Chapter 29 - More Than Just Like

Orm, in one of her more playful moods, decides to pay a "visit" to Lingling while she studies in the law library. In reality, she's there to distract her—or at least hover in her vicinity. She has little interest in heavy legal texts, but she has a growing interest in Lingling's reactions.

The library is a familiar space: tall shelves crammed with thick law books, a hushed silence broken only by the scratch of pens and the soft rustle of pages. Lingling sits at a long wooden table, books arranged in a neat semi-circle, her laptop open to a case study. She looks every bit the disciplined law student: posture straight, hair neatly tied back, eyes on her notes.

Orm slips into the seat next to her with a dramatic sigh, letting her notebook and pen clatter loudly onto the table. A few nearby students glance up irritably at the noise but quickly return to their own work.

Lingling doesn't look up from her reading, though Orm catches the faint twitch of her lips.

"You're not studying," Lingling murmurs in a low voice. "You're just here to annoy me."

Orm folds her arms on the table, leaning forward. "Annoying you?" she echoes, eyes dancing with mischief. "Or making your life more exciting?"

Lingling finally casts her a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "You call this exciting?"

Orm grins. "Better than you falling asleep on your statutes," she teases.

They lapse into a measured silence, with Orm occasionally nudging Lingling's elbow or sighing dramatically as though she's bored out of her mind. Lingling tries to maintain focus on her text, but Orm's presence keeps pulling her gaze away.

Without warning, Lingling reaches out and adjusts the small pendant on Orm's necklace—a small gesture that speaks of their growing familiarity. The casual intimacy of it sends Orm's pulse fluttering.

"What was that for?" Orm asks quietly, her breath catching at Lingling's sudden touch.

Lingling realizes too late what she's doing. She reclaims her hand, eyes flicking away. "Your pendant was flipped. I was just—" She cuts herself off, a hint of pink creeping into her ears.

Orm notices the slight color rising on Lingling's cheeks. That's unusual. Lingling rarely gets flustered.

Maybe it's the quiet hush of the library, maybe it's the constant proximity.

Whatever it is, it makes Orm's chest feel warm and constricted all at once.

Lingling grumbles, looking back at her notes with forced indifference. "Never mind" she mumbles.

Orm bites her lip to hide a smile, because she caught how red Lingling's ears are. For a fleeting moment, Orm wonders why do I feel so warm inside? but she quickly shoves that question aside.

In the dorm's common area, Becky and May lounge on the sofa, flipping channels until they settle on a random late-night drama. Orm has been invited over for a casual hang-out, but she can't concentrate on the show. Her mind is elsewhere, replaying every millisecond of Lingling's tiny gesture in the library.

The way Lingling's fingers brushed her collarbone. The way her face softened—just a fraction—when she fiddled with Orm's necklace. The way Orm's heart hammered at that small display of care. Why does it matter so much? Orm wonders, restless on the sofa.

Becky eventually notices Orm's distant gaze and turns down the volume. "You're totally zoned out. Wanna share what's on your mind?" she prompts with a knowing grin.

May, snickering, jabs Orm's side. "Thinking about your lawyer girlfriend, hmm?"

At once, Orm's posture stiffens. "I am NOT," she snaps, too defensive for it to be believable.

Becky and May exchange pointed glances. "Sure. Right. So you're staring at the ceiling for fun," May deadpans.

Orm crosses her arms over her chest, grumbling, "I hate you both."

They let it go, returning to the drama with a shrug, but Orm's thoughts remain on Lingling.

Hours later, she heads home and climbs into bed, expecting exhaustion to knock her out. Instead, she lays awake, her mind returning to that moment in the library. She's never felt this giddy—and unsettled—about something so small.

"What if I..." She can't even finish the question in her head. If she admits she's completely fallen for Lingling... is that too big a leap? The idea both terrifies and excites her. Finally, she drifts into a fitful sleep, uncertain and maybe a little afraid of the answer.

Lingling sits propped against her headboard, phone in hand. She's reading through old texts from Orm—some silly, some serious, some that manage to be both at once. A slow smile curves Lingling's lips as she rereads a message Orm sent earlier that evening, complaining about Becky and May's never-ending teasing. Even reading it for the tenth time, Lingling still feels a flutter in her chest.

She glances at the time—well past midnight. Her mind swirls with memories: the club drama, the argument they had, the delicate makeup that led to Orm resting in her arms. But more than that, she remembers every teasing grin, every stolen kiss, every moment she's spent just quietly existing beside Orm.

"...This is a problem," Lingling whispers to the dark room. She sets her phone on the bedside table, staring at the ceiling as though it might offer guidance. The weight of her realization is like a slow, rolling wave—one she can't escape.

