Glancing at the clock and seeing there was still plenty of time, Fiona suggested brightly that they revisit the bar they had been to—a place that held unspoken memories for both Yeh and Lin, as if she had planned it all along. No one objected her idea.
Inside, the lighting was dim and familiar, the music was soft enough that conversation flowed easily. Beer and fried chicken were served shortly, filling the air with a rich scent that instantly transported them back to that night months ago.
Yeh raised her head and took a long drink, the cold liquid sliding down her throat, and felt a strange sense of disorientation, that was so little time had passed, yet so much had quietly changed. She was no longer as tense as she had been then, nor did she need to carefully control the frequency she looked at Lin's direction from time to time.
They played the same game as before, where one person performed an action and the rest tried to copy it. Yeh was never one for dramatic or complicated gestures, she simply glanced down at the ring on her finger, paused for two seconds, and slipped it off naturally. Without fanfare or hesitation, she reached over and slid it onto Lin's index finger—deliberately choosing not to place it on her ring finger. The motion was clean and decisive, carrying a certainty that allowed no room for doubt. Yeh knew exactly how this might be interpreted, yet tonight, for reasons she could not name, she felt no fear.
The air seemed to still for a heartbeat.
Lin froze, her gaze fixed on the ring resting on her hand. It was not the act itself that surprised her, but the fact that it came from Yeh—someone who always held back, who always retreated, and whose sudden boldness left her completely unprepared.
Fiona immediately cheered, laughing openly. "Wow, there's no way we can copy that move." She threw her hands up playfully. "I don't have a ring, so I forfeit."
Jing's expression shifted ever so slightly in that same moment. She said nothing, showed no obvious emotion, only let her eyes linger on the ring for a second before looking away, as if nothing had happened. Yet that single second spoke volumes.
Yeh did not pull her hand back, nor did she glance toward Jing. She only met Lin's eyes briefly, confirming that what she had done was done, before slowly withdrawing her hand. In that moment, she knew clearly she had crossed a line—not out of impulse, but by her own choice. The boundary she had guarded so carefully for so long had been blurred, by her own hand.
Lin stared down at the ring, the corner of her mouth twitching upward, and made no move to take it off. When she lifted her head to look at Yeh, her eyes held something new—not surprise, but the quiet certainty of her feelings had finally been answered. She realised then that Yeh was truly stepping forward: not forced, not losing control, but moving entirely of her own will. The change was unexpected, yet so precious she could not make herself to interrupt it.
The bar owner walked over to say hello, smiling as her gaze drifted between Lin and Yeh, her tone was familiar enough to tease them. "You two… are you a couple?"
A hush fell over the table. In the past, such a question would have been brushed aside or blurred with a joke.
This time, however, Yeh did not look away, nor did she glance at Lin for guidance. She simply lifted her chin, a faint trace of triumph in her expression, and nodded. It was a small gesture, yet unmistakable—sealing the night with an answer even she had not fully anticipated.
Fiona gasped in delight and laughed even louder. Jing remained silent, lifting her glass to her lips and drinking slowly.
Lin turned her head to look at Yeh. She held her gaze longer than usual, as if seeing the person before her with new eyes.
After that, the atmosphere lightened naturally. Yeh spoke more than she ever had, laughing freely, no longer treading on eggshells around Lin. She joined in conversations unprompted, even making playful remarks that pushed gently at the edges of what was allowed, positioning herself closer than ever before.
Yeh appeared slightly intoxicated—her voice was softer, her gaze was unfocused—but only she knew how sober she truly was: fully aware of every action she took, and exactly what this step meant. She was surprised to find that when she stopped calculating every possible outcome, when she stopped building escape routes for herself at every turn, things did not fall apart. They became simpler.
And perhaps… not nearly as frightening as she had imagined.