On the other side of the city, Rhea stood near the living room window, phone still warm in her hand after the call ended.
Kane had sounded unusually decisive.
"I'll be back in the morning," Kane had said. "My colleague's son is coming. We'll have meetings there, and he'll be staying with us for a few months."
Rhea had frowned immediately. "Staying… here?"
"Yes," Kane replied calmly. "He'll be joining your university as well. Same campus."
The words sat wrong in Rhea's chest.
"Why does he have to live with us?" she asked, unable to hide her discomfort.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line just long enough to signal authority.
"It's temporary," Kane said. "And necessary."
Rhea opened her mouth to argue. She hated sudden changes. She hated strangers in her space. She hated the idea of someone new watching her routines, her silences, her life.
But then another thought slid in quietly.
Tonight.
She looked down the hallway that led to her room. Thought of the window. Thought of Ling.
So she swallowed the argument.
"Oh," Rhea said instead, carefully neutral. "Okay."
Kane seemed satisfied. "Be good. I'll see you in the morning."
The call ended.
Rhea stayed still for a moment longer, phone lowered slowly, her reflection faint in the glass.
She exhaled.
She didn't like the idea of someone new staying in the mansion — especially someone from Kane's world, someone who would observe, question, linger.
But tonight mattered more.
She told herself it was just coincidence. Just timing.
And if Kane was gone tonight, Ling could come without tension, without shadows watching from the corridor, without whispered questions.
Rhea moved through the house, checking things instinctively the doors, the lights, the quiet corners. The staff had already retired to their quarters. The mansion felt unusually still.
She went to her room and closed the door softly behind her.
The lamps were already on, casting warm light across the space. Everything looked exactly how she'd left it neat, prepared, waiting.
Rhea sat on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting together briefly before she forced them still.
Ling had said yes.
That thought alone steadied her.
She glanced at the window again, heart picking up just slightly, anticipation outweighing the unease Kane's words had left behind.
Whatever tomorrow brought new people, new complications could wait.
Tonight was hers.
And she intended to hold onto it.
She locked her door and leaned against it for a moment, breathing in slowly, like she was steadying herself before something sacred.
She crossed the room and began, piece by piece, turning the familiar space into something else something intentional.
First, the lights.
She turned off the harsh ceiling lamp and switched on the smaller ones instead warm-toned table lamps placed deliberately at opposite corners of the room. The light softened instantly, pooling gently instead of flooding the space. Then she plugged in the string lights she'd hidden away for weeks.
Tiny golden bulbs lined the headboard, draped carefully so they didn't look messy just enough glow to frame the bed like a quiet constellation. Another string traced the edge of the window, the glass reflecting the lights back, doubling their warmth.
Next came the flowers.
Rhea opened the wardrobe drawer where she'd hidden them earlier. Fresh lilies and pale roses Ling's favorites, though Ling had never explicitly said so. Rhea noticed things like that. She trimmed the stems herself, arranging them in two simple glass vases.
One went on the bedside table.
The other she placed near the window close enough that the night breeze would carry their scent into the room.
Subtle. Not overwhelming.
Then the bed.
She smoothed the sheets carefully, changing them to the darker set deep neutral tones that made the lights glow warmer by contrast. She placed extra pillows neatly, not too many, just enough to make the bed look inviting instead of staged.
At the foot of the bed, she laid out a soft throw blanket, folded with precision.
Rhea stepped back, assessing, then adjusted it again. Just right.
She moved to the desk next.
She cleared everything unnecessary books stacked neatly to one side, papers tucked away. In the center, she placed a small tray with two glasses and a bottle she'd chosen carefully, something light. Nothing celebratory in excess just symbolic.
Beside it, she placed a small box.
Plain. No ribbons. No shine.
The ring inside wasn't loud either simple, elegant, chosen because it felt like Ling, not because it demanded attention.
Rhea's fingers hovered over the box for a second before she closed it again.
"Later," she whispered to herself.
She lit the candles last.
Only a few unscented, tall, placed where they wouldn't drip or distract. Their flames flickered softly, shadows dancing along the walls in a way that felt alive but calm.
The room changed completely.
It no longer looked like a student's bedroom.
