Rina studied her for a moment, then said calmly, "You thought about stealing the ring, didn't you."
Ling's eyes flickered — just for a second.
Rina sighed. "And you stopped yourself."
Ling leaned forward now, elbows on knees, voice low. "I don't steal what's mine."
Rina raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice of words."
Ling snapped back instantly. "Don't start."
"I'm not," Rina said. "I'm observing."
Mira scoffed. "It's just a ring."
Ling's head turned slowly toward her, eyes cold.
Mira swallowed. "I—I meant—"
Ling leaned back again, dismissive. "Exactly."
Silence settled again, heavier this time.
Ling's fingers curled unconsciously, as if remembering the feel of metal, skin, warmth. She hated that her body remembered before her mind allowed it.
Rina softened her tone slightly. "You're not winning this by force."
Ling let out a humorless laugh. "I don't lose."
Rina met her gaze. "You already did. You just won't admit where."
Ling stood abruptly. "I'm done here."
Jian blinked. "You barely ate."
Ling grabbed her jacket. "Lost my appetite."
As she walked away, Rina watched her go, murmuring just loud enough for the table to hear:
"She didn't steal the ring," Rina said.
"Because if she did… she'd have to admit why she wanted it so badly."
Ling didn't turn back.
She saw her before she could stop herself.
Rhea stepped into the café, hair loose, eyes tired, posture guarded — like someone who had learned how to walk through fire without flinching. Laughter around them dulled for Ling, the room narrowing to that one presence she kept pretending didn't exist.
Ling's jaw tightened.
She didn't see me.
She won't.
Rina looked up. "Where are you—"
"Locker," Ling cut in, already walking away.
She didn't look back.
The corridor outside the café felt colder. Quieter. Ling's footsteps echoed too loud, like the building itself was aware of what she was about to do.
Just take it.
Just see if it's there.
She reached the locker room, empty at this hour. Her hands moved on instinct — Rhea's locker number was burned into her memory in ways she hated.
Click.
The door opened.
Ling froze for half a second, breath caught in her throat, like she'd just crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
She opened Rhea's bag.
Her fingers trembled — not fear, not guilt — need.
And then she saw it.
The bent navel ring.
Still slightly warped. Still imperfect. Still exactly how she remembered leaving it.
Ling's chest tightened so violently she had to grip the locker door to steady herself.
"Idiot," she whispered — but she didn't know whether she meant the ring, Rhea, or herself.
She picked it up carefully, like it might shatter.
Her thumb brushed over the bent curve.
Memory hit her all at once — warmth, closeness, trust she hadn't deserved to lose this way.
Her throat burned.
Before she could stop herself, Ling lifted the ring and pressed it to her lips.
A soft, broken kiss.
Not dramatic. Not desperate.
Private.
Almost reverent.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered to something that couldn't answer. "I swear I didn't."
Her eyes shut.
For one second — just one — she let herself feel it.
Then reality slammed back in.
Footsteps.
Voices down the hall.
Ling's eyes snapped open. She straightened instantly, expression snapping back into place like armor.
She dropped the ring back into Rhea's bag — exactly where it had been — fingers lingering half a second too long.
"Stupid," she muttered again, this time with anger.
She shut the locker softly, as if noise itself might accuse her.
As Ling turned to leave, her face was cold again. Controlled. Untouchable.
But her chest still hurt.
Back in the café, Rhea sat unaware, staring at her untouched drink, fingers tapping restlessly against the table — like something important had just been disturbed and she didn't know why.
Ling checked the corridor again.
Empty.
No voices. No footsteps. No witnesses.
Her breath slowed, then hitched.
She turned back to the locker like she'd been pulled by something older than sense.
One more second.
She opened the bag again.
The ring sat there — waiting. Bent. Silent. Accusing.
Ling picked it up, this time without hesitation.
"This is mine," she said under her breath, like a claim, like a lie she needed to believe.
She slid her wallet out of her pocket.
It opened to the same place it always did.
Rhea's photo.
Creased at the corners. Folded and unfolded too many times. Rhea laughing in it — careless, unaware, alive in a way Ling hadn't seen since everything broke.
Ling's jaw clenched.
"Idiot," she whispered again, voice rough.
She placed the ring carefully behind the photo, pressing it flat, hiding it where no one ever looked — except her.
Her fingers lingered there longer than they should have.
As she closed the wallet—
Footsteps.
Close.
Ling froze.
Her spine went rigid, every muscle locking in place. She didn't turn. Didn't breathe.
"Wow," a voice said behind her, light but sharp.
"You really are bad at lying."
Ling shut the locker slowly and turned.
Rina stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable — not angry, not mocking. Observing.
"How long have you been standing there," Ling asked flatly.
Rina tilted her head. "Long enough."
Ling's eyes narrowed. "You didn't see anything."
Rina smiled faintly. "You kissed it, didn't you."
Ling's jaw tightened. "No."
Rina stepped closer. "You hid it."
Ling didn't answer.
Silence stretched.
Rina exhaled slowly. "You know what the funniest part is?"
Ling's voice was low. "Don't."
Rina ignored that. "You announced to the whole university that Rhea's untouchable. You humiliated half the campus for her. You lost sleep. You lost control."
She tapped Ling's chest lightly with one finger. "And you're still pretending this is about winning."
Ling slapped Rina's hand away. "It is."
Rina raised an eyebrow. "Then why is her picture in your wallet."
Ling's eyes flashed. "That's none of your business."
Rina studied her for a long moment, then softened. "You didn't steal it earlier because you were scared."
Ling scoffed. "Of what."
"Of admitting," Rina said quietly, "that you don't want the ring back because it's yours."
Ling's throat tightened.
Rina stepped back. "You want it because it proves she was once yours."
Ling looked away.
"I don't need proof," she said.
Rina sighed. "You always do."
Ling slipped the wallet back into her pocket, face locking back into calm, ruthless control.
"You didn't see anything," Ling said again.
Rina nodded slowly. "No."
Then, almost gently: "But don't lie to me again. You're bad at it when you care."
"You show your power everywhere else…
but hide your heart in your wallet."