Morning light filtered softly into Rhea's room. She shifted, still half-asleep, and frowned when she felt her phone warm against her cheek.
A faint sound registered.
Breathing.
Slow. Deep. Familiar.
Rhea's eyes snapped open.
The call was still connected.
She froze, staring at the screen like it might disappear if she moved. Then she carefully lifted the phone away from her face and listened.
Ling's breathing—steady, calm, completely asleep.
Rhea's lips curved despite herself. "Idiot…" she whispered, voice barely there.
She lay back down, careful not to make a sound, holding the phone close again. For a moment she just listened, counting the breaths, the tiny pauses between them. Ling never slept this peacefully. Never.
Rhea brushed her thumb lightly over the screen, as if Ling could feel it.
"You stayed," she murmured. "Even after I slept."
No answer. Just that soft exhale.
Rhea turned onto her side, hugging the pillow tighter. The morning didn't feel lonely. It felt… shared.
On the other end, Ling shifted slightly, a quiet sound escaping her throat, like she was adjusting around someone who wasn't physically there but still present somehow.
Rhea smiled wider. "You're still clinging," she teased softly, knowing Ling couldn't hear.
She debated hanging up—she should, really. Morning would start any second. Shyra, Amaya, her mother's voice, reality.
But she didn't.
Instead, she whispered, honest and unguarded, "I didn't leave."
Ling breathed in, deeper this time, like her body understood even if her mind didn't.
Rhea closed her eyes again, just for a minute, letting herself pretend they'd woken up the same way—in the same room, tangled together, no lies, no sneaking, no running.
Eventually, a tiny movement came through the phone.
Ling's voice, rough with sleep, barely a sound.
"…Rhea?"
Rhea's breath caught.
"Hmm," she answered immediately, soft but clear.
There was a pause—then a sleepy, relieved exhale from Ling.
"Good," Ling murmured. "Don't go."
Rhea smiled into the morning.
She finally ended the call only after Ling's breathing deepened again, certain she was fully asleep this time. She stared at the blank screen for a few seconds, then exhaled slowly, as if she'd been holding her breath all night.
She went to the bathroom.
The moment warm water hit her skin, memories came uninvited.
Ling leaning against the counter, pretending not to stare.
Ling's voice—lazy, teasing—"Why are you blushing? I'm just standing. Glass is opaque, I can't see."
The way her eyes had followed Rhea without shame, without hiding it, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Rhea closed her eyes under the stream and groaned softly. "So annoying…" she muttered, though her lips betrayed her with a smile.
She washed her hair slower than usual, replaying stupid details she didn't need to remember: Ling's crooked smile, the way she tilted her head when she was amused, the softness she only showed when she thought no one was looking.
By the time she stepped out, towel wrapped around her, her mind felt too full.
She went straight to her room—and stopped.
Her wardrobe door was open.
Rhea frowned. She normally grabbed whatever was closest. Jeans. Shirt. Done. Planning outfits was not her thing.
Yet she found herself pulling clothes out.
Uniform skirt. Put it aside.
Another one. No.
Shirt—too plain.
Another—too formal.
She paused, hands resting on the edge of the bed.
"What am I doing?" she asked herself.
Tomorrow was just university. Same halls. Same people. Same routine.
And yet—
She imagined Ling seeing her. Noticing. Teasing. That small, satisfied smile.
Rhea clicked her tongue, annoyed at herself, but continued anyway.
She laid out an outfit carefully. Then adjusted it. Then changed the shirt. Then folded it neatly, something she never did.
She stepped back, arms crossed, inspecting it like it mattered.
"It doesn't," she told herself firmly.
But she still left it there, ready.
Rhea sat on the edge of the bed, towel slipping a little as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Tomorrow," she murmured, unsure whether she meant the day… or Ling.
For the first time in a long while, Rhea planned what she'd wear in the morning—and exactly who she'd be thinking about when she did.
Rhea's eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Ling's black shirt was folded, half-hidden beneath a book like a secret she hadn't meant to keep.
She stood up slowly.
For a moment she just stared at it, then shook her head. "Stupid," she muttered—yet her hands were already reaching for it.
The fabric was soft, still carrying Ling's faint scent. Rhea unfolded it carefully, almost reverently, as if it might disappear if she moved too fast. She held it up, inspecting it in the mirror.
"Too big," she said aloud.
She slipped it over her head anyway.
The shirt fell past her hips, loose around her shoulders, the sleeves almost swallowing her hands. Rhea glanced at her reflection—and froze.
It looked wrong.
And right.
She turned slightly, tugged the hem down, then stopped touching it altogether. Her fingers curled into the fabric unconsciously, right over her chest.
"…unbelievable," she whispered.
She sat on the bed, knees drawn up, the shirt pooling around her. Without thinking, she lifted the collar and pressed it lightly to her face, inhaling. Her eyes closed.
Ling's voice echoed in her head—"You steal my clothes like you own me."
Rhea scoffed softly. "As if you'd ever complain."
She picked up her phone, thumb hovering over Ling's name.
Don't text.
You'll wake her.
She needs sleep.
Rhea locked the screen again, dropping the phone beside her.
She lay back, staring at the ceiling, black fabric warm against her skin.
"If you knew," she murmured quietly, almost like a confession, "you'd laugh so hard."
She rolled onto her side, hugging a pillow, the oversized shirt slipping up her thigh. Her expression softened, defenses lowering in the dark where no one could see her.
"Sleep," she told herself firmly. "Just sleep."
Somewhere across the city, Ling stirred in her bed—restless, unsettled—turning toward the empty space beside her, as if instinctively reaching for something that wasn't there.
And Rhea, wrapped in Ling's shirt.