Rhea tilted her head suddenly, mischief sliding back into her eyes like she'd never cried five minutes ago.
"Truth and dare," she said.
Ling rolled her eyes, already smiling. "I know you. You're not interested in the game. Come to the point. What do you want to know?"
Rhea's lips curved slowly. "Fine." She shifted, sitting straighter, facing Ling fully now. "Truth."
Ling folded her arms. "Ask."
Rhea leaned in just a little, eyes sharp. "How did you know about the shirt pic?"
Ling blinked once.
Then she smiled.
Not smug. Not teasing.
Soft. Almost fond.
"That's what you're stuck on?" Ling asked.
Rhea crossed her arms, mirroring her. "You accused me very confidently. And no, I didn't post it. No likes. No views. So don't say magic."
Ling chuckled. "You always think I stalk you digitally."
"Do you not?"
Ling shrugged. "Sometimes."
Rhea narrowed her eyes. "Ling."
Ling sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. Truth."
She leaned back against the headboard, eyes lifting to the ceiling like she was replaying something.
"I didn't see it online," Ling said calmly.
Rhea's frown deepened. "Then how—"
Ling looked back at her. "I saw it deleted."
Rhea froze. "…What?"
Ling continued, voice steady, almost casual. "You took the picture. You stared at it for a long time. You smiled. Then you deleted it."
Rhea's heart skipped. "That's not an answer."
"It is."
"No, it's creepy."
Ling laughed quietly. "Listen before you accuse me of hiding in your ceiling."
Rhea muttered, "Wouldn't surprise me."
Ling ignored that. "When I left your mansion that night, I didn't go straight home."
Rhea's breath caught. "Ling—"
"I sat in the car," Ling said. "Outside."
Rhea swallowed. "…Go on."
Ling's eyes softened. "Your room light was still on."
Rhea's voice was barely above a whisper. "You watched?"
"I looked," Ling corrected. "Once. Not like a creep."
Rhea scoffed weakly. "Very convincing."
Ling smirked. "You were pacing. Talking to yourself. Then you held my shirt."
Rhea closed her eyes.
Ling continued, gentle but relentless. "You buried your face in it. Smiled like an idiot. Then you went to the mirror."
Rhea opened her eyes slowly. "You saw that?"
Ling nodded. "From outside. Through the glass. You wrapped it around yourself exactly how I did."
Rhea's ears burned. "Oh my god."
"And then," Ling added quietly, "you took the picture."
Rhea whispered, "I didn't post it."
"I know," Ling said. "Because five seconds later, your smile faded. You looked scared. And you deleted it."
Rhea stared at her, chest tight. "You saw all that… and didn't say anything?"
Ling shrugged lightly. "Didn't need to."
"That's unfair," Rhea said.
Ling leaned forward now, elbows on knees. "You smiling in my shirt told me more than any post ever could."
Rhea bit her lip. "That was… the last thing I expected."
Ling smiled softly. "You asked."
Rhea shook her head slowly, half embarrassed, half overwhelmed. "So when I saw it deleted and smiled… you already knew."
Ling nodded. "You weren't hiding from me. You were hiding from yourself."
Rhea looked away. "I hate how well you read me."
Ling teased, "You love it."
Rhea sighed. "…Maybe."
She glanced back. "Your turn."
Ling raised a brow. "Truth or dare?"
Rhea smirked. "Truth."
Ling leaned in, eyes glinting. "Why did you delete it?"
Rhea didn't answer immediately.
Then, honestly: "Because if you saw it… I wouldn't be able to pretend anymore."
Ling's smile softened into something dangerous and warm. "Too late."
Rhea groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have played."
Ling laughed, pulling her closer again. "You started it."
Rhea rested her forehead against Ling's shoulder, muttering, "Next time, I'm choosing dare."
Ling whispered back, amused, "I'll be ready."
Rhea didn't look at her immediately.
She stayed there, forehead against Ling's shoulder, fingers twisting the fabric of Ling's shirt like she needed something solid to hold onto. The room was quiet except for the muted hum of the city outside and the paused movie still glowing faintly on the screen.
"Truth," Rhea said again, softer now.
Ling's hand stilled at Rhea's waist. "You already chose."
Rhea exhaled slowly and finally lifted her head. Her eyes weren't playful this time. They were sharp, heavy, almost angry at themselves.
"Proposal night," Rhea said. "Don't dodge."
Ling didn't move. Didn't smile. Didn't tease.
"…Ask," she said.
Rhea swallowed. "Why did you kneel?"
Ling's jaw tightened.
"You don't kneel," Rhea continued, voice low but relentless. "You don't bend. You don't ask. And that night you did all three." She searched Ling's face. "Why?"
For a moment, Ling said nothing.
Then she leaned back against the headboard, eyes fixed straight ahead, like if she looked at Rhea she might lose control of the words.
"Because I was already losing," Ling said quietly.
Rhea frowned. "Losing what?"
"You," Ling replied.
Rhea stiffened. "That doesn't make sense. I was right there."
Ling finally looked at her. Her eyes were dark, unguarded in a way Rhea had rarely seen.
"You were there," Ling said. "But you weren't staying."
Rhea's lips parted. "Ling—"
"Let me finish," Ling cut in, not harshly, but firmly.
She took a breath. "I knew something was off. The way you held me. The way you kissed like you were memorizing instead of choosing. You were slipping, Rhea. I could feel it."
Rhea's chest tightened.
"So I did the one thing I've never done in my life," Ling continued. "I put myself below you."
Rhea shook her head. "That's not—"
"I knelt," Ling said, voice steady but raw, "because I wanted you to see me vulnerable. I wanted you to feel responsible for me."
Rhea whispered, "That's not fair."
Ling smiled bitterly. "Obsession never is."
Silence stretched between them.
Rhea finally asked, almost afraid of the answer, "And the flower?"