The whistle blew sharp across the ground.
Ling stood at center, jaw tight, fingers clenched inside her gloves. The crowd roared, but the sound felt distant, muffled like everything was underwater. Her eyes flicked once, unintentionally, toward the stands.
Rhea.
Sitting there.
Too close to Roin.
Too calm.
Ling's chest tightened.
"Kwong! Focus!" Rowen shouted from the sidelines.
Ling didn't answer.
The ball rolled toward her. She sprinted not with strategy, but fury. Her movements were aggressive, almost violent. She slammed into an opposing player shoulder-first.
WHISTLE.
Referee: "Hey! Watch it!"
Ling shot him a glare so sharp it silenced him for a second.
She didn't care.
The ball came again. Ling snatched it, passed forward brutally, cleats tearing into the grass. A defender tried to block her path.
Ling shoved her aside.
The crowd gasped.
Rina (under her breath): "She's not playing… she's breaking."
From the stands, Rhea stiffened.
Ling stole another pass, muscles burning, breath uneven. Sweat slid down her temple, but she didn't slow. She charged straight into two defenders.
One fell.
Another stumbled.
WHISTLE. WHISTLE.
Referee: "That's a warning, Kwong!"
Ling laughed short, hollow. "Then stop standing in my way."
She walked back to position, chest heaving. Her vision blurred for half a second. She shook her head hard, like she could shake the thoughts out.
Rhea laughed softly at something Roin said.
That sound
Something cracked.
Ling exploded forward again when the ball came. This time she didn't even aim for the goal. She slid reckless, dangerous taking out a player hard enough that both of them hit the ground.
The stadium went silent.
Referee: "KWONG! ONE MORE MOVE AND YOU'RE OUT!"
Ling pushed herself up, breathing ragged, eyes wild.
She looked at the stands again.
Rhea wasn't cheering.
Wasn't worried.
Wasn't looking at her.
Ling's throat closed. "I'm losing you…"
The next play started.
Ling ran but her steps were off. Too fast. Too angry. No rhythm. No control.
She missed a simple pass.
Missed again.
"Ling! don't Stop! You're okay!" shouted Rowen.
Ling didn't hear him.
Her head throbbed. The field tilted slightly. She pressed forward anyway, teeth clenched, forcing her body to obey.
"Just… one more…"
She sprinted.
The ball rolled uselessly across the grass.
Ling stood frozen for a second, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her temple. The crowd was silent first then confused murmurs rose like smoke.
"Kwong—?"
"What the hell—?"
"She missed again…?"
Ling's jaw clenched. Her hands curled into fists.
Another whistle blew.
Another chance.
Another miss.
Something inside her finally snapped.
She let out a raw shout, sharp and broken.
"ENOUGH!"
She grabbed the ball, slammed it hard onto the ground, then kicked it away, far past the boundary. The referee yelled her name, teammates rushed toward her, but Ling didn't look at anyone.
She turned.
Her eyes went instinctively to the audience.
Rhea.
Rhea was sitting beside Roin.
Close.
Too close.
Rhea wasn't shouting her name.
Wasn't running to her.
Wasn't even standing.
That was it.
Ling ripped the captain band off her arm and threw it on the ground.
"I'm done," she said hoarsely, more to herself than anyone else.
"Ling, what are you doing?!" the coach shouted.
"Kwong, get back here!" a teammate yelled.
Ling walked off the field in the middle of the match.
The stadium erupted gasps, chaos, disbelief.
Rhea's eyes were locked on Ling's retreating back. Her face was unreadable calm on the surface, war underneath.
Zifa whispered, "Rhea… that's Ling. She's breaking."
Rhea didn't answer.
Her fingers trembled once just once then stilled.
The door slammed shut.
Ling locked it, leaned her back against it, and slid down to the floor.
Her breath came out uneven.
"I'm losing her," she whispered.
She dragged a hand through her hair, eyes burning.
"I can fight teams. I can fight the world," she laughed bitterly, tears spilling now, "but I can't fight him."
