Ling knelt.
If anyone else had been there, they wouldn't have believed it.
She was on one knee in front of the couch, close enough to feel Rhea's breath, close enough that walking away would have been easier than staying—and yet she stayed.
Rhea lay still, wrapped in Ling's blazer, dark lashes resting against pale skin. Water had dried into soft lines along her neck. Her chest rose and fell slowly now, steady.
Ling stared.
She didn't mean to.
But her eyes traced anyway.
The curve of Rhea's lips—slightly parted, softer without words sharp enough to wound the taste of them fk intoxicating.
The small nose ring—catching the light even now, stubbornly defiant.
The arch of her brows—strong even in sleep, as if she refused to look weak.
Ling swallowed.
This is ridiculous.
She'd faced boardrooms. Enemies. Threats with teeth.
This—this was just a girl.
So why couldn't she look away?
Heat crept up her neck before she noticed it. A faint flush brushed her cheeks—foreign, unwelcome. Ling frowned, confused, lifting a hand to her face as if she'd been struck.
Blushing.
The realization hit her harder than fear ever had.
She stood abruptly, turning away as if distance could undo the moment. She went to the window, back rigid, hands clenched behind her, staring at glass without seeing anything.
Get control, she ordered herself.
This ends now.
Behind her—
Rhea inhaled sharply.
A breath too aware to be unconscious.
Ling didn't turn.
Rhea's fingers curled against the couch. Her eyes opened slowly, vision blurring, then sharpening.
Empty room.
No nurses. No staff.
Just luxury. Silence. And—
She recognized it instantly.
"This isn't a hospital," Rhea said hoarsely.
Ling smiled faintly.
Still facing the window.
"Congratulations," Ling replied coolly. "You're observant even when you drown."
Rhea pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing slightly. The blazer slipped slightly. Her gaze swept the room—and landed on Ling.
At her back.
At her posture.
At the tension she wasn't hiding as well as she thought.
"Your changing room," Rhea murmured. "Did I earn an invitation?"
Ling turned then.
Arms crossed. Expression cold. Mask perfect.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said. "You were inconveniently unconscious."
Rhea studied her—really studied her.
The faint color Ling hadn't realized still lingered. The way her eyes refused to linger now. The distance she'd put between them like a wall built too late.
Rhea's lips curved.
"Oh," she said softly. "Did I interrupt something?"
Ling's jaw tightened.
"You fell," Ling snapped. "You panicked. You embarrassed yourself."
Rhea swung her legs off the couch slowly, testing her balance. She stood—steady now—and took one step closer.
"I didn't panic," Rhea said calmly. "And you don't save people you don't care about."
Ling laughed, sharp and dismissive. "Care? I don't care if you breathe."
Rhea stopped inches away.
"Then why," she asked quietly, "were you kneeling?"
The room went very still.
Ling's eyes darkened.
"Don't think much you are delusional don't forget your limit," she said coldly. "You imagine things that don't exist."
Rhea smiled—not egoistic, not mocking.
Knowing.
She reached up, adjusting her nose ring deliberately, eyes never leaving Ling's face.
"Whatever helps you sleep, Lingling Kwong."
Ling opened the door and stepped aside.
"Get dressed," she ordered. "And don't mistake rescue for mercy again."
Rhea passed her, shoulder brushing Ling's arm—light, intentional.
At the door, Rhea paused.
"Next time," she said softly, without turning, "I'll make sure I don't fall if I do then I'll make sure not to get unconscious to show you Fire Always Melt Ice."
The door closed.
Ling remained standing.
Heart loud. Control fraying.
She touched her face again—still warm.
And for the first time, Lingling Kwong admitted something she would never say aloud:
The danger wasn't that Rhea had seen her weak.
The danger was that Rhea had seen her true.