The doors opened without announcement.
Mira walked in like she belonged there—because she always had.
"Dadi," she said warmly, bending slightly to touch the old woman's hand. "You look radiant today."
Dadi smiled, indulgent. "Flattery suits you, child."
Victor nodded at her. "Your father called earlier. Said you'd drop by."
Mira smiled. "Uncle Victor."
Her eyes found Ling instantly.
Ling leaned against the armrest, expression unreadable. The smile she'd worn minutes ago had thinned, sharpened.
Eliza's face lit up. "Mira, come sit. You're glowing."
Rina muttered, loud enough, "Someone's favorite."
Ling shot her a glare. "Behave."
Mira sat beside Eliza, posture perfect. "Aunt Eliza, I brought the tea you like. Imported."
Eliza beamed. "Always thoughtful. Unlike some people."
She glanced at Ling pointedly.
Ling scoffed. "I buy companies, not tea leaves."
Mira laughed softly. "That's what I love about you."
Ling's jaw tightened. "That's exactly the problem."
Dadi watched them both, eyes sharp. "Ling, stop sulking. Mira has always stood by you."
Ling met her gaze. "I didn't ask her to."
The room stilled—just a fraction.
Mira's smile faltered, then recovered, gentler. "You don't have to ask. I want to."
Eliza sighed dramatically. "Honestly, Ling, anyone would think you're allergic to good intentions."
Ling stood. "Or maybe I'm allergic to expectations."
Mira rose too, stepping closer, lowering her voice. "You're irritated today."
Ling laughed, cold. "Concern now?"
Mira held her ground. "Always."
For a second—just one—Ling looked at her properly. Really looked.
Then she turned away.
"I don't need a caretaker," Ling said. "Or a future drafted by family approval."
Rina smirked. "Ouch. Rejected before the proposal."
Mira flushed. Eliza frowned. Dadi clicked her tongue.
"Enough," Dadi said. "This house doesn't pressure, Ling. It observes."
Mira smiled again, softer, wounded but determined. "I'm not here to pressure. I'm here because I belong."
Ling paused at the stairs.
Without turning, she said quietly, dangerously calm,
"Belonging isn't claimed by time, Mira. It's allowed."
Silence followed her up the stairs.
Mira remained standing—hands clenched, smile gone now.
Eliza touched her arm. "Don't mind her. She'll come around."
Mira nodded.
But her eyes darkened.
Because somewhere between Ling's irritation and refusal,
something else had entered the space—
Something Mira could feel.
Something she didn't recognize.
And something she already hated.
Eliza broke the silence first, smoothing the crease in her dress. "Ignore her moods, Mira. She's been… difficult lately."
Mira sat slowly, fingers folded too neatly in her lap. "She always has been."
Victor poured himself tea. "You said something happened at the university?"
Mira hesitated—just enough to look reluctant, just enough to look honest.
"There's a new girl," she said softly. "Rhea Nior."
Eliza's brow lifted. "Nior?"
"Yes," Mira replied. "Sharp tongue. Too much attitude. Exactly the kind Ling hates."
Victor chuckled. "Then why does that sound like trouble?"
Mira looked up, eyes darker now. "Because hate wasn't what I saw."
The room stilled.
Eliza straightened. "What?"
Mira inhaled. "Today, in class… things escalated. Words. Power. Ego." She paused, choosing each word carefully. "Ling lost control."
Victor frowned. "Ling doesn't lose control."
"She did," Mira said quietly. "She grabbed Rhea. They fell."
Eliza's cup froze midway to her lips. "Fell?"
Mira nodded once. "On the floor. Rhea over her."
Victor leaned forward. "And?"
Mira's voice dropped. "Their l... li...lips touched."
Silence—heavy, suffocating.
Eliza set the cup down slowly. "Accident?"
Mira met her gaze. "Their eyes were open."
Victor exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Kids these days—"
"It wasn't childish," Mira interrupted, sharper now. "It wasn't playful."
Eliza's jaw tightened. "Ling would never—"
"She didn't pull away," Mira said. "Not immediately."
That did it.
Victor looked away. Eliza stared at nothing.
"And afterward?" Victor asked.
Mira smiled faintly. "Ling acted furious. Louder. Crueler." She tilted her head. "As if she was punishing herself."
Eliza's voice softened, uneasy. "Ling has always hated weakness."
Mira's fingers curled into her palm. "And Rhea makes her weak."
Victor shook his head. "You're reading too much into this."
"Am I?" Mira asked gently. "Or are we all pretending not to see what's right in front of us?"
Eliza looked at Mira—really looked at her now. The devotion. The patience. The years.
"You've always been good for her," Eliza said. "Steady."
Mira smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know."
Victor sighed. "Ling will come around."
Mira stood. "I hope so."
She turned toward the hallway Ling had vanished into, her expression calm, almost resigned.
But inside her chest, something twisted—slow, poisonous.
Because a kiss she hadn't received
had already started stealing everything she believed was hers.