The discharge papers lay forgotten on the side table.
Dadi sat at the edge of the bed, dressed in soft clothes that smelled faintly of home instead of disinfectant. Her feet barely touched the floor as she shifted, testing her strength with stubborn determination.
"I can walk," Dadi insisted.
Victor leaned in immediately. "Careful. Let me—"
Dadi waved him off, irritation flashing across her tired face. "Not you."
She looked past him.
"Where is my Ling?"
Ling froze where she stood.
Then she stepped forward, a smile breaking through tears she hadn't realized were already falling. "I'm here."
Dadi's face softened instantly, the sternness melting into something warm and unmistakably alive. "There you are," she said.
Ling moved to her without hesitation, kneeling slightly so their eyes were level. She took Dadi's hands gently, like they were something precious and breakable.
"I'm right here," Ling said, voice thick. "I've got you."
Dadi reached up, arms weak but determined, and pulled Ling into a tight, fierce hug. Ling let herself be pulled in, arms wrapping around Dadi's shoulders, breathing her in like proof.
Dadi kissed Ling's cheek once. Then again. "You won't leave," she said firmly.
Ling pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes wet but steady. "Never."
Dadi searched her face, suspicious. "Never-ever?"
Ling nodded without hesitation. "I can leave anyone," she said softly, almost teasing, "but not you."
Dadi scoffed. "Oh, so I'm special now?"
"You always were," Ling replied, a faint grin slipping through the tears.
Dadi's eyes sparkled despite everything. "Good. Because if you had disappeared again, I would've come back just to haunt you."
Ling laughed—a real sound this time, cracked but alive. "You'd scare everyone."
"I already do," Dadi said proudly. "Especially you."
Ling leaned her forehead against Dadi's, smiling. "Only because you raised me to be weak around you."
Victor watched quietly, relief loosening something deep in his posture. Rina wiped her face, smiling through tears. Even Eliza looked away, blinking rapidly.
Dadi squeezed Ling's hand. "You look thin," she said critically.
Ling rolled her eyes. "You just got out of ICU and you're already judging."
"Of course," Dadi replied. "Someone has to."
Ling helped her stand carefully, one arm firm around her waist. Dadi leaned into her without complaint, trusting her completely.
"See?" Dadi said smugly. "Perfect support."
Ling smirked. "You trained me."
They moved slowly toward the door together, steps measured, synchronized.
For the first time in months, Ling walked beside someone who did not ask her to be strong.
Only present.
And she was.
The gates of the Kwong mansion opened slowly, the iron parting with a familiar groan that settled deep in Ling's chest.
Four months.
That was how long it had been since she had crossed this threshold—not running, not breaking, not disappearing into the night.
The car rolled forward, tires crunching softly against the gravel drive lined with perfectly trimmed hedges that had never changed, as if the house itself refused to acknowledge her absence.
Ling sat still in the back seat, eyes fixed on the front doors.
Dadi leaned slightly toward the window, peering out like a curious child. "Hmm," she murmured. "They didn't let the plants die while I was gone. Good."
Ling huffed a weak smile. "You'd haunt them if they did."
"Correct," Dadi said proudly.
The car stopped.
The driver moved to open the door, but Ling was already out, hand reaching back instantly for Dadi. She helped her step down slowly, one hand firm at her elbow, the other steadying her back. Dadi leaned into her without hesitation.
The front doors opened.
Servants lined the entrance, heads bowed respectfully, eyes careful—many of them seeing Ling like this for the first time since she'd left. Not feared. Not distant. Just… there.
Ling barely noticed them.
Her gaze lifted to the mansion.
Nothing looked different.
That hurt more than if everything had changed.
She stepped inside.
The air smelled the same—polish, old wood, faint incense Dadi insisted on burning every morning. Her boots echoed softly against the marble floor, the sound pulling memories up without asking.
"Miss Kwong," one servant said carefully. "Welcome home."
The words struck deeper than expected.
Ling nodded once, jaw tightening.
Before anyone could say anything else, footsteps rushed from the side hallway.
"Ling!"
Zifa.
Ling barely had time to register her before Zifa was already there, arms thrown around her shoulders with no warning, hugging her tight like she was afraid Ling might disappear again if she loosened her grip.
"We missed you," Zifa said into her shoulder, voice thick. "Rina told me you came back, so I came straight here."
Ling stiffened for half a second—old reflex—then exhaled and let it happen. Her arms came up slowly, returning the hug with quiet strength.
"I can tell," Ling muttered. "You smell like the street."
Zifa laughed wetly. "Wow. Still you."
She pulled back just enough to look at Ling's face, eyes scanning her quickly. "You look like hell."
Ling raised an eyebrow. "You look annoying."
Zifa smiled wider. "She's alive."
That simple statement cracked something fragile.
Ling looked away, swallowing hard. "Barely."
Zifa followed her gaze to Dadi, who was now being fussed over by Rina.
"Dadi!" Zifa exclaimed, immediately abandoning Ling to rush over. "You scared us!"
Dadi smiled warmly. "Good. Keeps you obedient."
Zifa laughed, then glanced back at Ling, her expression softening. "You stayed away too long."
Ling's shoulders tensed. "I know."
Rina walked over, standing close but not touching, like she was relearning boundaries. "I told Zifa as soon as I heard," she said quietly. "I didn't think she'd actually listen."
"I always listen," Zifa protested. "Just… selectively."
Ling exhaled, running a hand through her hair.
They stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken months hanging heavy between them. No accusations. No questions. Just presence.
Dadi squeezed Ling's hand again. "Help me sit before I start ordering renovations."
Ling nodded immediately. "This way."
She guided Dadi toward the living room, every step careful, measured, attentive.
Zifa followed, quieter now, eyes flicking between Ling and Dadi like she was memorizing proof that this was real.
As Dadi settled onto the couch, sighing dramatically, Ling crouched slightly to adjust the cushion behind her back.
"You hovering again," Dadi teased.
Ling shrugged. "Doctor's orders."
Dadi smirked. "You just like being useful."
Ling didn't deny it.
Zifa watched the interaction closely, something shifting in her expression. When Ling finally straightened, Zifa spoke softly.
"You came back different," she said.
Ling met her gaze. "I didn't come back. I stopped running."
Zifa nodded once. "Good."
The mansion hummed around them—servants moving, voices low, life resuming its rhythm.
For the first time since she had left, Ling felt the house accept her without question.
Not as a ruler.
Not as a weapon.
But as someone who belonged there.
And this time, she stayed.