Dadi reached out and squeezed Ling's hand gently. "You can pretend hate all you want. Your body doesn't."
Ling looked away.
Rina smirked again, lighter this time. "So what's the plan now, Professor?"
Ling's voice was flat. "Nothing."
Rina tilted her head. "Nothing nothing?"
"Yes."
Dadi chuckled knowingly. "That's usually when you do the most damage."
Ling stood abruptly. "I'm tired."v
She walked toward the stairs, spine straight, steps controlled.
Rina called after her, teasing but not unkind. "Try not to dream about doors that never open."
Ling didn't respond.
In her room, she shut the door and leaned back against it, eyes closing.
Her chest ached.
She whispered to the empty space, barely audible:
"I hate you."
The room didn't believe her.
And neither did she.
Dinner at the Nior mansion was quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
Rhea sat at the long dining table with Amaya in her arms, the child curled against her chest, warm and trusting. One small hand clutched Rhea's shirt, the other lazily playing with her hair. Amaya's soft breathing was the only thing grounding her.
Rhea barely touched her food.
Shyra noticed immediately.
"You didn't even taste it," Shyra said gently, nodding toward the plate. "It'll get cold."
"I'm not hungry," Rhea replied, voice flat.
That was a lie. Her body needed food after the hospital, after the cold, after everything—but her chest felt too tight to swallow anything properly.
Across the table, Roin shifted in his seat.
"You should eat," he said, trying to sound casual. "You were unconscious for hours. Doctors said—"
"I said I'm not hungry," Rhea cut in sharply.
Roin raised his hands slightly. "Okay. I'm just concerned."
Concern.
That word irritated her more than it should have.
Amaya stirred, letting out a small sound. Rhea immediately adjusted her hold, pressing a light kiss to the child's temple. Her voice softened instantly.
"It's okay, baby. I've got you."
Roin watched the change closely.
"You're good with her," he said after a moment. "She calms you."
Rhea didn't respond.
Kane, seated at the head of the table, set her cutlery down with deliberate precision. "Rhea."
Rhea stiffened but looked up.
"You're discharged," Kane continued calmly. "That means you rest. No stress. No unnecessary… complications."
Her eyes flicked briefly to Roin when she said that.
Rhea's jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
Kane studied her daughter's pale face, the faint shadows under her eyes. "You don't look fine."
Shyra intervened gently. "She's tired, Mom. Anyone would be."
Kane hummed, unconvinced. "Tired doesn't explain stubbornness."
Rhea's fingers curled slightly around Amaya. "Can we not do this at dinner?"
Roin cleared his throat, sensing the tension. "Actually," he said, leaning forward, "I was thinking—maybe we could go out tomorrow. Just get some air. Coffee or something."
Rhea looked at him slowly.
"No."
The answer was immediate. Firm.
Roin blinked. "I just meant—"
"I know what you meant," Rhea said, eyes cold. "And I said no."
Shyra glanced between them, uncomfortable. "Rhea, he's just trying to help."
"I don't need help," Rhea snapped. Then, realizing Amaya had shifted again, she lowered her voice. "I need quiet."
Roin exhaled, frustration slipping through. "You keep pushing everyone away."
Rhea laughed quietly. Bitterly. "No. I'm just not letting everyone pretend they understand me."
Kane's gaze sharpened. "Enough."
The word cut clean through the table.
Rhea fell silent.
Kane leaned back slightly. "Rhea needs stability right now. Not emotional indulgence."
Roin nodded quickly. "Of course. I just thought—"
"Thought too much," Kane said coolly. "Give her space."
Roin clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Rhea stared down at Amaya's sleeping face. The child shifted again, tiny fingers tightening.
"You can stay with me tonight," Shyra said softly. "In my room. Amaya sleeps better there."
Rhea hesitated. "I don't want to disturb—"
"You won't," Shyra interrupted.
That word landed heavier than intended.
Rhea nodded once. "Okay."
She stood carefully, adjusting Amaya against her shoulder.
As she turned to leave, Roin spoke again—lower this time.
"If you change your mind… I'm here."
Rhea paused.
She didn't turn back.
"I won't," she said quietly.
Then she walked out.
Later that night, in Shyra's room, Rhea sat on the edge of the bed while Amaya slept between them. The lights were dim. The house was silent.
Shyra watched Rhea carefully. "Mom shouldn't have lied to you."
Rhea's breath caught—but she kept her eyes forward. "About what?"
Shyra didn't answer immediately. Then softly, "About Ling."
Rhea's throat tightened.
"She left," Rhea said quickly. Too quickly. "That's what matters."
Shyra sighed. "Rhea—"
"I hate her," Rhea said, forcing the words out like armor. "I don't care."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Shyra didn't push. She just reached out and covered Rhea's hand gently.
Rhea swallowed hard, staring at Amaya.
"I don't care," she repeated, quieter now.
But later, when the room was dark and everyone else asleep, Rhea turned her face into the pillow and cried silently—careful not to wake the child in her arms.
Because hate was easier than missing someone who had already left.
And believing Ling didn't want her anymore hurt and admitting she still wanted Ling more than she could survive without.