Hours passed in measured beeps and restrained breathing.
Ling sat beside the bed without moving, spine straight, hands folded so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. No phone. No pacing. No drinking. Just waiting. Watching the slow rise and fall of Dadi's chest like it was the only thing holding the world in place.
Then the monitor shifted.
Not alarmed. Just… different.
Dadi's fingers twitched.
Ling leaned forward instantly. "Dadi?"
Nothing.
A second passed. Then another.
Dadi's lips parted slightly. Her voice came out rough, unconscious, pulled from somewhere deeper than thought.
"Ling…"
The sound hit like a blade.
Ling broke.
She stood so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. Tears spilled before she could stop them, breath collapsing in her chest.
"I'm here," Ling said, voice shaking badly. "I'm here, Dadi."
Dadi frowned faintly, eyes still closed, brows knitting as if confused.
"Ling…" she murmured again, softer this time. "Don't…"
Her eyelids fluttered.
Slowly—uncertainly—they opened.
Her gaze moved unfocused across the ceiling, then drifted downward. It landed on Ling's face and froze.
Dadi's breath caught.
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"No," she whispered hoarsely.
Ling shook her head desperately, tears dropping onto the sheets. "It's me. I swear. I'm here."
Dadi's hand lifted weakly, hovering in the air like she was afraid to touch.
"I must be seeing things," Dadi said, voice breaking. "I was very sick."
Ling grabbed her hand carefully and pressed it to her cheek. "I'm real."
Dadi gasped.
Her hand trembled against Ling's skin.
"Oh God," Dadi cried suddenly, voice rising. "Oh God, it's you."
She sobbed, sound raw and uncontained, chest heaving as much as the machines allowed.
"You forgot us," Dadi cried, tears streaming down her face. "You disappeared. You didn't come. You didn't call."
Ling fell to her knees beside the bed.
"I didn't forget," she said quickly, desperately. "Never. I swear to you. I didn't forget."
"Then why," Dadi cried, squeezing Ling's hand weakly, "why did you leave us like that?"
Ling couldn't answer.
Her mouth opened, closed. Tears kept falling.
"I'm sorry," she whispered instead. "I'm so sorry."
The room broke with them.
Rina covered her face, sobbing quietly. Victor turned away, jaw clenched hard, eyes wet.
Jian stood stiff, fists balled at his sides. Even Rowen's eyes shone, silent tears slipping down his face.
Eliza stepped forward, voice sharp with emotion she couldn't fully hide.
"For a girl," Eliza said, tears streaking her cheeks, "you forgot you have a family too."
Ling flinched like she'd been struck.
"No," she said immediately, shaking her head. "I didn't forget my family."
Her voice cracked completely now.
"I just… I didn't know how to come back."
Dadi reached up again, fingers brushing Ling's hair with trembling effort.
"Don't leave again," she begged softly. "I thought I was dying without seeing you."
Ling pressed her forehead against Dadi's hand, crying openly, restraint shattered.
"I won't," she said fiercely. "I promise. I won't leave."
Dadi closed her eyes, still crying, still holding on.
The monitor beeped steadily.
Family stood together in the white room, broken and breathing and alive.
And for the first time since she had disappeared, Ling Kwong stayed exactly where she was called.
The Nior mansion was quiet in the afternoon, the kind of quiet built on rules rather than peace.
Rhea sat at her desk with her back straight and shoulders squared, a medical textbook open in front of her. Pages marked. Notes aligned. Pen moving with steady precision. The lamp cast a clean circle of light over paper and ink, leaving the rest of the room dim and irrelevant.
Her phone lay facedown.
She did not look at the door when the knock came.
Three taps. Careful. Hesitant.
"Rhea?" Roin's voice followed, softened on purpose. "Can I come in?"
She finished the line she was writing before answering.
"What do you want?" she said.
A pause.
"I just wanted to check on you."
"No," Rhea replied flatly.
Another pause. The door opened anyway, slow enough to pretend it wasn't an intrusion.
Roin stepped inside, closing it behind him. He leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the room—too familiar, too comfortable.
"You've been in here all day," he said. "You should take a break."
"I didn't ask for advice."
Roin smiled slightly, as if indulging her. "You don't have to snap."
Rhea turned a page. "Then don't give me reasons to."
He moved closer, stopping a few feet away. "You don't talk to anyone anymore."
"I talk when necessary."
"And I'm not?"
She finally looked up at him. Her gaze was sharp, impersonal, dissecting.
"No," she said. "You're not."
Roin's smile faltered. "That's harsh."
Rhea closed her notebook carefully. "You're distracting."
"I'm worried about you," he insisted. "You don't eat with us. You don't leave the house except for university. You barely sleep."
"That's incorrect."
He frowned. "How would you know?"
"Because if I didn't sleep," Rhea said calmly, "I wouldn't be outperforming half my year."
Silence settled between them.
Roin exhaled slowly. "You weren't always like this."
Rhea stood, pushing her chair in with controlled force. "People change."
"Or someone changed you."
Her eyes hardened.
"That topic is not open for discussion."
Roin stepped closer, voice lowering. "You don't have to shut everyone out."
"I'm not shutting everyone out," Rhea replied. "I'm choosing who doesn't get access."
"And that includes me?"
"Yes."
The word landed cleanly. Final.
Roin's jaw tightened. "I've stayed," he said. "When others left."
Rhea walked past him, opened the door, and held it there.
"You stayed because you wanted something," she said. "Not because you understood anything."
"That's unfair."
"No," she corrected. "That's accurate."
She gestured toward the hallway. "I'm studying."
Roin stared at her, searching for something—cracks, softness, regret. He found none.
"You don't have to be alone," he said quietly.
Rhea met his gaze one last time. "I already am."
He hesitated, then stepped out.
Rhea closed the door without slamming it. The lock clicked once.
Then again.
She returned to her desk, sat down, reopened her book exactly where she'd left off.
Her pen resumed its steady movement.
Outside her room, footsteps faded.
Inside, nothing had been disturbed.
And Rhea Nior did not look back.