She thinks about how easily Orm can make her laugh or how Orm's sleepy face in the morning is the cutest thing she's ever seen. She thinks about how her jealousy flared up like never before.

And she thinks about her own heart, which clenches painfully whenever Orm seems too far away.

It hits her with startling clarity: I love her.

The second she acknowledges the word "love," a ripple of shock courses through her.

She's never loved anyone this way before—never opened herself to such an emotional storm.

Lingling sits up abruptly, heart racing.

"What do I do now?" She wants to tell Orm, to hold her and confess everything. But the thought of exposing herself so completely terrifies her. For the first time in her methodical, controlled life, Lingling feels truly out of her depth.

"Not yet," she mutters to the empty room, fingers tightening in the blanket. She needs time to process, to plan how she'll handle these feelings. But deep down, she knows there's no perfect plan for love.

Lingling arrives on campus determined to keep her composure. The knowledge of her own feelings weighs on her, making her chest feel tight. She worries that if she meets Orm's eyes for too long, she'll accidentally blurt out I love you right then and there.

So she avoids that risk by keeping her distance. If she sees Orm headed down the hallway, she ducks into a side corridor, pretending to look at her phone.

When Orm tries to flirt, Lingling barely reacts.

Orm immediately senses something's off. During a break between lectures, she corners Becky and May near the vending machines, voice hushed with frustration. "Something is wrong with Lingling."

Becky shrugs. "She's always kinda like that."

Orm shakes her head adamantly. "No, this is new. She's weird-weird. Suspicious-weird."

May sips her drink. "Maybe she realized something."

Orm frowns. "Realized what?"

Becky smirks. "You'll figure it out," she says with maddening confidence. Orm walks away, muttering about how she hates cryptic friends. A knot of worry forms in her stomach—why is Lingling backing away now, of all times?

By the time Lingling finally musters enough courage to see Orm, it's late. They end up attempting to watch a movie in Orm's living room. The atmosphere is tense—the sofa feels too large, yet they sit close enough that their arms brush occasionally. Every contact is electrified, like a static charge just waiting to discharge.

Orm can't take the weird silence anymore. Partway through the film, she pauses it. "Ling... what's going on with you?" she asks softly, looking at Lingling with a mix of concern and confusion.

Lingling's heart thuds in her chest. She's toying with the idea of coming clean—just spitting out the truth. I love you. I love you so much I can't think straight. But the words are stuck.

In a voice barely above a whisper, Lingling forces out a half-lie. "Nothing."

Orm narrows her eyes, shifting on the couch until she's facing Lingling more directly. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you sure everything's okay?"

Lingling draws a sharp breath, her mind screaming at her to just say it. But she panics. She can't form the words I love you. She's not ready for that leap. So instead, she mumbles the first excuse that comes to mind. "I need to go home."

Orm blinks, startled. "What? Now?"

Already standing, Lingling frantically gathers her bag, avoiding Orm's worried gaze. "Yes. I just—I forgot something."

Orm stands too, moving to block the door. "Ling, talk to me. Did I do something?" Her voice is tinged with anxiety.

Lingling's heart twists. She so desperately wants to explain that no, Orm didn't do anything wrong. It's her who's in turmoil, she's the one who can't handle this avalanche of emotion. She shakes her head, maybe too quickly. "No. I just—I need to go."

In a split second, she slips past Orm and heads out, leaving Orm gaping in confusion.

The door closes behind Lingling, and Orm stands there, the echo of her footsteps ringing in the corridor.

Lingling rushes back to her own apartment, heart pounding, hands trembling as she locks the door behind her. Leaning against the wood, she struggles to slow her breathing. "Not yet," she whispers again, tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. She's so sure of what she feels, but the vulnerability is daunting.

Meanwhile, back at Orm's place, Orm practically collapses onto the couch with a groan, pressing her hands against her eyes. "Why is she acting like I proposed marriage or something?" Orm mutters to the empty room. She replays their recent interactions in her head—Lingling's sudden reticence, the closeness that nearly led to a confession, then Lingling bolting out the door.

Then, a single terrifying thought jabs Orm's mind: What if she's pulling away because she realized I'm not enough? But that train of thought quickly derails, replaced by another:

Oh my god.

It slams into her like a force she can't deny. She remembers how her heart soared when Lingling touched her necklace, how her stomach flipped at the mere idea of Lingling's interest in someone else. She's not just thrilled to be around Lingling—she's deeply, terrifyingly, helplessly in love with her.

"This is insane," Orm whispers, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. There's a rush of exhilaration and panic. Does Lingling feel the same? Is that why she's acting so weird now? Or is she about to leave, realizing Orm's feelings are too intense?

