Eliza's call came when Mira was least ready or already for it.
Her phone buzzed softly in her palm, the screen lighting up with Eliza's name. Mira stared at it for a long second, thumb hovering, breath already uneven.
She swallowed and answered. "Hello?"
"Mira," Eliza's voice was calm, controlled—the way it always was. "How's the trip? Is Ling alright?"
That was it.
That single, ordinary question broke whatever fragile restraint Mira had left.
Her breath hitched, sharp and ugly. "Auntie—" The word came out cracked. Then she couldn't stop it anymore. "She's not… she's not alright. And neither am I."
Eliza voice sharpened instantly. "Mira, what happened?"
Mira tried to speak. Tried to arrange the truth into something neat, something acceptable.
Instead, she cried.
Not the quiet tears from before—but the kind that shakes your ribs, that makes your chest ache. She turned away from the camp, pressing her forehead against a tree trunk as if it could hold her upright.
"She almost died," Mira sobbed. "Ling got hurt—her head was bleeding—and she still wouldn't let go of her."
Eliza went silent. Not interrupting. Listening.
Mira wiped her face angrily, words spilling faster now, years of restraint unraveling. "She crossed a line. Ling—Ling never does that. She never touches, never shows, never chooses. But with Rhea… she didn't even think."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I saw her. With my own eyes."
A breath on the other end of the line—slow, measured.
"Mira," Eliza said carefully, "tell me exactly what happened."
Mira squeezed her eyes shut. "She was kneeling in front of her. Her hands—her mouth—she was trying to help her, but it wasn't just help. It was urgency. Possession. Like nothing else existed.She kissed her but not on somewhere normal."
Her throat burned. "She didn't look at me. Not even once."
Silence stretched again.
When Eliza finally spoke, her voice was softer—but heavier. "So it has reached this point."
Mira laughed weakly through tears. "You knew, didn't you?"
Eliza didn't deny it.
"I suspected," she said. "Not this way. Not this fast."
Mira slid down to sit on the ground, exhausted. "She says she doesn't feel anything. She pretends she hates Rhea. But Auntie… hatred doesn't make you bleed for someone. It doesn't make you forget who's watching."
Eliza closed her eyes on the other end of the call.
Ling's control breaking was not a small thing.
"And now?" Eliza asked.
Mira's voice was hollow. "Now I don't know where I stand. I've been here my whole life. I waited. I stayed. And she—she chose someone who doesn't even want her."
That last part hurt the most.
Eliza inhaled slowly. "Mira… listen to me. What you're feeling is not wrong. But Ling is walking toward something she doesn't understand yet."
Mira laughed bitterly. "She understands enough to kneel."
Eliza didn't argue.
Instead, she said quietly, "Come back safely. Don't confront her not now I know her she won't listen.
Mira hugged her knees, tears drying on her cheeks, leaving her tired instead of broken.
"I hate her," she whispered.
When Mira's voice broke on the other end, Eliza's jaw tightened—not in surprise, but in confirmation.
"Mira," Eliza said softly, almost maternally, "I knew this trip was a mistake."
That gentleness undid Mira faster than anger ever could.
She cried again, openly this time. "Auntie… I tried. I really tried to stay patient. But Ling—she crossed a line."
Eliza closed her eyes, fingers curling around her phone. Of course it was Rhea Nior.
"She always does this," Eliza said, voice controlled but edged with disapproval. "She enters places she doesn't belong and pretends she has no effect."
Mira swallowed. "Ling almost died. And still—still she wouldn't let go of her."
Eliza's expression hardened. "That isn't love," she said firmly. "That is recklessness. Obsession masquerading as instinct."
Mira clutched her jacket tighter around herself. "But Ling has never been reckless before."
"Because she has never been challenged before," Eliza replied. "You ground her. You always have."
There it was.
The truth Eliza had never said out loud—but had always acted on.
"Mira," she continued, voice lowering, "you are the only person Ling has trusted without resistance since childhood. You are stability. You are… family."
Mira's breath trembled. "Then why doesn't she look at me?"
Eliza's pause was brief but deliberate. "Because Ling doesn't understand the difference between intensity and permanence yet."
Mira listened silently.
"Rhea is a disruption," Eliza went on. "And disruptions feel powerful when you're young and wounded. But they burn out. They always do."
Mira bit her lip. "She touched her. I saw it."
Eliza didn't flinch. "Touch doesn't equal choice."
Her voice softened again, almost reassuring. "I already see you as her future. That hasn't changed. One university girl won't change a lifetime of belonging."
That sentence settled heavy in Mira's chest comforting.
"You don't need to compete," Eliza added. "You only need to endure. Ling will come back to what is safe."
Mira looked down at her hands, unsure whether she felt relief or something darker.
"And Rhea?" Mira asked quietly.
Eliza's answer was immediate. "She will be removed—from Ling's life or from her illusions. One way or another."
The call ended shortly after.
Mira stayed seated long after the screen went dark.
She should have felt secure.
She should have felt chosen.
Instead, a cold realization crept in:
If Ling had to be guided back to her,
then maybe—just maybe—Ling had never truly chosen her at all.