Ling's lips finally met Rhea's—gentle at first, careful, like she was afraid of breaking something precious. No rush. No hunger yet. Just warmth. Presence. Intention.
Her hand slid to Rhea's waist—not roaming, just holding.
"I won't steal more than a minute," Ling murmured between soft presses of her lips.
"I swear."
Ling's forehead rested against Rhea's again.
"One minute," she repeated softly.
"Then you tell me."
Stay.
Or go.
Ling leaned in again.
Her weight settled carefully between Rhea's legs, close enough that Rhea could feel the heat of her body without being crushed by it. Ling's breath brushed Rhea's cheek, uneven now—control thinning, not gone.
One hand slid down.
It stopped at Rhea's thigh.
Right where the slit of her dress opened.
Her palm rested there, warm, steady, claiming space. Her thumb pressed lightly at first, then firmer—enough to remind Rhea she was there, enough to make her breath hitch.
Rhea whispered, "Ling…"
Ling didn't answer.
Her other hand moved to Rhea's stomach.
Her thumb found the navel.
Pressed.
Not painfully—but deliberate. Grounding. Hard. Possessive in a way Ling didn't have words for. She held it there, feeling the sharp intake of Rhea's breath beneath her touch.
"You feel everything," Ling murmured, almost to herself.
"And pretend you don't."
Then she kissed her.
This time she didn't calculate the pressure.
Her lips pressed harder than intended—hungry, urgent, like she was afraid time was running faster than it was. The kiss wasn't careful anymore. It was still restrained—but barely.
Rhea gasped softly into it.
Ling froze for half a second.
She pulled back just enough, eyes closed, forehead resting against Rhea's.
"I didn't mean to—" she breathed.
Her thumb was still at Rhea's navel.
Her hand still on her thigh.
She didn't move them away.
"I forget myself around you," Ling confessed quietly.
"That scares me."
Her lips hovered again, brushing Rhea's—lighter now, controlled again, but the tension remained. Her hands stayed exactly where they were.
Holding.
Feeling.
Counting seconds she no longer trusted herself to track.
"One minute," Ling whispered again.
"Just one."
And even that—
felt like too much and not enough at the same time.
Ling kissed her again.
This time slower.
As if she'd learned from the first mistake and still refused to retreat.
Her lips brushed Rhea's once—light, testing—then settled, firm but controlled. Not rushing, not claiming more than she had promised herself. The kiss carried weight instead of hunger, pressure instead of urgency.
Rhea's breath caught.
Ling felt it immediately.
Her hand on Rhea's thigh tightened—just holding. Anchoring herself there. Her thumb at Rhea's navel pressed again, instinctive, grounding, as if that single point was the only thing keeping her from losing balance completely.
She broke the kiss just enough to speak, her mouth still close, words warm against Rhea's lips.
"I'm trying," Ling whispered.
"To stay inside the minute."
Then she kissed her again.
Softer now.
Almost reverent.
Her forehead rested briefly against Rhea's when she pulled back, breath uneven, eyes still closed as if opening them would shatter the moment.
"You don't have to respond," Ling said quietly.
"Just… don't disappear while I'm here."
She stayed hovering over Rhea, kissing, hands still where they were, not taking, not retreating.
Rhea's breath fractured.
Suddenly—too suddenly—clarity hit her.
What am I doing?
What is this turning into?
Her chest tightened.
This wasn't strategy anymore.
This wasn't control.
This was wanting.
And that realization terrified her more than any revenge plan ever had.
Ling broke the kiss herself, breath uneven, and moved instinctively—her lips drifting to that small mole between Rhea's jaw and neck. The place she always noticed. The place she tried not to think about.
She pressed a soft kiss there.
Rhea's eyes burned.
Tears slipped out without warning.
Ling froze instantly.
She pulled back, panic flooding her face.
"I—" her voice stumbled.
"I'm sorry."
Her hands lifted, hovering, afraid to touch again.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," Ling said quickly.
"I swear I didn't— I thought—"
Rhea pushed her.
Hard.
She sat up, then stood, wiping her face angrily, as if the tears offended her.
"I have to go."
Her voice was sharp, cracked underneath.
Ling stood too fast.
"Rhea, wait."
She reached for her wrist again—then stopped herself halfway.
"I won't force you," Ling said, breath shaking.
"But don't leave like this."
Rhea turned, eyes blazing, wet, furious—at Ling, at herself.
"This is a mistake," Rhea said.
"All of it."
Ling shook her head.
"Then why were you shaking too?"
Rhea flinched.
"That doesn't mean anything," she snapped.
"It meant nothing."
Ling swallowed hard.
"It meant something to me."
Rhea grabbed her bag.
"This ends tonight."
She moved toward the door.
Ling followed, voice low, raw.
"You said one minute."
Rhea's hand paused on the handle.
Her shoulders trembled—just once.
Then she said quietly, without turning back:
"That minute was the problem."
Ling reached the door before it could open.
Her palm hit the wood beside Rhea's head—not trapping, not violent—but final. Her other hand caught Rhea's wrist and pressed it gently but firmly back against the door.
"Don't," Ling said, breath uneven.
"Don't leave like this."
Rhea's back met the door. She tried to turn away.
"Stay away from me," Rhea said, voice sharp—but shaking.
She stayed exactly where she was, giving space even while blocking the exit.
"I hear you," Ling said quickly.
"I swear I do."
Her voice cracked.
"But listen to me for one second."
Rhea laughed bitterly. "You already did enough."
Ling shook her head. Tears slipped free, uncontrolled, tracing down her jaw.
"I didn't mean to do anything you didn't want," Ling said.
"Not the kiss. Not the touch. Not any of it."
Her chest rose sharply.
"I thought you won't hate it," she whispered.
" I misread everything."
Rhea's eyes burned. She knew if she spoke, the truth would spill—so she stayed silent.
Ling mistook it.
Her grip loosened slightly, panic replacing confidence.
"If you didn't like it," Ling continued, voice breaking,
"say it. I'll step back. I'll disappear if you want."
Another tear fell.
"I can take rejection," Ling said.
"I can't take not knowing if I hurt you."
Rhea turned her face away.
"That's not the problem," she said tightly.
Ling froze. "Then what is?"
Rhea's breath trembled.
Because the truth was worse.
Because for one minute—
she had forgotten Kane.
Forgotten revenge.
Forgotten why she came.
And that terrified her.
"You don't get it," Rhea said, voice low, raw.
"What you did—how you looked at me—"
She swallowed hard.
"It made me forget who I am."
Ling's eyes widened.
Rhea pushed lightly against Ling's chest, not to escape—just to create distance.
"That scares me," Rhea admitted.
"So stay away."
Ling didn't let go.
But she softened.
Her voice barely audible.
"I'm scared too," Ling whispered.
"Because I've never wanted someone who could walk away and ruin me."
Rhea's eyes closed.
This wasn't manipulation.
This was collapse.
Ling lifted her head, meeting Rhea's gaze—eyes red, open, unguarded.
"I won't force you," Ling said quietly.
"But don't tell me this was nothing."
Rhea's chest ached.
Because it wasn't nothing.
It was too much.
And that—
was exactly why she wanted to leave.