Chapter 17 - The Truth

Orm slumped on a worn park bench, staring blankly at the avalanche of love letters stuffed into her locker. It was insane—like the moment she blurted out "Yeah, I'm single," the entire university lost its collective mind. The letters, the chocolates and a parade of admirers trailing behind her like lost puppies all conspired to overwhelm her. But deep down, what gnawed at her wasn't the public attention—it was Lingling. Despite the chaos and the uproar, Lingling still hadn't actually said how she felt. Orm now knew, painfully and undeniably, that she liked Lingling. In fact, she liked her so much it hurt, physically and emotionally. But Lingling played games and made snarky territorial remarks without ever uttering a true confession. And Orm? She was done waiting. If Lingling was going to keep playing these mind games, then Orm was going to fight back.

Orm hadn't seen this much attention since freshman year. Her locker was practically a shrine to her newfound "single" status and students left her tiny gifts at her usual study spots. Random admirers trailed her around campus, each one trying to spark a conversation. Becky and May were living for every moment of the drama.

Becky quipped, "Your downfall is the greatest thing to ever happen to this university."

May held up a crumpled love letter and added, "This guy even rhymed 'star' with 'heart'—I'm not sure if that's sweet or just desperate."

Orm groaned, "I don't WANT a love poem. I want peace."

Becky grinned mischievously, "Then maybe you shouldn't have announced you were single to the entire campus."

May chimed in, "Or maybe... someone should claim you properly."

That made Orm pause. Because, as much as she loathed the attention, there was something about Lingling's possessive, jealous air that hinted at more. And that, Orm decided, was about to change.

The charming senior from the business faculty reappeared, and this time he came bearing flowers—not just any bouquet, but a meticulously wrapped arrangement of white roses.

Becky nearly choked on her iced coffee.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S HAPPENING," she declared.

May smirked, "This is about to be a bloodbath."

Before Orm could muster a response, the senior smiled warmly and said, "Since you are single, I thought I'd take my chance properly this time."

Orm blinked, caught off guard by his directness—when she opened her mouth to reply,

BOOM: Lingling appeared.

The air shifted instantly. The hallway, previously buzzing with anticipatory energy, fell into a tense hush. Lingling strode up, eyes locked solely on Orm. She didn't even acknowledge the senior or his roses; she ignored the grand romantic gesture entirely. Instead, she fixed Orm with a steely gaze and, in the calmest, most professional tone imaginable, said, "Orm, do you need a legal representative? Because it seems like you're being harassed."

The senior's smile vanished in an instant. "Wait, what?" he stammered.

Lingling barely spared him a glance as she continued, "Persistent unwanted advances can be classified as harassment under certain conditions. Did you know that?"

The poor guy looked like he was about to faint. "I just... brought her flowers?" he mumbled.

Lingling's voice remained cool and detached, "And did she ask for them?"

With that, the senior took one step back, as if physically recoiling from a subpoena and Orm could hardly believe what she was witnessing. Lingling wasn't just playing hard to get—she was playing territorial, and she was doing it with the precision of a seasoned litigator.

Orm was shaking—not with fear, but with raw, seething rage. Lingling had just shooed the senior away like an annoying fly, leaving Orm's vulnerability on full display. In that moment, Orm's resolve snapped. Without a word, she lunged forward and grabbed Lingling's wrist.

The entire hallway gasped. Becky practically flew over to May, exclaiming, "OH MY GOD, SHE GRABBED HER!"

May, eyes wide, added, "Yes, get her, Orm!"

Orm's grip was firm, her heart pounding like a drum. "We need to talk. Now," she declared, dragging Lingling away from the prying eyes.

Lingling raised an eyebrow coolly, "Right now?"

"Right. Now," Orm insisted.

In a quiet corner away from the gawking crowd, Orm finally turned to face Lingling. Anger, frustration, and confusion radiated from her as she snapped, "Okay, you need to stop."

Lingling tilted her head in that trademark nonchalant way, "Stop what?"

Orm groaned, "Stop this—whatever game you're playing."

With a blink, Lingling responded, "I don't play games."

Orm stepped closer, her voice rising, "Really? Then tell me why you act so jealous, why you kiss me and then let me think I'm overreacting, why you scare off every admirer like you're my possessive fiancé!"

Lingling's lips twitched ever so slightly—a crack in her implacable mask. Orm saw it clearly: that tiny flicker of emotion confirmed what she already suspected. "You don't like it when other people get close to me, do you?" Orm whispered, her tone softening just a fraction.

Lingling said nothing for a long, excruciating moment, simply watching and calculating.

Then, with a slow exhale that was almost imperceptible, she finally spoke, "You want me to say something, Orm?"

