The restaurant had been chosen by PYang. It was small and clean, yet somewhat cramped, with wooden tables packed closely together. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, stirring the air into slow, warm currents. When they just settled into their chairs, Lin looked up and witnessed a scene with familiarity.
PYang handed a glass of ice water directly to Yeh. And He said:
"I know you don't like spice, so I ordered everything non-spicy for you."
His tone was so natural, as if this routine had been repeated a thousand times—requiring no confirmation, no explanation.
Yeh accepted the cup and smiled softly. "Thank you, PYang."
Her response was light and easy, devoid of any forced distance or pretense.
Lin's fingers tapped once, lightly, against the tabletop.
It took less than three seconds for Lin to notice the movement and stop herself, as if warning her own mind not to be swayed by trivial details. It wasn't that she didn't care; she was simply good at making her care appear as though it didn't exist.
Lin knew her own character well: the more interested she became, the more she would hold back, retreating slightly to maintain an air of ease and independence. It was her rhythm, the space she carved out for herself. But watching PYang and Yeh now threw that rhythm slightly off balance.
The ease between PYang and Yeh was undeniable. It didn't look like the dynamic of friends who had just reconnected; it felt deeper, rooted in time and shared long history. The way he handed her things, ordered for her, the intimacy in his voice—it all silently confirmed one thing: there was a past between them.
Lin rarely allowed herself to be affected by such things, yet in that moment, a strange, unsettling feeling surfaced. It was the sudden realization that a place she thought might be hers... wasn't hers yet.
Lin couldn't help asking herself: Have I truly not entered her world at all?
The thought was faint, but it lingered.
Halfway through the meal, PYang said something that made Yeh laugh out loud.
Usually, her laughter was contained, carefully measured to stay within safe boundaries. But this time, she was truly relaxed. Her eyes curved into crescents, her shoulders dropped, and for the first time, she seemed to let her guard down completely.
Lin watched her, and that faint, prickly sensation began to rise steadily within her chest.
She is this close to him?
She laughs so freely here.
Then why... why is she so guarded and careful when she is around me?
The contrast was stark, and Lin's gaze lingered on Yeh a second longer than necessary.
In that split second, a thought she hadn't anticipated leaped into her mind:
Does she... actually like men?
The question was abrupt, illogical even, which startled her.
Did I misread everything?
Is she more drawn to people who are familiar, people who are more active?
Lin rarely doubted her own judgment. Based on their conversation on New Year's Eve, the pauses, the subtle cues she had caught, she had been certain. She believed what she saw clearly, and she had already formed a conclusion about where this was heading.
But seeing Yeh sitting there beside PYang, that certainty cracked for the first time.
This uncertainty sat uncomfortably with her. She was the type of person who, once she set her sights on someone, she instinctively believed their eyes would eventually turn toward her too. It wasn't arrogance, simply a quiet confidence.
Yet now, for the first time, she acknowledged a hard truth:
Maybe it wasn't guaranteed.
Maybe their paths weren't destined to cross after all.
And with that realization an emotion she wasn't used to feeling came—
Insecurity.
Still, none of this showed on her face. She was too skilled at masking these moments.
Her expression remained smooth as water, unruffled. Her tone, her pace, her smile—everything stayed exactly the same. To the outside world, she was still the same carefree, untouchable Lin, unaffected by anything or anyone.
She would never admit it, but for that instant, it stung.
It wasn't exactly jealousy; it felt more like a wry observation.
So, this is how you play too.
Are you trying to test me?
She didn't call it out, and she didn't react.
She simply tucked that flicker of emotion away, letting it settle deep inside. And just like that, she continued sitting there, as if nothing had happened at all.