Ling doesn't give Rhea time to say anything.
She grabs Rhea's wrist—firm, not rough—and pulls her toward the couch.
"Sit," Ling says.
Rhea stumbles slightly. "Ling—"
"Sit," Ling repeats, voice sharp.
Rhea sits.
Ling crouches in front of her immediately, pulling the small medical kit from the drawer like she's done this a hundred times before. Her jaw is tight, eyes dark, movements controlled but fast.
She lifts Rhea's leg without asking.
Rhea flinches. "Hey—"
Ling looks up instantly. "Does it hurt?"
Rhea pauses, then softer, "A little."
Ling exhales through her nose and lowers her voice. "Of course it does."
She cleans the scrape carefully. Too carefully. Like she's afraid pressure alone might break something else.
As she wraps the bandage, she speaks without looking up.
"Why did you come through the window?" Ling asks. "Have you lost your mind?"
Rhea scoffs weakly. "Nice to see you too."
Ling tightens the bandage just enough for Rhea to hiss.
"That's for climbing walls," Ling says coldly.
Rhea pulls her leg back slightly. "Don't act like I did it for fun."
Ling looks up now, anger flashing. "Then why?"
"Because you wouldn't answer," Rhea snaps. "Because you walked away like I meant nothing."
Ling stands abruptly. "I walked away because you called me a pervert."
Rhea's voice cracks. "I didn't mean it like that."
Ling laughs once—short, bitter. "Funny. It sounded very clear."
Rhea pushes herself up from the couch despite the pain. "You think I'd come all this way if I didn't care?"
Ling gestures toward the bandage. "You think caring looks like this? Sneaking into my house, bleeding, risking security?"
Rhea fires back, "You think shutting me out is better?"
Ling's anger falters when she looks at Rhea properly—messy hair, pale face, stubborn eyes trying not to cry.
Her voice drops. "You're hurt."
"So?" Rhea snaps. "You are too."
That lands.
Ling turns away for a second, rubbing her face. When she speaks again, her tone is hard, protective, final.
"You have to go."
Rhea freezes. "What?"
Ling faces her. "You can't stay here."
Rhea stares at her like she's misheard. "Ling, I told my mom I'm staying at Zifa's tonight. If I leave now—"
Ling interrupts, firm. "Then stay at Zifa's mansion."
Rhea's brows knit. "What are you saying?"
Ling grabs her jacket, already moving. "I'll drop you."
Rhea steps in front of her. "You're kicking me out?"
Ling's eyes flash. "I'm keeping you safe."
"From what?" Rhea demands. "You?"
Ling's jaw tightens. "From me being stupid enough to let you stay when you're hurt."
Rhea's voice lowers, controlled but emotional. "I didn't come here to fight."
Ling exhales sharply. "Neither did I. And look where we are."
Silence stretches.
Rhea finally says, quieter, "I didn't come for this."
Ling doesn't answer immediately.
Then, softer—but still guarded—
"Get your bag."
Rhea looks up. "You're really doing this?"
Ling nods once. "Yes."
Rhea turned toward door.
Ling steps in front of the door before Rhea can reach it.
"I'll drop you," Ling says, voice low, controlled.
Rhea doesn't slow down. "No need."
She reaches for the handle.
Ling's hand comes down over it—blocking, not grabbing. "Anyone can see you."
Rhea finally looks at her, eyes sharp, shining. "I'm going. Doesn't matter."
"Rhea—"
"I said I'm going."
Ling exhales, frustration cracking through. "You don't even have a car."
"I'll call Zifa."
"You're bleeding."
"I don't care."
Ling's jaw tightens. "Stop acting like this."
That's when Rhea snaps.
She shoves Ling back—not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to mean it.
"Fuck you."
Ling freezes.
Rhea's voice is shaking now, words tumbling out fast, ugly, honest.
"I don't need this. I don't need you acting like you're some martyr."
Ling blinks. "Rhea—"
"I was wrong," Rhea continues, voice rising. "I came here. I lied to my mom. I sneaked like a thief. I cried on the way. I fell. I bled. And for what?"
She laughs once, hollow. "For you to tell me to leave."
Ling's composure fractures. "I told you to leave because—"
"Because what?" Rhea cuts in. "You're hurt? Because you're angry? Because you don't want to look at me?"
Ling steps closer. "Because you___."
Rhea scoffs bitterly. "That's your excuse for everything."
Ling's voice drops. "You think this is easy for me?"
Rhea's eyes burn. "I didn't ask for easy. I asked for you to not walk away."
Silence stretches, thick and suffocating.
Ling finally says, quieter, "You shouldn't have come."
That does it.
Rhea's lips tremble. "I know."
She wipes her face roughly with her sleeve, turns back to the door.
"I'm leaving."
Ling reaches out instinctively, fingers brushing Rhea's wrist.
Rhea jerks away immediately. "Don't."
Ling's hand hangs in the air.
Rhea doesn't look back. "I hate that I came."
Ling's voice breaks just a fraction. "You don't mean that."
Rhea pauses at the door, shoulders tense.
"I don't know what I mean anymore," she says softly. "But I know I can't stay here."
She opens the door.
Ling watches her walk out—
every step loud, final, wrong—
knowing if she lets her go like this, something irreversible will happen.
The door closes.