"Ling," Jian started, alarmed. "Doctor said rest—"
"I need to go to the mansion," Ling said flatly.
Her eyes were already glassy, but she refused to let the tears fall. Her jaw was locked so tight it looked like it might crack.
Rina moved closer. "Ling, listen to me."
Ling grabbed her jacket from the chair, shrugging into it with jerky movements.
"She didn't care," Ling muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "She didn't even come. I fainted and she didn't even—"
"She came," Rowen blurted out.
The room went dead silent.
Ling turned slowly.
"What," she said.
Rowen winced. "I mean—"
Rina snapped, "Rowen, shut up."
Ling stepped closer to him, towering, her presence heavy despite her pale face.
"She came," Ling repeated. "Say it again."
Rowen looked helplessly at Rina. "She… she was here."
Ling's breath hitched just once. Barely noticeable. But Rina saw it.
"And then?" Ling demanded. "What did she say. What did she do."
Rina stepped between them. "She asked us not to tell you. And we're respecting that."
Ling laughed.
It was short. Sharp. Broken.
"Respecting," she echoed. "Since when do we respect what she wants when it comes to me."
Her shoulders trembled despite her effort to stay still.
"She didn't care," Ling said again, quieter now. "If she cared, she would've stayed. She would've waited. She would've—"
Her voice cracked.
She turned away abruptly, heading for the door.
Rina caught her wrist. "Ling."
Ling didn't look back.
"She asked us not to tell you," Rina said firmly. "If you go chasing her now, you'll destroy whatever boundary she's barely holding together."
Ling yanked her hand free.
"There is no boundary," Ling snapped. "There is just her leaving. Again."
Rowen spoke cautiously. "Maybe she was scared."
Ling's eyes flicked to him, dangerous. "Scared of what. Me?"
No one answered.
Ling grabbed her keys from the table.
"I'm going home," she said. "If she didn't come because she didn't care, then fine. I'll live with it."
Her voice dropped, raw and exposed.
"If she didn't come because she couldn't… then I'll still live with it."
She paused at the door, her back to them.
"But don't lie to me again," she said quietly. "I can survive hate. I can't survive hope."
She left.
The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded louder than any slam.
Inside the room, silence followed.
Rowen rubbed his face. "We're dead."
Rina stared at the closed door, her expression tight.
"She asked us not to tell her," Rina said again, but this time it sounded less like certainty and more like doubt.
Jian exhaled slowly. "And Ling asked where she was."
Rina closed her eyes.
Outside, Ling walked down the corridor alone, wiping at her eyes angrily, jaw clenched already convincing herself of the only lie that let her keep moving:
She didn't care.
She went to mansion. Didn't even look at Victor or Eliza properly when she entered the mansion.
Her steps were heavy, slower than usual not dramatic, not arrogant. Just tired.
Dadi noticed instantly.
Victor was saying something about university, Eliza sat stiffly beside him, but Ling cut through it all with a quiet, broken sentence.
"Dadi… I want to talk to you. Alone."
The room stilled.
Victor frowned slightly. Eliza looked up, surprised — Ling never asked for privacy like that.
Dadi stood without a word.
"Come," she said gently.
Victor and Eliza watched them disappear down the corridor, both sensing the shift immediately the way Ling's shoulders were rigid, the way her steps were too fast, too deliberate, like she was outrunning something chasing her from inside.
The moment they entered Ling's room, Ling locked the door.
The click echoed louder than it should have.
She didn't even turn around.
Instead, she walked straight to the bed, knees giving out, and sank down. Her hands trembled violently. Before Dadi could ask a single question, Ling leaned forward and dropped her head into Dadi's lap like a child who had finally lost the strength to stand tall.
And then she cried.
Not silently.
Not gracefully.
She cried the way people cry when they've held it in too long broken, choking sobs that tore out of her chest as if her ribs were splitting apart.
Dadi froze for a second.
Then her hands moved automatically, one stroking Ling's hair, the other resting firm and warm against her back.
Ling clutched the fabric of Dadi's shawl like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
"She doesn't care anymore," Ling sobbed. "She doesn't… she doesn't love me anymore."
Her voice cracked completely on the last word.
Dadi felt her heart twist.
Ling pressed her forehead harder into Dadi's lap, shaking her head as if denial might undo the truth she had already carved into herself.
"I fainted," Ling cried. "I collapsed in front of everyone. I didn't sleep for two nights. I wrote everything every thought, every feeling and she didn't even stay."
Her breathing turned uneven.
