They stepped out into the corridor, the evening light spilling through the tall windows, painting everything gold and soft—completely unfair, considering the mood Rhea was trying to maintain.
Ling walked beside her, hands in her pockets, posture relaxed again, eyes sharp and observant as ever.
Rhea lifted her chin, face carefully neutral. Too carefully.
Ling noticed immediately.
She leaned a little closer, voice low and teasing. "You know what?"
Rhea didn't look at her. "What."
Ling's lips curved slowly. "You should be a surgeon."
That finally earned her a glance. "Why?" Rhea asked flatly.
"Because," Ling continued calmly, eyes flicking over Rhea's face, "no matter how deeply I cut into you, you stitch yourself back up like nothing happened."
Rhea scoffed. "Please. You're imagining things."
Ling hummed. "Am I?"
They reached the stairs. Ling deliberately slowed, forcing Rhea to match her pace.
"You slept in my arms," Ling said casually. "Cried on my shoulder. Promised not to leave."
Rhea's ears burned. She looked straight ahead. "You're exaggerating."
Ling leaned closer, lips almost brushing Rhea's ear. "And now you're walking like I barely touched you."
Rhea snapped, "Because I'm not going to melt every time you look at me."
Ling stopped walking.
Rhea took two steps before realizing—and turning back, irritated. "What now?"
Ling stepped in close, not touching, just invading space. "That's the problem," she said softly. "You already did. You just pretend you didn't."
Rhea crossed her arms, defensive. "You want me to fall apart in the hallway?"
Ling's eyes darkened with amusement. "No," she said. "I enjoy watching you pretend you're unaffected. It's cute."
Rhea rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
Ling smiled—slow, sharp, unmistakably pleased. "And you're blushing."
"I am not."
Ling tilted her head. "Want me to prove it?"
Rhea immediately stepped back. "Don't you dare."
Ling laughed under her breath, the sound low and warm. "Relax. I won't ruin your act."
They resumed walking.
After a few steps, Rhea muttered, almost against her will, "You really think I'm good at hiding things?"
Ling glanced at her sideways. "From everyone else? Yes."
"And from you?"
Ling didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly: "Never."
Rhea's steps faltered for half a second.
Ling noticed.
Of course she did.
By the time they reached the exit, Rhea's phone buzzed again in her hand—no doubt Roin—but Ling didn't comment. She simply brushed her fingers against Rhea's wrist as they walked past the doors, a brief, grounding touch.
Rhea looked up at her, annoyed. "What was that for?"
Ling smirked. "Surgeons need steady hands."
Rhea shook her head, fighting a smile.
Unaffected.
Sure.
Rhea walked toward the parking lot, evening air cool against her face. Roin was already leaning against the car, keys in hand. He straightened the moment he saw her.
"You took time," he said, scanning her face again, concern slipping through despite himself.
"I told you I'd come," Rhea replied evenly, opening the passenger door. She slid in, closing it with a soft thud. "Let's go."
Roin got into the driver's seat, starting the engine. As the car pulled out, he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "You sure you're okay? You look… tired."
Rhea leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closing briefly. "I didn't sleep," she said. "That's all."
Roin tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "University's been hard on you lately."
Rhea hummed noncommittally, gaze drifting to the window. Her reflection stared back—calm, distant, carefully composed. She didn't mention Ling. Didn't need to. The silence between them filled the space just fine.
At the gate, the car slowed. Rhea's phone buzzed once in her hand.
A message.
She didn't open it.
Not yet.
—
Across campus, Ling walked in the opposite direction, steps unhurried for the first time all day. Her earlier tension had faded into something quieter—controlled, confident.
She slid into the seat of her Rolls-Royce, the door closing with a muted click. Pulled away smoothly.
Her phone was already in her other hand.
A smile—small but unmistakable—curved her lips as she typed.
Ling:Home safe. You still pretending you're unaffected?
She hit send, then leaned back, eyes half-lidded, replaying the way Rhea had tried so hard not to blush in the hallway.
Her phone buzzed almost immediately.
Ling's smile widened.
She typed again, slower this time.
Ling:Rest tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. Don't argue. This is not a request.
She locked the screen, exhaling softly, gaze drifting out the window as the mansion gates came into view.
Different cars.
Different roads.
But the line between them—tight, unbreakable—stayed exactly where it had always been.