Rhea noticed it the moment she entered the university.
Ling Kwong wasn't there.
No blazer cutting through the corridor.
No silent dominance bending the air.
No students straightening instinctively at her presence.
Rhea slowed her steps, irritation sparking first—sharp, automatic.
So she doesn't come today, Rhea thought coldly.
Her eyes scanned the campus anyway. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
Then she saw Mira.
Mira stood near the notice board, phone in hand, posture carefully composed—as if waiting to be seen. Ling wasn't beside her. That alone unsettled Rhea more than she liked.
Rhea's jaw tightened.
She could ask.
The thought barely formed before her pride crushed it.
I don't ask for anyone, she reminded herself. Especially not her.
She walked past without slowing.
Behind her, Mira's eyes followed her—calculating, sharp beneath practiced softness.
Mira dialed Ling immediately.
"Why didn't you come today?" Mira asked the moment Ling picked up, tone light, almost teasing.
"I have work," Ling replied, distracted, voice clipped.
Mira smiled to herself. "You skipped university for work? That's new."
Ling didn't respond.
There was a pause—then Mira softened her voice deliberately. "Ling… we're friends now, right?"
Ling exhaled slowly. "Yes."
"You forgave me," Mira pressed, needing to hear it.
"I said yes," Ling replied flatly. "Don't make it something else."
Mira's smile widened—satisfied, possessive. "Good. I was worried."
Ling added, almost as an afterthought, "Don't wait around for me."
Mira laughed lightly. "I won't. Just wanted to check."
The call ended.
Mira lowered her phone, eyes drifting across the campus until they found Rhea's retreating figure.
Rhea sat through lectures restless, her focus splintered. Every door opening made her glance up before she could stop herself.
Nothing.
During break, Zifa leaned toward her. "You look annoyed."
"I'm fine," Rhea snapped, then softened. "Just tired."
Zifa studied her carefully. "Ling isn't around today."
"I noticed," Rhea replied too quickly.
Then she stiffened—realizing what she'd admitted.
Zifa said nothing. Just nodded.
Rhea looked away, jaw set.
I don't care, Rhea told herself.
Yet somewhere beneath ego and anger, something else stirred—unwanted, sharp.
Absence.
And Rhea hated how loud it felt.
The mansion was still in motion.
Workers moved in disciplined lines now—less chaos, more precision. The air smelled faintly of roses and polish, of something expensive being prepared with intent. Ling stood near the dining area, supervising the placement of the long table herself, correcting angles with a sharp eye.
"No, not that close," she said coolly. "Space matters."
"Yes, Miss Kwong."
Ling turned just as footsteps echoed behind her.
Mira entered.
She wore soft colors, hair neatly styled, face carrying that familiar practiced sweetness. For a moment, she simply stood there—watching the transformation of the mansion, the candles, the florals, the quiet urgency.
Her brows knitted slightly. "Why is… all this happening?"
Before Ling could answer, Eliza stepped in smoothly. "Ling is working."
Mira smiled politely at Eliza, then looked back at Ling. "You skipped university. I called you."
"I told you," Ling said without looking at her. "I'm busy."
Mira laughed lightly, trying to keep the moment warm. "Busy is an understatement."
She glanced around again. "Is there an event?"
Ling rolled her eyes, impatience flashing for a fraction of a second. "Why are you here, Mira?"
Mira stiffened—but recovered quickly. "I came to see you. We're friends, remember?"
Dadi appeared from the hallway like she'd been summoned by tension alone, cane tapping once against the floor.
"Oh yes," Dadi said cheerfully. "Friends."
Mira smiled at her, respectful. "Dadi."
Dadi looked around theatrically. "Curtains changed, candles everywhere, roses being treated like royalty…"
She leaned closer to Mira, voice dropping just enough. "Rhea is coming for dinner."
The name hit the room like a strike.
Mira's face drained.
Just for a second.
A blink too slow.
A smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Oh," Mira said softly. "Is she?"
Ling finally turned, gaze sharp. "Yes."
There was no apology in her tone. No softness. Just fact.
Mira nodded, swallowing. "That's… nice."
Eliza watched carefully. Mira's fingers curled into her palm, nails pressing skin. But when she looked up again, she smiled—perfect, controlled.
"I hope she enjoys it," Mira said. "Ling puts effort into things she cares about."
Dadi chuckled. "Oh, this is effort."
Ling shot Dadi a warning look. "Enough."
Mira stepped closer to Ling, lowering her voice. "I won't stay long. I didn't know you were hosting."
"Now you do," Ling replied.
Mira hesitated, then nodded.
Her eyes flicked once more to the roses. To the candles. To the care Ling was taking with every detail.
Ling returned to her work without another glance back.
After a while, Eliza's room was calm—too calm compared to the rest of the mansion.
Muted lighting. Heavy curtains drawn halfway. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and something medicinal. Eliza sat on the edge of the sofa, one hand resting against her temple.
Mira stood in front of her, agitation barely contained.
"You told me to act like a friend," Mira said, voice tight. "You told me to wait. And now look—Ling is gone far. Too far."
Eliza lifted her gaze slowly. "Lower your voice."
Mira exhaled sharply but obeyed. "You're doing nothing. She's arranging the house like it's—" her voice cracked, "—like it's permanent."
Eliza closed her eyes briefly. She looked tired. Older.
"I am doing something," she said calmly. "Just not what you can see."
Mira stepped closer. "Then do it faster. Because if this continues, Ling will give Rhea everything."
Eliza's eyes sharpened. "And if I act openly in front of Ling," she said evenly, "she will never listen to me again."
Mira frowned. "She listens to you."
"No," Eliza corrected softly. "She used to."
She stood, walking toward the window. "Ling is stubborn. Once her heart decides, no voice matters. Not mine. Not yours. Not anyone's."
Mira's hands clenched. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Eliza turned back, gaze steady. "For the moment when her heart hesitates."
Mira scoffed. "That won't happen."
"It will," Eliza said quietly. "Fire burns brightest just before it consumes itself."
She stepped closer to Mira, lowering her voice. "Rhea will leave Ling."
Mira's breath hitched. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because Ling loves with her whole heart," Eliza replied. "And people like Rhea don't."
Mira swallowed. "You don't know her."
Eliza's lips curved faintly—not kind. "I know fire."
She placed a hand on Mira's shoulder. "Wait. Stay close. Be kind. Be harmless."
Mira hesitated. "And then?"
Eliza met her eyes. "Then I promise you—Ling will come back broken enough to listen."
Mira nodded slowly, fear and hope twisting together.
Outside the room, the mansion continued preparing for a perfect dinner.
Inside, two women waited.
One for love to bloom.
The other for it to burn.