The door shuts.
Not slammed.
Just closed.
Kane is gone.
The silence she leaves behind is heavier than her voice ever was.
Ling doesn't move at first.
Then she laughs.
A short, cracked sound — wrong on her.
She drags a hand through her hair, pacing once, twice, then stopping in front of the table.
"God," Ling mutters, voice shaking.
"I actually—"
She laughs again. Louder this time. Meaner.
"I actually thought—"
She chokes.
"I really thought—"
Rhea steps forward instinctively.
"Ling—"
Ling snaps around.
"Don't," she says sharply.
Rhea freezes.
Ling bends down, picks up the bouquet from the floor. Crushed petals. Broken stems.
She holds it up between them.
"I bought these," Ling says, voice trembling now.
"I stood in traffic choosing flowers like some idiot."
She tosses them onto the bed.
Then she shrugs off her emerald blazer — the one she only wears when something matters.
She throws it after the flowers.
"And this," Ling continues, breath uneven.
"I wore this because I thought tonight meant something."
Her voice cracks fully now.
She sinks onto the edge of the bed, hands gripping her knees.
"I ignored my family," Ling whispers.
"I argued with my mother."
"I defended you like a fool."
Rhea rushes to her, kneeling in front of her.
"Ling, please— listen—"
Ling doesn't push her away.
That's worse.
"Your mother was right," Ling says, voice breaking completely.
"She was right about me."
"I was so dumb," Ling sobs suddenly, the word tearing out of her.
"So fucking dumb."
She presses her palms into her eyes, shoulders shaking.
Rhea reaches for Ling's wrists, trying to pull her hands down.
"No," Rhea says desperately.
"No, she wasn't—"
Ling lets her.
Her face is wet now. Red. Unrecognizable.
"You laughed about me," Ling whispers.
"You laughed."
"I didn't mean it like that," Rhea cries.
"You don't understand—"
Ling shakes her head, slow, defeated.
"I don't think I want to," she says softly.
She looks at Rhea — really looks.
"I would've given you everything," Ling says.
"And you made a joke out of it."
Rhea breaks down fully now, hands trembling as she tries to hold Ling's face.
"Please," Rhea begs.
"I'm here. I'm not leaving."
Ling closes her eyes at that.
A tear slips out anyway.
"That's the problem," Ling whispers.
"You already left."
She gently removes Rhea's hands from her face.
Not angry.
Not violent.
Final.
Ling stands.
She straightens her shirt. Wipes her face once. Puts the mask back on.
When she speaks again, her voice is steady — terrifyingly so.
"Don't touch me," Ling says quietly.
"Not tonight."
She walks toward the door.
Rhea grabs her sleeve.
Ling stops — just for a second.
Without turning back, she says:
"You don't get to comfort the damage you caused."
Her hand closes around the handle.
That's when Rhea moves.
She grabs Ling's wrist, spins her, and pins her hard against the wall.
The sound is sharp. Final.
Ling doesn't resist.
That's what breaks Rhea.
Rhea presses closer — too close.
Forehead to forehead.
Noses brushing.
Both of them wet with tears, breaths colliding, uneven and broken.
"Ling," Rhea sobs.
"I was about to tell you. I swear."
Ling lets out a laugh that isn't a laugh at all.
Her head tips back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.
"You ruined me," Ling says hoarsely.
Rhea shakes her head violently.
"No— no, please—"
Ling opens her eyes.
They're red. Raw. Empty and furious all at once.
"Congratulations," Ling whispers.
"You succeeded."
Her chest rises sharply.
"I'm weak," Ling says, voice cracking on the word.
"Finally broken. Exactly like you wanted."
Rhea's hands tighten at Ling's wrists, desperate.
"That's not true," Rhea cries.
"That was before— you don't understand—"
Ling presses her forehead harder against Rhea's, almost painful.
"Oh, I understand," Ling says quietly.
"I understand why you stayed."
"I understand why you touched me."
"I understand why you smiled."
Her voice drops to a whisper that cuts deeper than shouting.
"You needed me weak."
Rhea sobs openly now, tears spilling onto Ling's cheeks.
"I was trying to save you," Rhea says through tears.
"I was trying to save us."
Ling closes her eyes again.
Something collapses inside her completely.
"There is no 'us,'" Ling says softly.
"There never was."
Rhea's breath stutters.
Ling's hands finally move — not to hold, not to push — just to remove Rhea's grip from her wrists.
Slow. Controlled. Final.
She steps back half an inch.
Just enough to breathe without Rhea's mouth on hers.
"You don't get to say sorry," Ling says.
"And you don't get to explain."
She looks straight into Rhea's eyes.
"You wanted to see me fall," Ling says.
"See I fell."
Ling doesn't fight it.
That's what destroys Rhea.
They end up pressed together again — chest to chest, forehead touching, noses brushing, tears mixing without permission.
Rhea was shaking.
"So close," Rhea sobs.
"I was about to tell you. I swear. I was going to tell you everything."
Ling lets out a broken laugh — hollow, ugly, unfamiliar.
She tilts her head back against the wall, eyes glassy, unfocused.
"Don't," Ling whispers.
Rhea presses closer, desperate, crying openly now.
"I never wanted this to happen like this—"Rhea says.
Ling's eyes snap back to hers.
"You never loved me," Ling says quietly.
The room stills.
Rhea freezes.
Ling's voice breaks completely now — stripped of dominance, stripped of pride.
"You don't destroy someone you love," Ling says.
"You don't laugh about them."
"You don't plan them."
Her chest rises sharply, breath hitching.
"I thought you chose me," Ling whispers.
"I thought I was different."
She presses her forehead harder into Rhea's, almost punishing herself with the closeness.
"I let you touch everything," Ling says.
"My control. My family. My fear."
Her voice drops into something raw and devastated.
"You watched me fall and called it insane."
Rhea shakes her head violently, tears spilling unchecked.
"That wasn't— that wasn't who I am now—"
Ling cuts her off, eyes burning.
"That's the only part of you that was honest," Ling says.
Rhea's hands clutch Ling's sleeves like she's drowning.
"I'm obsessed with you," Rhea cries.
"I didn't know how to stop—"
Ling flinches.
Obsessed.
She laughs again — softer this time, completely broken.
"Obsession without love," Ling murmurs.
"That's worse."
Her voice shatters.
"I would've burned the world for you," Ling says.
"And you never loved me."
The realization lands fully now.
It empties her.
"You succeeded," Ling says quietly.
"You wanted me weak."
"I hope you remember this," Ling says, tears still falling even as her voice steadies.
"Because this is the moment I stopped believing in you."