Rhea's head tilted only because her strength was gone. Tears streamed freely, her lips parting in a silent cry that the music swallowed whole. Her hands twitched once, weak, useless she didn't push him away.
Not because she wanted this.
Because she couldn't.
Something inside Ling snapped.
It wasn't jealousy anymore.
It wasn't heartbreak.
It was pure, animal rage.
Ling crossed the distance in seconds.
The man didn't even see her coming.
A brutal shove ripped him off Rhea, sending him stumbling backward. Ling didn't say a word her face was cold, eyes burning, jaw clenched so tight it shook.
"What the—" he started.
Ling didn't let him finish.
Her fist connected, hard and fast. Once. Twice. Again.
The crowd recoiled, shocked screams mixing with the music as Ling drove him back with relentless force. She didn't stop. She didn't slow. Every hit carried weeks of restraint, weeks of loss, months of loving Rhea without permission.
Mira shouted her name from somewhere.
Security began pushing in.
Ling didn't hear any of it.
She was locked on one thing only the man on the floor drenching in his own blood now, who had touched what was never his.
Rhea slid down to the edge of the dance floor, knees giving out. She hugged herself, sobbing now, breath breaking apart as she watched Ling in stunned disbelief.
She came.
Tears blurred everything.
Finally, hands grabbed Ling from behind, pulling her back. Security dragged the man away, bloodied, unconscious.
Ling wrenched free once, chest heaving, then froze.
Her eyes found Rhea.
Rhea was crying openly now, broken, small, nothing like the girl who pretended strength during the day.
For a second, the club disappeared.
There was only them.
Ling's rage collapsed into horror.
"Rhea…" her voice cracked the first word she'd said all night.
Rhea looked at her like she was seeing a ghost.
Ling took a step toward her.
Slow. Careful. Like one wrong movement would make Rhea disappear.
"Rhea—" her voice broke again, raw and exposed, nothing like the girl who owned stadiums and boardrooms. "Are you hurt? Let me—"
Rhea laughed.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't amused.
It was shattered.
"Oh," Rhea said, a hollow sound tearing out of her chest as tears kept slipping down her face, "now you care?"
She wiped her cheek roughly, smearing makeup, eyes burning as she looked up at Ling. "What? Mira got boring already? Romance over so you thought you'd check if I'm still alive?"
Ling froze.
"That's not—" she started, stepping closer again.
Rhea snapped her head up. "Don't."
"I saw you," Rhea continued, laughing again, voice shaking now. "Your hand on her waist, hers on your waist. Her hand on your jaw. Noses brushing. You looked… comfortable." She swallowed, throat working painfully. "So congratulations. You're finally free."
Ling's face drained of color.
"That wasn't romance," Ling said urgently. "Rhea, you're twisting—"
"Oh don't," Rhea cut in sharply. "You twist reality better than anyone. You always did."
She pushed herself up unsteadily, swaying. Ling instinctively reached out.
Rhea slapped her hand away.
Her laugh turned bitter. "You always come when I break just to break more. I don't remember inviting you to watch me fall apart."
Ling turned slightly, jaw tight. "Mira dragged me here. I didn't even know—" her voice faltered, eyes locking back on Rhea, "—I didn't know you were here."
Rhea scoffed. "Yeah. Funny how fate keeps throwing us into the same rooms so you can keep proving how little I matter."
"That man—" Ling started, rage flickering again. "He hurt you. I saw it. I lost control because—"
"Because of ownership?" Rhea laughed bitterly. "Not love. Ownership. You don't get to act like my protector after you walked away."
Ling's chest heaved.
"I walked away because I thought that's what you wanted," she said, voice low, wrecked. "You told me to stay away. You made it clear I had no rights."
"And you listened," Rhea whispered. "For once."
The words hurt more than shouting.
Rhea hugged herself again, shoulders curling inward, suddenly looking so small it broke something deep in Ling's chest.
"I was in pain," Rhea said quietly now. "And you were… moving on."
Ling shook her head immediately. "I am not moving on. I can't. Mira knows that. Everyone knows that. I didn't touch her like—"
"Stop," Rhea said, closing her eyes. "Please stop explaining. I don't have the strength to hear it tonight."
Security lingered at a distance. Music had softened. People were watching.
Ling took one last step closer, careful, restrained, choosing control over instinct.
"I'm here," she said softly. "I'm not leaving you like this."
Rhea opened her eyes.
Red. Wet. Furious.
"You don't get to decide that anymore."
Mira stepped in sharply, heels cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Ling, stop," she said, gripping Ling's arm. Her voice was low but firm. "Leave her. This is over. Why are you doing this to yourself again?"
Ling didn't even turn fully. Her eyes were still on Rhea soaked, shattered, furious like nothing else in the room existed.
Before Ling could answer—
Rhea moved.
Fast. Unsteady. Reckless.
She shoved Mira back with one hard push to the shoulder.
"Don't touch her," Rhea snapped, voice breaking and sharp all at once.
Mira stumbled a step, shock flashing across her face. "Rhea—"
Rhea didn't look at her again.
She walked straight to Ling.
Close. Too close.
Her hand slid to Ling's waist not gentle, not loving deliberate. Claiming. Her fingers pressed exactly where she had seen Mira's hand earlier.