It looked like a decision.
Rhea stood in the middle of it all, heart beating a little too fast now, nerves finally catching up. She sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap.
She imagined Ling walking in through the window like she always did.
Imagined the pause.
The glance around the room.
The way Ling's sharp composure would soften — just a fraction.
Rhea smiled to herself.
Tonight, she was going to say it first.
No games.
No fear.
No revenge.
Just truth.
She stood in front of the mirror for a long moment before touching anything.
The room behind her glowed softly lights warm, candles steady, flowers breathing faintly but she was still in her everyday clothes, like she hadn't earned the atmosphere yet.
She reached for the dress she had hidden at the back of the wardrobe.
Deep charcoal-black, almost matte, with a quiet sheen that only showed when the light hit it right.
The front was deceptively simple fitted, elegant, hugging her curves without screaming for attention. The neckline was modest, controlled. The fabric flowed smoothly over her body, heavy enough to fall perfectly, light enough to move when she did.
The back was another story.
Completely backless.
The fabric dipped low, exposing her spine, the soft curve of her waist, the small hollow just above her hips. Thin straps crossed at the top, barely there, like an afterthought. It was deliberate. Confident. Intimate.
Rhea slipped out of her clothes slowly, folding them neatly and placing them aside. Her movements were careful, almost ceremonial. This wasn't about seduction not entirely.
This was about intention.
She stepped into the dress, pulling it up inch by inch, smoothing the fabric over her hips, her waist, her chest. When she turned around, the mirror reflected her bare back framed by candlelight.
Her breath hitched.
For a second, doubt crept in sharp and unwanted.
What if this was too much?
What if Ling saw it and misunderstood?
Rhea swallowed and lifted her chin.
Ling had seen her strength.
Her defiance.
Her fear.
She deserved to see this too.
She tied her hair next not up, not loose. Half tied, the top secured so her neck and shoulders were exposed, the rest falling freely down her back in soft waves. Just enough restraint. Just enough abandon.
She chose minimal jewelry.
Small studs in her ears.
The waist chain stayed resting low, subtle against her skin.
The navel piercing caught the light faintly when she moved.
No necklace. Nothing to distract from her bare back.
She applied makeup lightly clean skin, defined eyes, lips softened with maroon lipstick. Nothing dramatic. She didn't want to look like she was performing.
Rhea stepped back again, assessing.
She turned sideways. Adjusted the strap slightly. Smoothed the fabric once more over her hips. The dress moved with her perfectly, like it had been waiting for this body, this night.
Her phone buzzed once on the bed.
She didn't check it.
Instead, she walked to the window and glanced outside. Night had fully settled now. The garden lights below glimmered faintly. Somewhere out there, Ling was on her way unaware, confident, teasing as always.
Rhea pressed her palm lightly to her chest, feeling her heart racing.
She turned back to the room, candles flickering, lights glowing, everything ready.
And finally, she sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to crease the dress, hands resting on her thighs, posture straight but not rigid.
Waiting.
The window slid open without a sound.
Ling moved with practiced ease, boots finding the familiar ledge, fingers gripping the frame as she pulled herself inside. The room was darker than usual not shadowed, but softened. Warm light instead of sharp. Gold instead of white.
She froze the moment her feet touched the floor.
Rhea was standing near the window, back turned, completely unaware.
Ling saw her back first.
Bare.
Exposed from shoulder blades down to the gentle curve above her waist, skin glowing under the string lights like it belonged there. The thin straps of the dress crossed high, uselessly, doing nothing to hide how open she was. The fabric hugged Rhea's hips perfectly, falling clean and elegant, the kind of restraint that only made the reveal sharper.
Ling didn't breathe.
For a second, the world narrowed to that single line Rhea's spine, straight and unguarded.
Her instinct was possession.
In the way something precious makes your chest tighten because you suddenly understand what losing it would mean.
Ling straightened slowly, eyes tracing details without permission. The way Rhea's hair fell just enough to brush her shoulder blades. The faint movement of her breath. The stillness like she was waiting, but refusing to look because if she did, it would become real.
Ling finally spoke, voice low, careful.
"…You look change."
Rhea stiffened.