"She told them not to tell me," Ling whispered, devastated. "Like I was nothing. Like I wasn't worth even knowing."
Dadi's fingers tightened slightly in Ling's hair.
"Beta," Dadi said softly.
Ling shook her head violently. "No. Don't say it's misunderstanding. Don't say she's complicated. Don't say she's scared."
Tears soaked into Dadi's clothes.
"I know when someone stops choosing you," Ling said, voice raw. "I know when love turns into tolerance. She hates me. She said it herself."
Her chest heaved.
"And still," she whispered, almost ashamed, "I would've forgiven everything if she had just stayed."
Dadi closed her eyes.
She had seen warriors fall on battlefields with more dignity than this girl was allowed in love.
Dadi cupped Ling's face gently, lifting it just enough to look at her.
Ling's eyes were red, swollen, glossy not the fierce, arrogant Ling Kwong the world knew, but a girl stripped bare.
"Look at me," Dadi said.
Ling tried to look away. Dadi didn't allow it.
"Listen carefully," Dadi said, her voice calm but heavy with certainty. "A girl who does not care does not cry in secret. She does not run when she feels too much."
Ling's brows furrowed in confusion and pain.
"She hates me." Ling whispered.
Dadi sighed deeply. "Love makes fools of intelligent people. Fear makes cowards of brave ones."
Ling's lips trembled.
"But she asked them not to tell me," Ling said again, like it was the final proof. "She didn't want me to know she came."
Dadi rested her forehead against Ling's.
"Or," Dadi said quietly, "she didn't want you to think she stayed because she was weak."
Ling inhaled sharply.
Dadi wiped a tear from Ling's cheek with her thumb.
"Ling," she said gently, "you love like fire. You demand truth, confrontation, burning honesty. Rhea loves like someone who has learned that love costs too much."
Ling swallowed hard.
Dadi smiled sadly. "I know that silence."
Ling's breath broke again. "I didn't know," she whispered. "I didn't even see her. I just… I felt something missing when I woke up."
Dadi pulled her into a tight embrace.
"She didn't stop loving you," Dadi said firmly. "She is terrified of it."
Ling clutched Dadi like she was afraid she might disappear too.
"Then why does it hurt so much," Ling cried.
"Because," Dadi replied softly, rocking her, "you are loving someone who is still learning how to stay."
Ling buried her face again, sobbing but this time, the pain was mixed with something else.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But the faint, dangerous possibility that the story wasn't over.
Outside the locked door, Eliza stood frozen, hand hovering mid-air, having heard just enough to realize—
This was no longer a game.
Nior Mansion
Rhea sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, eyes red and swollen.
Her phone vibrated.
Rina:
I put all gifts of ling in your car get it when no one's watching
Rhea's breath stuttered.
Her fingers hovered before typing.
Rhea:
Ling threw them?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Rina:
she asked us to throw them but I didn't.
Rhea closed her eyes, pain slicing through her chest.
Another message.
Rhea:
how is she??
There was a pause this time. Longer.
Rina:
bad.
Rhea's throat tightened.
Rina:
very angry when she found out you left
Rhea's hands trembled.
Rhea:
angry… or hurt??
Rina didn't reply immediately.
When she did, it was one line and it broke Rhea completely.
Rina:
both. but mostly hurt....
Rhea pressed the phone to her forehead, tears spilling freely now.
"She fainted," Rhea whispered to the empty room. "And I ran."
Her chest ached with regret.
"I thought if I stayed, I'd break," she murmured. "I didn't know leaving would break her."
She stood abruptly, wiping her face.
Her eyes hardened not with anger, but resolve.
The gifts were there.
They were waiting.
And for the first time, Rhea didn't ask herself if she should go to Ling.
She asked herself how much longer she could survive not going.
____
Night had already settled over Nior Mansion when Rhea slipped out quietly.
No lights.
No footsteps louder than her heartbeat.
She moved like a thief not of guilt, but of longing.
The car stood there, untouched.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the trunk.
And then—
everything was there.
The bag.
Stuffed.
Overflowing.
Heavy not by weight, but by effort.
Her chest tightened.
She pulled it out slowly, closed the trunk, and carried it back inside as if it were something fragile… alive.
The moment her bedroom door shut and locked, Rhea's strength collapsed.
She slid down against the door, clutching the bag.
For a second she didn't open it.
She already knew.
She had known the moment she saw the fire last night—
that whatever Ling wrote…
whatever she poured into those pages…
had mattered more than Rhea wanted to admit.
Finally, Rhea opened the bag.