Ling went rigid.
"Like this," Rhea said softly, tears still falling, lips trembling with a cruel smile that wasn't real. "This is how she did it, right?"
Ling's breath hitched. "Rhea, don't—"
Rhea leaned in anyway.
So close their noses brushed barely, intentionally her forehead almost touching Ling's. The alcohol on her breath mixed with salt and hurt.
"And this," Rhea whispered, voice cracking despite her effort to sound steady, "this is how your noses brushed."
The words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be.
Ling's hands hovered uselessly at her sides, muscles locked in restraint like she was holding back something violent or desperate.
"I didn't want that," Ling said hoarsely. "You're not understanding—"
"Oh I understand perfectly," Rhea interrupted, laughing softly through tears. "I saw it. I felt it." Her fingers tightened at Ling's waist for half a second before loosening again. "Funny how it hurts more when you're watching, isn't it?"
Mira stepped forward again, anger and something wounded flickering in her eyes. "Rhea, you don't get to use her like this."
Rhea finally turned her head, eyes blazing. "Use her?" she echoed. "That's rich."
Ling closed her eyes briefly, jaw clenched, then opened them again choosing control with visible effort.
"Enough," Ling said quietly, not commanding, not dominant just exhausted. "Both of you."
Rhea's hand slipped away from Ling's waist like it had burned her.
For a split second, her bravado collapsed.
Her shoulders sagged.
"I hate you," Rhea whispered not loud enough for the room, only for Ling. "Not because you don't love me." Her voice broke completely. "But because you do… and you still let me bleed."
Ling reached out this time slow, asking.
Rhea stepped back.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Don't fix it now. Don't save me now."
She turned away, wiping her face harshly, walking past Mira without another glance.
Ling stood frozen between them Mira behind her, Rhea disappearing into the crowd the space around her filled with consequences she could no longer outrun.
Mira caught Ling's arm again, fingers tightening in panic this time.
"Ling, stop," she said urgently. "Don't do this. Let her go. You'll only make it worse."
Ling snapped her head back, eyes blazing not with dominance, but with something feral and afraid.
"Don't," Ling said sharply. One word. Cold. Absolute.
Mira froze.
"I didn't ask for your permission tonight," Ling continued, voice low and cutting. "And I'm not losing her because you think you know what's best."
Mira's lips parted, hurt flashing across her face. "Ling, she humiliated you. She's drunk. She's angry. You can't save someone who doesn't want—"
Ling yanked her arm free.
"I don't care," she said. "Move."
And she did.
Ling pushed through the crowd with purpose now, eyes scanning desperately brown dress, bare waist, that damn piercing she could recognize in a room of thousands. Her heart pounded louder than the music.
"Rhea!" she called once, voice almost lost in the bass.
Nothing.
She checked near the bar first. Empty stools. Spilled drinks. Strangers laughing like the world wasn't ending.
Her breath shortened.
She moved faster, shoving past people, ignoring protests, her control unraveling with every step.
Dance floor — gone.
VIP corner — not there.
Restrooms — empty hallway, mirrors smeared with fingerprints and light.
Ling's chest tightened painfully.
She didn't even wait to see if I'd follow.
She stepped outside the club, cold night air slamming into her lungs. Cars lined the curb. Smoke curled from people laughing, flirting, living.
Rhea was nowhere.
Ling spun slowly, eyes searching like she could will Rhea into existence.
Nothing.
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails biting into skin. The realization hit hard and cruel:
Rhea had left.
Alone.
Drunk.
Broken.
Ling dragged a hand through her hair, breathing turning uneven panic creeping in where rage had been.
"Fuck," she whispered.
Behind her, Mira stepped out cautiously. "Ling… she probably just went home."
Ling didn't answer.
She pulled out her phone with shaking fingers and dialed.
No answer.
Again.
Still nothing.
Ling stared at the dark screen like it had betrayed her.
For the first time all night, the fear wasn't about losing Rhea's love.
It was about losing Rhea herself.
——
The upstairs room was nothing like the dance floor.
The music here was duller, heavier vibrating through walls instead of bodies. The air was thick, sweet and bitter at once, smoke clinging to skin, laughter sounding wrong, delayed, hollow.
Rhea sat on the edge of a low couch, knees pulled close, head spinning. The alcohol had already softened the world too much — lights bleeding into each other, sounds arriving late, her body feeling like it didn't quite belong to her anymore.
People around her were careless. Detached. Passing things from hand to hand like pain was just another inconvenience to be shared.
Someone beside her leaned in, face blurred at the edges.
"Wanna forget everything?" the voice said lightly. Too lightly.
Rhea laughed under her breath a broken sound that didn't reach her eyes.
Forget everything?
As if that was possible.
Her mind flashed cruel images anyway Ling's face, Mira's hand on Ling's waist, the way Ling had looked at her like she was already gone.
Her chest tightened.
"Sure," Rhea heard herself say. The word didn't feel like a choice. It felt like surrender.
Something was placed into her hand. Cold. Foreign. Drugs.
For half a second just half doubt flickered.
Mom would kill me.
Ling would—
Her thoughts cut off there.
She didn't want to think about Ling anymore. Thinking hurt. Feeling hurt worse.