhea—she barely felt it.
Ling looked at her shaking body, at the blue creeping into her fingers.
Her voice hardened. "Stand up."
"No."
"Rhea."
"Don't order me," Rhea whispered fiercely. "You don't get to control me anymore."
Ling grabbed her arm and yanked her up hard, fingers digging in like she was trying to keep Rhea from vanishing again. Rhea stumbled forward, breath knocked out of her, pain flaring up her shoulder.
"Don't," Rhea hissed, eyes burning.
Ling didn't let go.
Her eyes were red. Not glossy. Red with rage, sleeplessness, and something feral beneath it.