Ling's breath left her lungs in one sharp gasp. Her eyes flew open, wide with shock.
For a heartbeat, time snapped.
Ling didn't move.
Didn't respond.
Didn't push her away.
Her hands hovered in the air, unsure like touching back would break something irreversible.
Rhea pulled away just as abruptly.
Their faces were inches apart. Both breathing hard.
Ling's voice came out hoarse. "What the hell was that?"
Rhea's lips trembled anger, not weakness. "That was me shutting you up."
Ling laughed under her breath broken, disbelieving. "You think that worked?"
Rhea released her collar and stepped back. "Now you listen."
Ling stood slowly, eyes dark, pulse visible at her neck.
"You don't want the ring because you bent it," Rhea said. "You want it because you can't stand that something mine you are losing."
Ling snapped, "You don't know what I can't stand."
Rhea shot back, "Then stop kneeling."
Silence crashed between them again.
Ling closed the box with a sharp click.
Her voice was cold now rebuilt. "Wear it or don't. I__ ii _ don't care."
Rhea's eyes glistened. "You care too much. That's the problem."
Ling turned away but her hand clenched so tight her knuckles whitened.
She walked off without looking back.
Rhea stood alone by the bench, heart racing, fingers brushing her own lips angry at herself, angry at Ling, angry that for one reckless second…
Ling didn't pull away.
And Ling walking down the corridor touched her mouth once, briefly, like checking if it was real.
Her breath still hadn't fully come back.
And that scared her more than anything.
Ling didn't realize she was smiling until her cheeks burned.
She stopped in the empty corridor, hand still brushing her mouth like it had betrayed her. Then she laughed low, breathless, almost annoyed.
"Idiot," she muttered to herself.
She leaned back against the cold wall, eyes closing for a second. The image replayed — too close, too fast, too real. Her heartbeat refused to calm.
She pressed her forehead to the wall.
"Absolute fool," she whispered, laughing again, softer this time.
Rhea sat alone on the bench long after Ling disappeared.
Her anger faded first. Pride followed. What remained was something warm and stupid.
A small smile curved on her lips before she could stop it.
She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.
"Moron," she murmured to herself, not Ling.
Her heart still felt too loud in her chest.
Two different places.
Two stubborn souls.
Same warmth. Same foolishness.
Both convinced they were winning.
Both losing control.
Both fools and neither willing to admit it.
Back in class, Ling dropped into her seat with a sharp scrape of the chair, jaw tight, knuckles still warm from things she refused to name.
Rina glanced at her once and sighed. "Don't start."
Ling leaned closer anyway, voice low and dangerous. "Plan. How do I get the ring back."
Rina didn't even look impressed. She flipped her pen between her fingers. "You don't."
Ling's head snapped toward her. "What do you mean I don't?"
"I mean," Rina said calmly, finally meeting her eyes, "you're acting like a teenager fighting over a bracelet. Forget it."
Ling scoffed. "I don't fight over things I don't want."
Rina raised a brow. "Liar. You want that ring more than you want air right now."
Ling opened her mouth, then shut it, irritated. "It's not about the ring."
"Sure," Rina said dryly. "And I'm the campus saint."
Ling leaned back, crossing her arms. "I just need one move. One clean move. I'll win."
Rina smirked. "You already lost the moment you knelt."
Ling shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Say that again. And how do you know?"
Before Rina could reply, Mira leaned in from the other side, voice soft, teasing. "Ling… you look tense. Want help relaxing?"
That was it.
Ling's chair screeched as she shoved Mira back without even looking at her, eyes blazing. "Don't touch me."
Mira stumbled, catching the desk behind her. "What's wrong with you?"
Ling turned then, expression cold, lethal. "Everything."
The class went silent.
Rina exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple. "Great. Queen's in one of those moods."
Ling's gaze drifted, uninvited, to the back of the room to where Rhea sat, unreadable, untouched.
Ling looked away instantly, jaw tightening again.
"Plan later," Ling muttered. "I'll get it back."
Rina watched her for a second longer and said under her breath, "Yeah. From yourself."
The café buzzed with noise laughter, cutlery clinking, people whispering Ling Kwong's name like it was a habit. Ling sat sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, coffee untouched in front of her.
Rina, Jian, Rowen, Mira her usual circle. Power at one table.
Ling's eyes weren't on any of them.
They drifted, uninvited, to a memory a bent ring, warm skin, a kiss that shouldn't have happened.
I'll steal it, she thought suddenly, sharp and instinctive.
Just take it. End it.
Her jaw tightened.
Then she scoffed internally and leaned back further.
Pathetic.
She shook her head once, as if shaking the thought out.
Rina noticed immediately. "What are you thinking."
Ling didn't answer.
Rina nudged her foot against Ling's shin. "Hey. Queen. I asked you something."
Ling blinked, eyes refocusing. "Nothing."
Rina's lips curved slowly. "That's never true."