She punched the locker beside her hard.
A sharp pain shot through her knuckles, but she welcomed it.
"Why does she let him touch her?" Ling choked.
"Why does she look at him like that?"
Her voice broke completely.
"What if one day she doesn't look at me at all?"
Ling buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.
Rina stood outside the door, hearing everything.
She didn't knock.
Rowen muttered behind her, unusually serious, "She's never left a match. Not once."
Jian crossed his arms. "This isn't anger. This is fear."
Rina closed her eyes.
"She thinks she's already lost Rhea."
The referee officially stopped the match.
Students whispered wildly.
Roin looked at Rhea again.
"You did that on purpose," he said quietly.
Rhea finally turned to him, eyes sharp.
"Yes."
Her voice was steady but her heart was not.
"She needs to feel it," Rhea said. "Just like I did."
Roin hesitated.
"And if she breaks completely?"
Rhea looked back at the empty field.
"…then I'll live with that."
But her fingers were clenched so tight her nails cut into her palm.
Because deep down, even now
she was terrified that Ling wouldn't come back.
The locker room door opened quietly.
Rina stepped in first. Jian behind her. Rowen last.
They stopped the moment they saw Ling's posture.
Rina spoke carefully.
"You walked off mid-match."
Ling didn't look up.
"I know."
Jian tried, softly.
"Ling… what happened out there?"
Ling exhaled a sharp breath through her nose.
"She didn't look at me."
Silence.
Rowen frowned.
"That's it?"
Ling's head snapped up.
"That's everything," she said coldly.
"Don't ever reduce it."
Rina swallowed. She moved closer but didn't touch.
"She's pretending with Roin," Rina said carefully. "You know that, right?"
Ling laughed again this time hollow.
"You think I don't know what pretending looks like?"
She stood abruptly, pacing again, hands restless.
"Pretending still hurts," Ling said.
"Pretending still chooses him in front of me."
She stopped, turning to them fully.
"Do you know what it means," she asked quietly,
"when someone stops hurting you on purpose?"
None of them answered.
"It means they don't care if you bleed anymore."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Rina stepped forward instinctively.
"Ling—"
"Don't," Ling said sharply.
Rina froze.
Ling dragged a hand down her face, breathing uneven now.
"I gave her everything," she said.
"I broke myself first so she wouldn't have to."
Her shoulders shook once just once.
"She didn't even take a second to stop me."
Jian looked away.
Rowen muttered, "Rhea's not that heartless."
Ling's eyes lifted slowly, dangerously.
"No," she agreed.
"She isn't."
Her voice dropped.
"That's how I know it's over."
Silence swallowed the room again.
Ling walked to her locker, opened it, stared at the inside like it might answer her.
"She's done fighting me," Ling said flatly.
"And Rhea Nior only stops fighting when she's already gone."
She shut the locker with a decisive clang.
Her face hardened something sealing back into place.
"If she wants distance," Ling said, voice controlled, emotion locked down with force,
"I'll give it."
Rina's chest tightened.
"That's not what you want."
Ling met her eyes.
"No," she said.
"But it's what she chose."
As she walked toward the door, she added almost to herself:
"I don't chase someone who's already let go."
The door closed behind her.
The locker room stayed silent long after.
——
The café was loud.
Cutlery clinked. Chairs scraped. Someone laughed too loudly near the window.
Rhea sat across from Roin.
Relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Roin slid her coffee toward her with a crooked smile.
"You ordered extra sugar again."
Rhea scoffed.
"I didn't. You probably mixed it wrong."
"I didn't touch it."
"You always touch things you shouldn't," she shot back.
Roin leaned forward, amused.
"You like it sweet."
Rhea rolled her eyes, laughing under her breath.
"Don't psychoanalyze my coffee."
She picked up the small cream packet, tore it open with her teeth, and leaned over his cup.
Her finger dipped into the foam.
She drew a heart.
Messy. Uneven. Careless.
Roin stared at it, stunned.
"…Is that for me?"
Rhea smirked.
