Dadi entered quietly, her usual chaotic energy softened the moment her eyes landed on the bed.
Ling—pale, wrapped in blankets, Eliza sitting guard beside her.
Dadi's smile faltered.
"How's my lion?" she asked gently.
Eliza looked up.
"She's okay," she said, firm but tired.
"Just exhausted."
Dadi nodded once, understanding more than was said.
Eliza leaned down slightly and brushed Ling's hair back.
"Ling," she murmured,
"Dadi is here."
Ling's lashes fluttered.
She opened her eyes slowly.
The moment she saw Dadi, her control shattered.
Her eyes filled instantly, tears pooling without warning, as if her body had been waiting for permission.
"Dadi…" Ling whispered.
Dadi crossed the room in two steps and sat on the edge of the bed, not teasing, not joking. She reached out and cupped Ling's cheek, her thumb wiping away a tear.
"Oh no," Dadi said softly.
"Not my brave girl."
Ling tried to smile. Failed. Her lip trembled.
"I tried," Ling said, voice breaking.
"I really tried to be… disciplined."
Dadi's eyes shone.
"I know," she replied quietly.
"You always do."
Ling's tears slipped free, silent and relentless.
Dadi bent forward and pressed her forehead to Ling's.
"You didn't fail," she whispered.
"You just felt."
Ling let out a broken sound, halfway between a sob and a breath, and reached weakly for Dadi's sleeve.
Dadi took her hand immediately, squeezing it.
"I'm here," she said.
"Rest now. Cry if you need. I'll sit."
Ling closed her eyes again, still crying softly, but her grip tightened around Dadi's fingers—as if holding on to proof that she wasn't alone.
Eliza watched them, heart aching, and for the first time since last night, allowed herself to breathe.
The soft knock came at the door.
A servant entered quietly, a breakfast tray balanced carefully in her hands—warm porridge, fresh fruit, herbal tea, light toast. Nothing heavy. Nothing harsh.
Eliza stood at once.
"Leave it," she said gently.
"I'll handle it."
The servant nodded and withdrew.
Eliza brought the tray closer to the bed and sat beside Ling again. She lifted the spoon, testing the temperature first, the way she always did.
"Open your mouth," Eliza said softly.
Ling shook her head faintly.
"I'm not hungry."
Eliza didn't argue. She never did.
"Just one bite," she said calmly.
"For me."
Ling hesitated, then obeyed. The spoon touched her lips. She swallowed slowly, eyes unfocused.
"There," Eliza murmured.
"Good."
Dadi leaned back in her chair, watching carefully, then clapped her hands once—not loud, just enough to shift the air.
"So," Dadi said, forcing brightness,
"should I tell you the story of how you once cried because your shoes were tighter on the left foot?"
Ling's brows knit slightly.
"Dadi…"
Dadi grinned.
"You were five. You declared injustice."
Ling's lips twitched despite herself.
Eliza fed her another spoonful.
"And," Dadi continued, warming up,
"you threatened to sue the universe."
Ling let out a weak breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"I didn't," she muttered.
"You absolutely did," Dadi said proudly.
"I remember because I supported you."
Eliza shot Dadi a small warning look—but she didn't stop feeding Ling.
"Eat," Eliza said softly.
"Then you can scold her."
Ling managed a faint smile this time.
Dadi leaned closer, voice dropping into something more tender.
"You don't have to be strong today," she said.
"Today you just exist. I'll do the teasing later."
Ling swallowed again, eyes stinging, but she didn't refuse the next bite.
The room stayed quiet after that—not empty, not heavy.
Just full of care.
And Ling, for the first time since the night before, wasn't alone with her breaking.
The door burst open without a knock.
Rina walked in, tablet in hand, eyes bright, energy too loud for the quiet room.
"BREAKING NEWS," she announced dramatically.
"Her Majesty still rules."
Eliza turned.
"Rina—"
"First," Rina said, grinning wide.
"As always."
Ling lifted her head slightly, confusion crossing her face.
"What?"
Rina crossed the room and held the tablet in front of her.
"University results," she said.
"Top of the list. Again."
Ling stared at the screen for a second.
Her name sat there—untouched, unchallenged.
First.
Dadi snorted.
"Of course she is."
Eliza exhaled, something tight loosening in her chest.
"I told you," she said softly.
"You're still you."
Ling looked away.
"It doesn't feel like it," she murmured.
Rina's smile faded just a little. She sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey," she said.
"You didn't lose your brain because you felt something."
Ling didn't answer.
Rina nudged her shoulder gently.
"You can be first and still be hurting," she added.
"Multitasking. Very on-brand."
A ghost of a smile appeared at the corner of Ling's mouth.
Dadi leaned forward.
"See?" she said.
"Even heartbreak can't dethrone you."
Ling lay back against the pillows, the tray forgotten, the room quiet again.
Her hand moved before she decided to let it.
She reached for her phone.
Eliza noticed—but didn't stop her.
Ling unlocked the screen. Her thumb hovered, hesitated, then typed a name she pretended she didn't know by heart.
Rhea Nior.
The profile loaded.
Ling's breath caught.
Rhea's picture filled the screen—sharp, composed, devastatingly calm. Chin lifted slightly. Eyes unreadable. Lips relaxed in that familiar way that always looked like confidence but hid storms underneath.
No smile.
Ling swallowed.
"You look fine," she whispered to the screen, voice barely there.
"Of course you do."
She zoomed in without meaning to. The curve of Rhea's jaw. The mole near her neck. The same place Ling's lips had been hours ago.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Ling scrolled.
No new posts.
No stories.
No trace of last night.
"So it meant nothing," Ling murmured, bitterness creeping in despite herself.
Her fingers trembled as she locked the phone—but a second later, she unlocked it again. Her thumb hovered over the message icon.
She didn't type.
She couldn't.
"What if you hated it," Ling whispered.
"What if you hated me."
Her eyes burned.
Dadi watched quietly from her chair, saying nothing for once.
Eliza shifted closer, her hand resting over Ling's forearm—not stopping, not pushing. Just grounding.
Ling turned the phone face down on her chest and closed her eyes.
"I wasn't joking," she said suddenly, voice breaking.
"Not even for a second."
No one answered.
The silence understood her too well.
Ling inhaled shakily, clutching the phone like it was proof Rhea still existed somewhere in the world—and hadn't just vanished from her life entirely.
Outside, the mansion moved on.
Inside, Ling stayed still, staring at the dark screen, wondering if this was what losing control actually felt like.