Ling took a sip of coffee she didn't want. "You're imagining things."
Jian leaned forward, smirking. "She's thinking about committing a crime."
Ling shot him a glare. "You talk too much."
Rowen laughed. "She's been quiet since the locker room."
Mira tried to lean closer again, softer this time. "Is it about R—"
Ling slammed her cup down. Not loud enough to cause a scene, but enough to end the sentence.
"Don't," Ling said flatly.
The table went still.
Rina studied her for a moment, then said calmly, "You thought about stealing the ring, didn't you."
Ling's eyes flickered just for a second.
Rina sighed. "And you stopped yourself."
Ling leaned forward now, elbows on knees, voice low. "I don't steal what's mine."
Rina raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words."
Ling snapped back instantly. "Don't start."
"I'm not," Rina said. "I'm observing."
Mira scoffed. "It's just a ring."
Ling's head turned slowly toward her, eyes cold.
Mira swallowed. "I—I meant—"
Ling leaned back again, dismissive. "Exactly."
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
Ling's fingers curled unconsciously, as if remembering the feel of metal, skin, warmth. She hated that her body remembered before her mind allowed it.
Rina softened her tone slightly. "You're not winning this by force."
Ling let out a humorless laugh. "I don't lose."
Rina met her gaze. "You already did. You just won't admit where."
Ling stood abruptly. "I'm done here."
Jian blinked. "You barely ate."
Ling grabbed her jacket. "Lost my appetite."
As she walked away, Rina watched her go, murmuring just loud enough for the table to hear:
"She didn't steal the ring," Rina said.
"Because if she did… she'd have to admit why she wanted it so badly."
Ling didn't turn back.
She saw her before she could stop herself.
Rhea stepped into the café, hair loose, eyes tired, posture guarded like someone who had learned how to walk through fire without flinching. Laughter around them dulled for Ling, the room narrowing to that one presence she kept pretending didn't exist.
Ling's jaw tightened.
She didn't see me.
She won't.
Rina looked up. "Where are you—"
"Locker," Ling cut in, already walking away.
She didn't look back.
The corridor outside the café felt colder. Quieter. Ling's footsteps echoed too loud, like the building itself was aware of what she was about to do.
Just take it.
Just see if it's there.
She reached the locker room, empty at this hour. Her hands moved on instinct — Rhea's locker number was burned into her memory in ways she hated.
Click.
The door opened.
Ling froze for half a second, breath caught in her throat, like she'd just crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
She opened Rhea's bag.
Her fingers trembled not fear, not guilt need.
And then she saw it.
The bent navel ring.
Still slightly warped. Still imperfect. Still exactly how she remembered leaving it.
Ling's chest tightened so violently she had to grip the locker door to steady herself.
"Idiot," she whispered but she didn't know whether she meant the ring, Rhea, or herself.
She picked it up carefully, like it might shatter.
Her thumb brushed over the bent curve.
Memory hit her all at once warmth, closeness, trust she hadn't deserved to lose this way.
Her throat burned.
Before she could stop herself, Ling lifted the ring and pressed it to her lips.
A soft, broken kiss.
Private.
Almost reverent.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered to something that couldn't answer. "I swear I didn't."
Her eyes shut.
For one second just one she let herself feel it.
Then reality slammed back in.
Footsteps.
Voices down the hall.
Ling's eyes snapped open. She straightened instantly, expression snapping back into place like armor.
She dropped the ring back into Rhea's bag exactly where it had been fingers lingering half a second too long.
"Stupid," she muttered again, this time with anger.
She shut the locker softly, as if noise itself might accuse her.
As Ling turned to leave, her face was cold again. Controlled. Untouchable.
But her chest still hurt.
——
Back in the café, Rhea sat unaware, staring at her untouched drink, fingers tapping restlessly against the table like something important had just been disturbed and she didn't know why.
Ling checked the corridor again.
Empty.
No voices. No footsteps. No witnesses.
Her breath slowed, then hitched.
She turned back to the locker like she'd been pulled by something older than sense.
One more second.
She opened the bag again.
The ring sat there waiting. Bent. Silent. Accusing.
Ling picked it up, this time without hesitation.
"This is mine," she said under her breath, like a claim, like a lie she needed to believe.
She slid her wallet out of her pocket.
It opened to the same place it always did.
Rhea's photo.
Creased at the corners. Folded and unfolded too many times. Rhea laughing in it careless, unaware, alive in a way Ling hadn't seen since everything broke.
Ling's jaw clenched.
"Idiot," she whispered again, voice rough.
She placed the ring carefully behind the photo, pressing it flat, hiding it where no one ever looked except her.
Her fingers lingered there longer than they should have.
As she closed the wallet—
Footsteps.
Close.
Ling froze.
Her spine went rigid, every muscle locking in place. She didn't turn. Didn't breathe.
"Wow," a voice said behind her, light but sharp.
"You really are bad at lying."
Ling shut the locker slowly and turned.