"Don't get emotional. It's just foam."
She pushed the cup toward him.
"Drink before it melts."
Roin laughed, something warm and stupid in his eyes.
"Okay. But if I fall in love, that's on you."
Rhea shook her head, still smiling.
"Please. You'd fall in love with a mirror."
They were laughing.
That was the part that hurt.
Ling Kwong stood frozen near the entrance.
She hadn't meant to stop.
She had walked in to grab water, nothing more.
Then she saw it.
The heart.
The exact motion.
The way Rhea's finger curved instinctively.
Ling's chest tightened so sharply it felt like something inside her snapped clean.
That was mine.
The habit.
Ling remembered Rhea's cup remembered how she used to complain about bitter coffee and then drink it anyway because Ling ordered it.
Remembered the way Rhea had once looked up at her and said,
"You ruin perfectly good drinks."
Ling had smiled then.
Now she couldn't breathe.
Rhea tilted her head, teasing Roin again.
"You're staring. Drink."
Roin lifted the cup, still smiling like he'd been handed something precious.
Ling looked at his hands around the cup.
Her hands.
Her place.
Her stomach turned violently.
This wasn't performance.
This wasn't provocation.
This was ease.
Ling took a step back without realizing it.
Her boot scraped against the floor.
The sound cut through the café.
Rhea looked up.
Their eyes met.
For half a second, nothing existed except recognition.
Rhea's smile faltered just a fraction.
Ling didn't glare.
Didn't scowl.
She simply looked at Rhea the way someone looks at a door they know is closed.
Then Ling's gaze dropped to the cup.
To the heart.
Her jaw clenched.
She nodded once.
A quiet acknowledgment.
I see.
I understand.
Rhea's throat tightened.
Ling turned and walked out.
No pause.
No drama.
No looking back.
Outside, Ling leaned one hand against the wall.
Her breath came shallow.
She pressed her forehead to the cold stone.
"So that's how it ends," she murmured.
With laughter she no longer belonged to.
Ling straightened slowly.
Her face sealed back into control.
Inside the café, Rhea stared at the door long after Ling was gone.
The heart in the foam collapsed.
The private room was empty.
Too quiet.
Ling shut the door behind her and locked it.
The sound echoed.
She sat on the couch and stared at her hands.
They were shaking.
"No," she whispered, voice breaking despite herself.
She dragged a hand through her hair, breathing unevenly.
"She wouldn't—"
Her voice failed.
She bent forward, elbows on her knees.
Her shoulders caved in.
The first sob came out sharp and ugly, like it had been ripped out of her chest.
She pressed her fist to her mouth to silence it.
Didn't work.
Tears spilled, uncontrolled.
Her breathing fractured.
"I lost you," she said into the empty room, the words finally landing.
Not angry.
Not accusing.
Just devastated.
She slid down until her back hit the cold metal lockers.
Her forehead rested against her knees.
She cried there quietly, completely alone the kind of crying that doesn't expect anyone to come.
No squad.
No Dadi.
No Rhea.
Just the understanding settling in:
She was no longer the one Rhea chose to hurt for.
She was the one Rhea hurt past.
———
Classroom
Ling stayed serious the entire lecture.
No staring.
No reactions.
Her face was shut down so tightly it looked carved.
Rhea sat two rows ahead with Roin.
Close.
Too close.
Roin leaned in, whispering something near Rhea's ear.
Rhea didn't laugh this time. She just listened.
Ling kept her eyes on the board.
Don't look. Don't react.
Roin shifted again.
Closer.
His fingers lifted casual, familiar and brushed Rhea's jaw, thumb near her chin as if adjusting her face toward him.
That was it.
The chair screeched as Ling stood up.
Before anyone processed it, she was there.
Ling grabbed Roin by the collar and yanked him up halfway from his seat.
"Don't touch her," Ling shouted.
The room froze.
Pens stopped moving.
Someone gasped.
Roin's eyes widened, shocked more than angry.
"Ling—" he started.
Rhea stood up violently and shoved Ling back.
Hard.