Rhea looked at him coldly.
"Luck doesn't favor arrogance," she replied.
"And leadership isn't about talking the loudest."
Kane watched the exchange closely, seeing the tension and the truth beneath it.
She knew it now.
Rhea was just pretending unaffected.
But she isn't in real.
Rhea stood sharply saying "I need rest."
She pushed her door shut the moment she entered.
Click.
The lock slid into place.
The noise from downstairs disappeared, but the noise inside her chest didn't.
She leaned her forehead against the door for a long second, breathing unevenly, then walked toward her bed slowly like every step was heavier than the last.
She opened the drawer beneath the bed.
Right at the bottom, folded carefully, untouched for days, was Ling's black shirt.
The one Ling had left behind
the first time she climbed through the window.
Rhea picked it up.
Her fingers trembled.
The fabric still carried a faint scent soap, sweat, something unmistakably Ling.
Her control broke.
She pressed the shirt to her chest, then tighter like she was afraid it might disappear if she loosened her grip.
Tears slipped down silently.
"I hate you…" she whispered into the fabric, voice breaking.
"…and I can't let you go."
She crawled onto the bed, curling into herself, wrapping the shirt around her like a shield.
Her face buried in it.
Her shoulders shook.
No anger.
No pretending.
No audience.
Just longing.
Just loss.
Just love she refused to name.
Rhea fell asleep like that
arms locked around Ling's shirt,
tears drying on her cheeks,
heart still calling a name she wouldn't say out loud.
——
The dining table at the Kwong mansion was full
but Ling's chest felt empty.
Victor sat at the head, calm and authoritative as always.
Eliza was beside him, elegant, proud, observant.
Dadi sat comfortably, eyes sharp despite her relaxed posture.
Rina leaned back in her chair, casual but alert.
Mira sat a little too close to Ling.
Ling arrived late.
She took her seat quietly, shoulders tense, eyes dull a contrast to the girl everyone knew.
Victor noticed immediately.
"You're late," he said, not harsh, just factual.
"Practice ran long," Ling replied flatly.
Dadi hummed, glancing at her over her glasses.
"Practice, or overthinking?"
Ling didn't answer.
Eliza smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
"The competition pressure is finally catching up, hm?"
She reached out and patted Ling's hand proudly.
"But still my daughter is leading as always."
Ling nodded once. No smile.
Mira leaned in, voice soft, possessive.
"I told you to rest," she whispered.
"You don't look well."
Ling subtly shifted her arm away.
"I'm fine," she said, tone clipped.
Rina smirked.
"She's not fine. She's just pretending."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Rina shrugged.
"She's been like this for days."
Ling shot her a warning look.
"Rina."
Dadi chuckled knowingly.
"Let her talk. Silence has been eating you alive anyway."
Mira frowned slightly.
"Dadi, don't tease her. Ling has responsibilities. Feelings can wait."
Dadi's smile faded just a little.
"Feelings don't wait," she said calmly.
"They collect interest."
Ling's fingers tightened around her fork.
Victor changed the topic.
"Round four is leadership, correct?"
Ling nodded.
"Teams will be decided on the spot."
"Good," Victor said.
"Then instinct matters."
Eliza added proudly,
"No one leads better than Ling."
Mira smiled, sliding her hand over Ling's wrist this time, clearly intentional.
"And she won't be distracted now."
Ling pulled her hand back.
"I said I'm fine."
The table went quiet.
Dadi watched her closely the stiffness, the forced control, the absence of fire.
She sighed.
"You've lost weight," Dadi said gently.
"And sleep."
Ling finally looked at her grandmother.
"I lost something else too," she said quietly.
"But it's okay."
Victor narrowed his eyes slightly.
Dadi didn't ask.
She only reached across the table and placed her hand over Ling's.
"Losing someone doesn't mean you stop living," Dadi said softly.
"But pretending you don't hurt?"
She shook her head.
"That's how strong people break."
Ling swallowed hard.
"I won't break," she said.
"Not now."
Dadi squeezed her hand once.
"Good," she replied.
"Because tomorrow you'll lead others."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And leaders don't bleed on the battlefield."
Ling nodded.
But when she stood to leave the table, her steps were heavy.
Mira watched her go, eyes narrowed.
Rina leaned toward Dadi and whispered,
"She's already bleeding."
Dadi closed her eyes briefly.
"Yes," she murmured.
"And the one who could stop it… isn't here."
Ling's room was dim, curtains half drawn.
She stood near the window, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular when the door opened softly.
Mira stepped in.
"I knocked," she said gently.
"You didn't answer."
Ling didn't turn around.
"I heard."
Mira hesitated, then smiled faintly.
"I've been away for so long," she said, trying to sound light.
"And the first place I came to was you."
Still no response.
Mira walked a little closer.
"Can't you just… talk to me for a while?" she asked.
"Maybe we can spend some time together. Like before."
Ling exhaled sharply and finally turned.
Her eyes were tired. Irritated. Empty.
"Before what?" Ling said coldly.
"Before you left whenever it suited you?"
Mira's smile faltered.
"I came back for you," she said softly.
Ling laughed once, humorless.
"No," Ling replied.
"You came back when it was convenient and literally I don't care."
Mira stiffened.
"That's not fair."
Ling's voice rose slightly, edged with frustration.
"What's not fair is you walking into my room and acting like this," she snapped.
"I don't have the energy for this. Or for you."
Silence.
Mira's eyes flickered hurt, pride, calculation all passing in seconds.
"I just wanted to talk," she said quietly.
Ling turned away again.
"Well, I don't."
For a moment, Mira stood there, waiting hoping.
