When they returned to the hotel, the corridor was quiet, and only a single lamp had been left on in the room.
Yeh had just finished showering and put on her pyjamas. She ran her hand loosely through her hair, which was still damp at the ends, strands clung coolly to her collarbone. She was about to sit down when a soft knock came at the door.
Pausing in surprise, she walked over and opened it.
Lin stood there, she already changed out of her daytime clothes and looked more relaxed.
"I forgot to give your ring back," she said simply, as if it were the most ordinary reason in the world.
Yeh stepped aside to make room. "Come in for a moment."
Lin entered, her gaze drifting instinctively around the room before settling toward the bathroom, where the faint sound of running water could be heard.
"Where's Fiona?"
"She's taking the shower."
Suddenly, only their breathing remained, alongside the steady flow of water from the bathroom. The sense of being enclosed in a place which was private and separate felt almost tangible.
Lin remained standing where she was, having not took off the ring. Her hand hung loosely at her side, the band still resting securely on her index finger, reflecting tiny glints of light under the lamp. She glanced at Yeh, hesitated for a heartbeat, then spoke.
"You… were different today. Not like usual."
The words came unexpectedly, and far too directly.
Leaning against the edge of the table, Yeh lifted an eyebrow slightly, as if she had known exactly what Lin would say.
"Was I?" Her tone was light, edged with a faint, knowing smile. "Which version do you prefer?"
She turned the question back smoothly, neither evading nor explaining herself.
Lin faltered, clearly unprepared for such a reply.
"You today…" She began, then paused, searching for the right words. "It threw me off balance a little."
There was no resistance in her voice, only the hesitation of someone whose rhythm had been gently but thoroughly disrupted.
Yeh said nothing, only watched her and waited.
Lin's eyes rested on her face for a second before drifting away, almost shyly, her voice was softening.
"But… I liked it."
It was spoken quietly, yet impossible to overlook.
The air between them shifted, thickening with unspoken meaning.
Yeh held her gaze steady. She did not brush the comment aside with a joke as she once would have, nor did she draw back. Instead, she let the moment carry her forward naturally.
"Then I'll try not to hold back so much from now on," she said.
She spoke calmly, as if discussing something ordinary, yet the words took her a step closer than she had ever been before.
Lin looked up at her. She had meant to say something more precise, yet what came out was simpler.
"Just be yourself. That's enough."
She paused, leaving the thought unsaid resting on the tip of her tongue—It's always been you, whom I like as who you are.
She lifted her hand and slid the ring from her finger. But instead of handing it over, she took a step forward until she stood directly in front of Yeh.
They were close enough to see every flicker of hesitation in each other's eyes, and the quiet resolve not to look away.
Her movements were steady and deliberate as she slipped the ring back onto Yeh's index finger, as if she was confirming exactly where it belonged to.
Her fingertips brushed briefly against Yeh's—lingering just a little, yet not pulling away too soon.
Neither of them spoke. It was so silent that they could hear the sound of water running in the bathroom clearly.
Lin withdrew her hand quickly, aware she had already stepped beyond what was safe, she was afraid that staying even a second longer would make things impossible to undo.
"I should go now," she said, her tone returned to something closer to normal.
Yeh nodded, making no move to stop her.
Footsteps faded down from the corridor, and the room fell quiet again.
Yeh remained standing where she was, motionless.
She looked down at the ring on her finger.
The same action had happened twice in one day—once when she had reached out first, and once when Lin reached back. Nothing had been put into words, yet it was impossible to pretend nothing had changed.
She moved her finger gently; the metal felt cool, solid, and undeniably real against her skin.
In that moment, she understood—some boundaries, once crossed, never return to where they were before.