Ling stayed kneeling.
The flower didn't lower.
Her shoulders rose and fell once—sharp, uneven.
"You asked me why I hated you," she said quietly.
"From the first day."
Rhea didn't move.
Ling looked down for a second, then back up.
"You walked in late," Ling said.
"No apology."
"No fear."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I rule that place. Everyone knows it."
Her jaw tightened.
"You didn't care."
Rhea whispered, "You, why this?"
Ling nodded.
"Because you made me angry."
She laughed softly, bitter.
"I thought you were arrogant."
"Too proud."
"Too… loud."
Her fingers trembled around the stem.
"But then," Ling said, "you talked back."
Rhea's breath hitched.
"You didn't flatter me," Ling continued.
"You didn't look at me like I was untouchable."
"You looked at me like I was just—another person."
Ling swallowed.
"That made me furious."
She shook her head slowly.
"I picked fights."
"I cornered you."
"I provoked you."
Her eyes darkened.
"Because every time you ignored me… it felt worse than losing."
Rhea whispered, "That's obsession."
Ling didn't deny it.
"I told myself it was control," she said.
"That I just wanted you to bend."
Her voice dropped.
"But the elevator…"
She stopped.
Her breathing faltered.
"When I thought I'd lost you," Ling said hoarsely,
"I broke."
"I punch walls for sport," she said.
"I don't cry."
"I don't panic."
She looked up again, eyes shining.
"But I did."
Rhea's fingers curled unconsciously.
"You slept in my arms," Ling said.
"And I stayed awake."
She smiled faintly, painfully.
"I kept telling myself—this ends."
"Tomorrow, I'll be cold again."
Her voice softened.
"But every day after," she said,
"I looked for you without wanting to."
A pause.
"You got hurt—I felt it."
"You ignored me—I lost my mind."
"You smiled at someone else—"
She stopped herself.
Her grip on the flower tightened.
"That's when I knew," Ling said quietly.
"This wasn't anger."
She lifted the flower a little higher.
"I don't know how to be gentle with words," she admitted.
"I only know how to show up."
"How to protect."
"How to stay."
Her voice shook for the first time.
"So I'm here."
A beat.
"Not as a bet."
"Not as a condition."
She met Rhea's eyes.
"Just… me."
The room held its breath.
Ling stayed kneeling.
Waiting.
Rhea inhaled sharply.
She stepped back, forcing a laugh that didn't reach her eyes.
"I get it," she said.
"You're joking."
Ling didn't move.
Rhea picked up her bag.
"Don't joke like this," she added, lighter, sharper.
"I'm leaving. We'll meet tomorrow."
She turned.
Ling moved.
Fast.
Her arms wrapped around Rhea from behind, pulling her back hard—too hard to pretend it was casual. Rhea's spine hit Ling's chest, breath knocked loose.
"Ling—"
Ling's face dropped into the curve of Rhea's neck.
Her nose pressed there first.
Then her lips—barely touching skin.
Her eyes closed.
Her hold tightened.
"Don't," Ling said, voice breaking against Rhea's skin.
"Don't say it like that."
"Like this is nothing," Ling whispered.
"Like I didn't just tear myself open in front of you."
Rhea tried to pull her hands away. Ling didn't let go.
"You walk away," Ling continued, breath uneven,
"and I feel it here."
Her grip shifted—one hand firm at Rhea's waist, the other flat against her stomach, grounding her.
"I lose my breath," Ling said quietly.
"And you keep breathing like it's easy."
Rhea swallowed. "You're holding me too tight."
"I know," Ling replied.
Her voice softened—but her arms didn't.
"If I loosen, you'll go."
Her lips brushed Rhea's neck again.
A confession that didn't know how to be gentle.
"I'm not joking," Ling said.
"I don't joke when I'm scared."
Rhea whispered, "Scared of what?"
Ling's forehead rested against her shoulder.
"Of wanting someone who can destroy me," she said.
"Of standing still while you decide I'm disposable."
Rhea's fingers trembled.
"I don't do this," Ling went on.
"I don't chase."
"I don't beg."
Her breath hitched.
"But you walk away," she said,
"and everything I've built—discipline, control, silence—
it collapses."
Rhea's voice was unsteady.
"You're making this bigger than it is."
Ling laughed softly—broken.
"No," she said.
"I'm finally saying how big it's been from the start."
"You make me angry because you matter."
"You scare me because you don't need me."
"And I—"
She stopped, swallowed hard.
"I'm standing here," Ling finished,
"holding you like this, because if I don't—
I don't know how to exist when you're gone."
Silence.
Rhea turned.
Ling didn't give her time to speak.
"I don't know what you'll say," Ling said quickly, voice rough, urgent.
"But I have to do this."
She lifted Rhea.
Clean. Strong. Effortless.
Rhea gasped, instinctively gripping Ling's shoulders.
"Ling—"
Ling didn't answer.
She carried her to the bed and laid her down carefully, like something fragile she didn't trust herself with. Then she followed—hovering over her, bracing her weight on her arms.
For a second, Ling closed her eyes.
As if steadying herself.
"As agreed," Ling said quietly.
"One minute."
Her voice dropped.
"After that… you decide."
Rhea's heart was pounding.
"You're insane."
Ling smiled faintly.
"I know."
She leaned closer—not touching yet.
"I didn't bring you here to trap you," Ling said.
"I brought you here because I couldn't let you leave thinking this was a joke."
Her forehead rested briefly against Rhea's.
"I've never wanted anyone's choice," Ling continued.
"I'm used to taking."
She inhaled shakily.
"But you?"
"I want you to stay because you want to."
Rhea whispered, "I do___ don't."
Ling's lips curved slightly.
Then, softer—almost embarrassed—
"I even prepared."
Her ears turned red.
"I ate twenty strawberry bubbles," she admitted.
Rhea stared.
Ling nodded.
"So I'd taste right."
"So I'd smell… good to you."
Her voice dropped.
"Stupid, right?"
Rhea didn't answer.
Ling leaned down slowly, giving Rhea time to stop her.
She didn't.
The petals hovered between them.
And for the first time—
Ling Kwong waited.