Then she nodded once.
"…Okay."
She walked out without another word, closing the door carefully behind her.
Downstairs, the mansion lights glowed warmly, laughter faint in the distance but Mira's expression had hardened.
And upstairs, Ling stood alone again, jaw clenched, wondering why everyone kept asking for space in her life
when the only space she wanted
was already empty.
Downstairs, Mira adjusted her coat, her expression calm again controlled.
"I should go now," she said politely, smiling at Eliza.
"It's been a long day."
Eliza nodded, returning the smile.
"Of course. You can visit again."
Victor gave a brief nod.
Rina watched silently.
Dadi observed everything.
Mira turned toward the door
"Wait."
Ling's voice came from upstairs.
Clear. Firm.
Everyone froze.
Ling stood at the railing, one hand on it, looking down.
"Can't you stay?" she said.
"Tomorrow's a holiday."
Mira's eyes widened just for a second then she smiled.
"Of course," she replied softly.
She turned back, walking upstairs slowly, deliberately.
Ling was already waiting in her room doorway.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Mira stepped closer and opened her arms instinctively then stopped herself, realizing Ling hadn't moved yet.
Awkwardness hung between them.
Then Ling exhaled, almost annoyed at herself, and opened her arms.
Mira's smile softened immediately.
She stepped forward and hugged Ling gentle but grateful.
"Thank you," Mira whispered into her shoulder.
Ling didn't reply.
But she didn't pull away either.
Downstairs, Dadi cleared her throat knowingly.
Rina leaned toward Dadi and murmured,
"Holiday just got interesting."
Eliza smiled, unaware of the storm quietly forming upstairs.
And Ling, standing still in that hug, stared past Mira's shoulder
thinking of someone who wasn't there,
while holding someone who was.
Mira tilted her head, keys already in her hand.
"Long drive?" she asked softly.
Ling nodded once.
"Yeah."
Mira smiled relieved, hopeful and headed downstairs.
She stopped near Eliza.
"Ling's taking me for a drive," she said sweetly.
Eliza looked pleased.
"That's good. Get some air."
Mira glanced once toward the stairs, then stepped outside.
Ling didn't follow immediately.
She turned instead and walked toward Dadi's room.
Dadi was already seated, knitting lazily, like she'd been waiting.
Ling leaned against the doorframe.
Dadi didn't look up.
"So," she said dryly,
"what's this new drama? Seconds ago you were calling her a headache."
Ling sighed.
"I know."
Dadi finally looked at her, eyebrow raised.
"Then?"
Ling stepped inside, voice lower now.
"I realized something."
Dadi hummed.
"Oh? A miracle?"
Ling ignored the jab.
"Mira loves me," she said quietly.
"And I keep pushing her away."
Dadi's expression softened just a little.
Ling swallowed, words catching.
"And I love—"
She stopped herself.
"…you know. And you know."
Dadi didn't interrupt.
Ling continued, voice rough.
"I know how it feels when the person you love doesn't love you back."
She looked at her grandmother.
"I won't do that to her."
Dadi set the knitting aside.
"So what will you do?"
Ling straightened.
"I'll tell Mira the truth at every step," she said firmly.
"That she's my friend. Nothing more."
She paused.
"But I won't hurt her. I won't use her pain to fill my emptiness."
Dadi studied her face the restraint, the quiet resolve.
"That," Dadi said slowly,
"is the first mature decision you've made in days."
Ling let out a weak breath.
"It doesn't make it easier."
Dadi reached out and held her hand.
"No," she agreed.
"But it keeps you human."
Ling nodded.
Outside, a car engine started.
Ling turned toward the door.
Dadi added gently,
"Remember kindness doesn't mean confusion. Be clear."
Ling gave a small, grateful nod.
"I will."
She walked out.
And somewhere in the night air, the road waited
not to fix her heart,
but to prove she could protect someone else's
even while hers remained broken.
Ling stepped out into the driveway.
The night air was cold, sharp against her skin.
Mira was already seated in her own car, door open, one leg out, waiting. She looked up the moment she saw Ling.
Ling stopped near her.
"I'm not coming in your car," Ling said calmly.
Mira blinked.
"Oh."
Ling pointed slightly with her chin toward the far end of the driveway.
"We're going in mine."
Mira followed her gaze.
Parked under the lights was Ling's Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail deep black, polished like liquid night, untouched, perfect.
Mira's eyebrows lifted despite herself.
"That one?" she asked.
Ling nodded once.
"Yes."
Mira closed her car door slowly and smiled, trying not to show surprise.
"Okay," she said lightly.
"But… I thought you never let anyone stay near your things."
She hesitated, then added honestly,
"That's why I thought—"
Ling cut in quietly.
"That's why I chose it."
Mira stopped walking.
Ling turned to her fully now, her voice controlled, not cold just precise.
"I don't let people near my things," Ling said.
"Unless I trust them not to misunderstand it."
Mira swallowed.
They reached the Rolls-Royce.
As Ling walked around to the driver's side, Mira glanced at the interior the hand-finished details, the silence, the intimacy of the space. This wasn't just a car. It was Ling's boundary.
Ling slid into the driver's seat, started the engine. The car purred softly.
They drove out of the gates.
For a few minutes, there was only road noise and city lights passing.
Then Mira spoke, carefully.
"You didn't have to," she said.
Ling kept her eyes on the road.
"I didn't do it for you to feel special," Ling replied.
"I did it because I don't want you to read meanings that don't exist."
Mira's smile faltered slightly.
Ling continued, steady.
"You like me," she said plainly.
"And you're not wrong for that."