She took a deliberate step forward. "Fine. I will," Lingling said, and in that moment, the air between them charged with raw, unspoken promises, Orm felt both terrified and strangely alive.

The air between them was so thick with tension, Orm felt like she could practically cut it with a butter knife. For the first time in weeks, she sensed she had the upper hand. Lingling wasn't her usual icy, unreadable self—no smirks, no haughty stroll away. Instead, Lingling hesitated. And Orm noticed every minuscule detail: the slight curl of Lingling's fingers at her sides, tightening for just a heartbeat. That tiny shift was all Orm needed.

Orm stepped closer—just a little—until Lingling froze in place. "You don't like it when other people get close to me, do you?" Orm said, her tone not so much a question as a pointed statement, a challenge hanging in the air. Lingling didn't blink. She didn't step back or deny it. That silence was pure, unadulterated proof that Orm was onto something.

Then, with the slow deliberation of someone reading a legal contract aloud, Lingling finally spoke. "No. I don't," she said in a steady, measured tone that made sure Orm caught every syllable. But Lingling wasn't finished. "I don't like it when other people get close to you," she continued. "I don't like watching you entertain confessions. I don't like hearing you say you're single. I don't like any of it."

Orm's stomach plummeted. This wasn't just Lingling being territorial—it wasn't a playful game. This was raw, real emotion. Lingling took a step forward, and suddenly they were so close that Orm could feel every subtle shift in Lingling's gaze. "And do you know why?" Lingling asked, her voice low and dangerous with sincerity.

Orm's heart pounded like a runaway drumline as she struggled to breathe. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sweater, and she swallowed hard. "Why?" she managed to whisper. Lingling exhaled slowly, as if to savor the moment before unleashing a secret that had been building for ages. Then, finally, she said, "Because I like you."

"Because I've liked you for a while now," Lingling continued, her tone softening yet remaining resolute. "Because watching you run around and make a complete mess of everything drives me insane—but I find it endearing. Because you make my life more complicated than it needs to be, but I don't want you to stop. Because you're you. And I don't want to stand aside and let someone else have you."

At that moment, Orm's brain seemed to short-circuit entirely. Her knees wobbled, her lungs felt as though they'd forgotten how to function properly. Lingling had just confessed—truly, irrevocably confessed—in a way that was neither casual nor a tease. She meant every word.

For the first time in her entire life, Orm was completely, utterly, and hopelessly speechless. She stared at Lingling as if trying to decode a secret language, her mind a jumble of disbelief. Becky and May, who had been eavesdropping from a safe distance, clutched each other as though witnessing the finale of a blockbuster drama.

"DID YOU HEAR THAT?" Becky whispered, wide-eyed.

"SHE FINALLY SAID IT—" May added, barely containing her excitement.

"Wow, she really said it..." Becky finished, grinning broadly.

Orm couldn't even process their murmurs; her mind was too busy trying to reboot after the emotional overload. When she finally managed to speak, her voice trembled, "You—you like me?"

Lingling's eyes sparkled with mischief as she blinked. "I thought that was obvious."

"IT WASN'T," Orm retorted, and Lingling let out the smallest, softest laugh—a sound so delicate yet filled with promise that it made Orm's chest feel inexplicably warm.

Lingling moved even closer, so near that Orm could feel the warmth radiating off her. Every subtle change in Lingling's expression, every tiny shift in her gaze, was magnified in that charged space. Then, Lingling reached out and brushed her fingertips against Orm's wrist—a touch so light it might have been mistaken for a whisper of air, yet one that sent shivers cascading through Orm's entire being.

"Orm," Lingling said softly, "I like you. I want you. And I'm done playing around."

In that instant, Orm's heart flipped, her body leaning forward as if being gently pulled in. Then, with a knowing smirk—the kind that had haunted their previous encounters—Lingling asked, "So, tell me—do you still want to fight back, or are you finally going to let me win?"

At that, Becky and May practically lost their minds.

"OH MY GOD—" Becky shrieked.

"I'M GOING TO DIE—" May added, half-laughing, half-sobbing with joy.

"She really said 'let me win' like it's a chess move!" Becky exclaimed.

Orm was completely, utterly, and hopelessly frozen. Her brain was on pause, her thoughts a jumbled mess, and she could barely remember how to breathe properly. Lingling had just confessed her feelings—plain and simple—and now it was Orm's turn to respond. But her mind, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment, could muster no reply.

In that instant of crushing vulnerability, with every pair of eyes on her and the air thick with anticipation, Orm was left to grapple with the unexpected truth: Lingling truly did care—and now, the battle for her heart was about to begin.