Rhea stared at the navel piercing lying there — bent slightly, stained faintly dark — and her breath caught so hard it hurt.
"So," Rhea whispered. "You don't have it?"
Ling's throat worked. Her face went cold — not angry, not cruel — stripped bare for half a second.
"That's not—" Ling started.
Rhea picked up the ring slowly, fingers trembling. "You kept it."
Ling looked away first.
That alone said everything.
The professor cleared his throat nervously. "Miss Kwong—"
Ling didn't hear him.
Rhea stepped closer, lowering her voice, but it cut sharper than shouting. "You tore it from me. It hurt. I bled. And you kept it like it was yours."
Ling finally looked back at her, eyes dark, conflicted, furious at herself. "You shouldn't have touched my wallet."
Rhea laughed again, tears filling her eyes now. "You shouldn't have touched me."
That landed.
Hard.
The class held its breath.
Rhea closed Ling's wallet carefully and placed it back on the desk — gentle, deliberate — then held the ring up between them.
"You can keep lying," Rhea said softly. "But don't pretend you don't care. This isn't indifference."
Ling's jaw clenched. "Give it back."
Rhea shook her head. "No."
Ling's eyes narrowed. "Rhea."
"For once," Rhea said, voice shaking but firm, "I'm taking something back from you."
She slipped the ring into her pocket and stepped away.
No victory.
No triumph.
Just pain.
Ling watched her go, fists clenched at her sides, chest tight like something essential had been ripped out of her — not the ring.
And for the first time since everything broke, Ling realized:
She hadn't kept the piercing out of obsession alone.
She'd kept it because letting go felt like admitting she'd already lost her.
After class, the corridor was almost empty.
Ling caught up to Rhea near the stairs, irritation sharp, restless — not furious, not cold — just… stuck.
She spoke first, too fast. "It's useless anyway."
Rhea stopped but didn't turn.
"You can't even wear it now," Ling continued, tone defensive, almost childish. "It's bent. And I know you — you have many. You can buy ten more if you want. Give it to me."
Rhea finally turned, disbelief flashing across her face. "You're serious?"
Ling crossed her arms. "Completely."
Rhea let out a short laugh. "Then you can buy one too. Like this."
Ling frowned. "It won't be the same."
Rhea tilted her head. "Why? Same metal. Same shape. Same price."
Ling snapped back immediately, "I want that one."
Rhea stared at her. "You're impossible."
"You're the one being dramatic," Ling shot back.
Rhea scoffed. "Dramatic? You ripped it out of me."
Ling stiffened. "I didn't mean—"
"You didn't mean to keep it?" Rhea interrupted. "You didn't mean to lie about it? You didn't mean to hide it in your wallet like it was—" she stopped herself, jaw tight.
Ling's voice rose slightly. "I said give it back."
"No," Rhea said flatly.
Ling stepped closer. "Rhea, this is stupid."
Rhea stepped closer too, eyes flashing. "Exactly. This is stupid. You humiliating me, lying, then arguing over a piece of metal like a child."
Ling snapped, "You're the one refusing to give it!"
Rhea shot back, "You're the one who wants a bent one instead of a new one!"
Ling threw her hands up. "Because it's—"
She stopped.
Because she didn't have a word that wouldn't expose her.
Rhea saw it instantly.
Her voice softened, dangerous. "Say it. Finish that sentence."
Ling looked away. "Forget it."
"No," Rhea said. "Say it."
Ling exhaled sharply, frustrated, cornered. "It's mine."
Rhea laughed — not amused, not kind. "You don't get to decide that."
Ling's eyes darkened. "You don't get to decide what matters to me."
They stood there, inches apart, both breathing hard, both stubborn, both wounded — arguing over nothing and everything at once.
Finally, Rhea stepped back.
"You sound ridiculous," she said quietly. "So do I. That's the worst part."
She turned to leave.
Ling called after her, voice rough, almost pleading despite herself, "You can bend a new one."
Rhea didn't turn back.
"You already did," she said. "That's why you want it."
She walked away, leaving Ling alone in the corridor — angry, exposed, and furious at herself for losing control over something so small that carried so much damage.
The café was loud — laughter, cutlery, whispered gossip — but Ling Kwong's table silenced its radius without effort.
Rina sat sideways on the chair, boots hooked around the metal rung. Jian and Rowen leaned back casually, Mira sat too close to Ling's arm.
Ling hadn't touched her drink.
She stared at the table, jaw tight, fingers tapping once… twice… sharp.
"Unbelievable," Ling muttered.
Rina's lips twitched. "Oh, we're starting early today."
Ling scoffed, voice low but venomous. "She argues like she's negotiating peace treaties over a damn ring."
Jian laughed under his breath. "You both looked like children about to bite each other."
Ling shot him a glare. "You enjoyed that too much."
"I live for it," Jian replied easily. "Campus royalty fighting over jewelry."
Mira leaned in, sweet voice laced with poison. "You could just buy a new one, Ling. I don't get why you're—"
Ling's head snapped up.
"I don't remember asking for commentary."
Mira froze, smile stiff. "I just meant—"
Ling cut her off, mocking now, voice dripping.
"'You can bend a new one.'"
She mimicked Rhea perfectly — the tilt, the calm arrogance.
Rina choked on her drink. "Oh my god. That was spot on."
Ling continued, pacing words like she was reenacting a crime.
"'You already did. That's why you want it.'"
Her laugh was sharp, humorless. "As if she knows anything about what I want."
Rowen raised a brow. "You kinda looked like she did."
Ling slammed her palm lightly on the table. "She doesn't."
The café went quieter around them.
"She thinks she can say whatever she wants and walk away," Ling went on, eyes dark. "Like I'm some phase. Some mistake she can discard."
Rina studied her closely. "You're mad."
Ling scoffed. "I'm irritated."
"You're furious," Rina corrected. "There's a difference."
Ling picked up her glass finally, took a sip, grimaced. "This tastes awful."
Jian glanced at it. "That's your usual."
Ling muttered, "Everything tastes awful today."
Mira tried again, softer. "You shouldn't let her get to you. After everything she did—"
Ling's chair scraped back sharply as she leaned forward, eyes cold enough to freeze Mira in place.
"Careful."
Mira swallowed. "I—I just meant she hurt you."
Ling's voice dropped, controlled, lethal.
"No. She challenged me."
Rina tilted her head. "You don't react like this to challenges."
Ling laughed bitterly. "That's because no one else argues with me like they're entitled to my things."
Rowen smirked. "You mean like they own you?"
Ling's eyes flicked to him. "Don't push your luck."
Silence stretched.
Then Ling muttered again, quieter this time — almost to herself.
"She looked at me like I was the unreasonable one."
Rina leaned closer. "Because you were."
Ling shot her a look. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I am," Rina said calmly. "That's why I'm telling you — you don't fight like this with people you don't care about."
Ling scoffed. "I don't care."
Rina smiled, slow and knowing. "Sure."
Ling stood abruptly, grabbing her jacket. "I'm done here."
Jian blinked. "You didn't drink—"
Ling turned back, eyes sharp, voice icy again — the queen sliding back into place.
"I'm not wasting another second discussing someone who thinks she can walk away with my things."
She walked off without another word.
Rina watched her go, then sighed.
"She's lying," Rina said softly.
Jian nodded. "Badly."
Mira clenched her jaw, nails digging into her palm.
And across campus — Rhea Nior didn't know it yet — but the argument over a bent piece of metal had already turned into something far more dangerous.
Because Ling Kwong didn't obsess over objects.
She obsessed over what she couldn't control.