Orm has no answers, only the mounting realization that they've both reached a point where deeper feelings can't be ignored. They've swum in flirtation, waded through jealousy, and survived near-breakups. Now, love stares them in the face.

And neither of them knows how to say it first.

Orm stares at her phone, tempted to text Lingling. But the words I love you stick in her throat. She's not ready to risk rejection, not yet. With a bitter sigh, she sets the phone aside and drags herself to bed, hoping she'll find a way to handle tomorrow.

Campus courtyard, afternoon. Orm sits alone on a bench, gazing vacantly into the distance. She's not daydreaming, not even sulking—just absent. Namtan notices from across the courtyard and marches over, dropping onto the bench beside her.

"Hey," Namtan says, giving Orm a casual once-over. "What did you do to my best friend?"

Orm blinks, as though waking from a trance. "...What?"

"Lingling," Namtan clarifies, raising an eyebrow. "She's acting weird."

Orm stiffens. That's exactly what she doesn't want to hear. Forcing a shrug, she replies, "Define weird."

Namtan tilts her head, studying Orm's posture. "She seems... distracted," she says. "Like something's bothering her."

Orm's stomach lurches. In her current frazzled state of mind, that translates into one thing: Lingling is getting tired of her. The thought makes her heart sink.

"I don't know," Orm mutters, looking away. And the fact that she truly doesn't know terrifies her more than anything else.

Economics lecture hall, later that day. Orm sits in a crowded row, notes spread out in front of her, but she's far from focused. The professor's voice drones on, something about supply curves and market equilibrium, but all Orm can think about is how Lingling has seemed distant lately: fleeing Orm's apartment in a hurry, cutting short their usual banter, and ignoring the usual flirtation.

She taps her pen restlessly against the edge of her notebook, thoughts circling: "What if she's over me? What if she's realized this isn't what she wants? What if—"

Suddenly, she shuts the notebook with a loud snap. The classmate beside her jumps.

"You okay?" the classmate whispers, concerned.

"Totally," Orm forces out, plastering on a shaky smile. She is anything but okay.

Campus café. Orm, arms crossed, sits at a small table with a sullen expression. Becky and May exchange glances before setting down their drinks and joining her.

Becky leans forward. "Alright, spill."

Orm sighs dramatically. "I think Lingling is losing interest."

Becky nearly chokes on her coffee. May's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Wait, what?" May says slowly.

Orm grumbles, "She's acting weird, distant. She's not flirting back at all anymore."

Becky frowns. "And that means... she's over you?"

"Yes!" Orm insists. "She's obviously getting bored and moving on or something."

Becky and May share a pointed look. Becky finally presses her fingers against her temples. "Orm, you're an idiot."

Orm bristles. "Excuse me?"

May sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Orm, come on. You really think Lingling's the type to just... get bored and vanish?"

Orm hesitates. She knows, deep down, that this doesn't match Lingling's usual behavior. But her anxious mind isn't letting it go.

May tries another angle. "Alright, suppose you're right. Suppose she's losing interest. What are you gonna do about it?"

"...Huh?" Orm asks, momentarily caught off guard.

Becky smirks, leaning back. "If you think she's slipping away, are you just gonna watch it happen?" She taps a finger on the table. "Or are you going to do something about it?"

Orm stiffens. She remembers how hard she's fought for Lingling already. Letting her go isn't an option. Slapping her palms against the tabletop, she says firmly, "I am NOT losing her."

"Now that's the spirit, Princess," Becky says with a grin. May shoots Orm a supportive smile.

"Go remind your lawyer girlfriend why she fell for you," May adds.

A determined glint shines in Orm's eyes. "Oh, I will."

That evening, in Orm's apartment. Orm paces the floor, jaw set in concentration as she thinks about how to win Lingling back from this strange distance. She stops by the couch, grabbing her phone, heart pounding as she opens Lingling's chat.

"All right. Time to do this," she mutters, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she begins typing:

Hey, I feel like we haven't spent much time together lately.

Let's fix that.

Dinner tomorrow. My treat.

Wear something nice. ;)

Orm stares at the message, mouth going dry. Then she presses send.

A moment later, her phone buzzes with an immediate reply:

Okay. I'll pick you up at 7.

Relief floods Orm, along with a triumphant smile. Lingling may be acting distant, but she's clearly still responsive—maybe even eager beneath whatever she's hiding. And for Orm, that's enough of a green light to move forward.

"Lingling might be weird," Orm murmurs, sinking onto the couch and hugging a pillow, "but she answered instantly." A grin spreads across her face. "Game on."

Because if Lingling really is pulling away, Orm will pull her right back in. She's not about to sit by and lose the one person who's ever made her heart pound this hard. And tomorrow?

Tomorrow she'll show Lingling exactly why she's worth sticking around for.