Sunlight poured into the dining hall like it had been invited.
Ling walked in with an ease that hadn't been there in days—hair tied high, shoulders loose, steps light.
Dadi noticed first.
"Oh?" she said, squinting over her tea. "Who replaced my brooding granddaughter with this sunshine?"
Rina nearly choked on her juice. "Wait—she's smiling."
Victor looked up from his tablet just in time for Ling to steal a piece of toast from his plate.
"Hey," he protested.
"You weren't eating it," Ling said sweetly.
Victor raised a brow. "I was."
Ling tilted her head, eyes sharp. "Evidence?"
Dadi burst out laughing. "Leave him alone, tiger. He's old."
Victor gasped. "Mother!"
Ling grinned. "See? Not even my insult."
Rina stared between them. "Okay, something definitely happened."
Ling leaned against the counter, sipping coffee. "What? I can't have a good morning?"
"You don't have good mornings," Rina said flatly. "You have schedules."
Ling smirked. "Jealous."
Victor shook his head, amused. "Just don't start insulting me before breakfast every day."
"I make no promises," Ling replied.
She finished eating quickly, slung her bag over her shoulder, then looked at Rina.
"Come with me," Ling said casually. "I'm driving today."
Rina froze.
"…Come again?"
Ling blinked. "In my car."
Rina's eyes widened dramatically. She stepped closer, pressing the back of her hand to Ling's forehead.
"You feeling okay?" Rina asked. "No fever? No emotional awakening?"
Ling swatted her hand away. "Of course I'm fine."
Rina squinted. "You never ask me that. You usually say 'get in or walk.'"
Ling shrugged. "Change is healthy."
Rina gasped. "She's evolved."
Dadi laughed again. "Don't scare the child. Let her enjoy her moment."
Rina leaned closer, whispering loudly, "This has something to do with her, doesn't it?"
Ling's smile faltered for half a second—barely noticeable.
"Hmmm," Ling said, deadpan. "Not funny."
Rina grinned, victorious. "Oh. It is her."
Ling grabbed her keys and headed for the door. "You coming or are you planning to psychoanalyze me all morning?"
Rina hurried after her, still smiling. "I'm coming. I just want this recorded for history."
As they stepped outside, Ling inhaled deeply—chest light, heart steady.
For the first time in days, she felt aligned.
She didn't know why.
She didn't know how long it would last.
But somewhere else in the city, Rhea Nior was preparing to weaponize that exact ease—The car glided out of the gates smoothly.
Ling drove with one hand on the wheel, music low, sunlight cutting clean lines across the dashboard.
Rina watched her for a full minute.
Then smiled slowly.
"So," she said.
Ling didn't look. "No."
Rina leaned back, feigning innocence. "I didn't say anything."
"You were about to," Ling replied.
Rina laughed. "You're in a good mood."
Ling hummed. "I'm allowed."
Rina tilted her head. "Since when?"
Ling sighed. "Since this morning."
"That's not an answer," Rina said. "Try again."
Ling kept her eyes on the road. "Since last night."
Rina's brows shot up. "Oh?"
Ling hesitated—just a beat. "Mom said I can do what I want. No objections."
Rina blinked. Then grinned. "And that made you this… light?"
Ling's grip on the wheel loosened. "It removed pressure."
Rina nodded slowly. "Uh-huh."
She waited.
Then—
"So," Rina said sweetly, "does this freedom include Miss Attitude?"
Ling's foot almost pressed the brake.
"What?" Ling snapped.
Rina burst out laughing. "There it is."
Ling shot her a glare. "You're annoying."
"But accurate," Rina replied. "Your ears are red."
"They are not."
"They absolutely are."
Ling finally glanced at the mirror—and cursed under her breath.
Rina leaned closer, delighted. "So the ice queen blushes now?"
Ling clenched her jaw. "I don't have feelings."
Rina nodded exaggeratedly. "Of course not. You just smile, get reckless, cry in public, fight your mother, threaten a girl, and blush at her name."
Ling shot her a look. "Keep talking and you're walking back."
Rina raised her hands. "Fine, fine. I'll behave."
She paused.
Then softly, "Just… be careful."
Ling didn't answer immediately.
Her smile faded into something thoughtful.
"I am," she said quietly. "That's why I'm calm."
Rina watched her cousin carefully.
Because calm like this didn't come from safety.
It came from permission.
And permission—especially when granted suddenly—
Was the most dangerous gift of all.
Mira sat on the edge room sofa, phone in hand.
Eliza's voice was calm. Too calm.
"You will behave," Eliza said. "Like a friend. Nothing more."
Mira nodded quickly. "I can do that."
"You'll be warm. Supportive. Non-threatening," Eliza continued. "Ling won't push you away if you don't give her a reason."
Mira swallowed. "And her?"
Eliza's lips curved faintly. "You won't interfere directly. Let things unfold. You'll still be in Ling's life."
"And… no one else?" Mira asked quietly.
Eliza's voice sharpened. "I won't let anyone else take your place."
Mira smiled then—slow, satisfied. "Okay," she said softly. "I'll do exactly as you say."
Eliza disconnected call.
By the time Ling reached the university, the mood from the morning still lingered—light, controlled, hopeful in a way she refused to name.
She stepped out of the car.
And Mira was already there.
Mira stopped in front of Ling.
Mira froze for a heartbeat—then immediately.
"I'm sorry," Mira said quickly. "For everything. For following you. For crossing lines. For what happened with Rhea. I shouldn't have— I know I was wrong."
Her voice trembled just enough.
Ling stared at her, unreadable.
Mira rushed on, afraid of the silence. "I'll apologize to Rhea too. I swear. I won't interfere anymore. I just— I don't want things to be bad between us."
Ling's eyes sharpened.
Then she spoke.
"Have you lost it?"
Mira looked up, startled. "W-what?"
Ling took one step closer—not aggressive, not soft. Controlled.
"I didn't come here to hear a performance," Ling said flatly. "And I didn't ask for your guilt."
Mira's lips parted. "Ling, I mean it—"
"If you were sorry," Ling cut in, "you wouldn't have needed to almost kill someone to realize it."
That landed hard.
Mira's breath stuttered. Tears spilled over, real or not—Ling didn't care.
"I won't act more than a friend," Ling continued, voice cold, precise. "Not now. Not ever. And don't mistake that for forgiveness."
Mira nodded frantically. "I understand. Friends. Just friends."
Ling held her gaze for a long second.
"Good," she said. "Because if you cross even that line again—"
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
She stepped back, already done with the conversation. "Apologize to Rhea. Properly. And then stay where you belong."
Mira whispered, "I will. I promise."
Ling turned away without another glance.
Mira stood there, hands shaking, face lowered in submission.
But the moment Ling disappeared down the corridor, Mira's fingers slowly curled into fists.
Because Ling hadn't pushed her away.
And that was enough.
Exactly as planned.