Archive of Our Own

Another holiday party. Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong leaned against the sleek marble column in the grand ballroom, her lips pressed into a thin line as she surveyed the crowd. She barely tolerated these events—the pretentious conversations, the stiff smiles, the endless stream of people seeking her attention. They all saw her as the heir to Sethachon, the next in line to carry her family's legacy. Rarely did anyone bother to see the person beneath that title. But as much as she detested it, her presence was non-negotiable. She had to make an appearance, had to play her role.

The only silver lining at these gatherings was her.

Lingling Sirilak Kwong.

Orm's gaze naturally gravitated to her across the room, as if drawn by some invisible thread. Lingling was standing near the towering window that framed the Bangkok skyline, the sprawling city lit up like a jewel box against the night. She held a glass of sugar-free ginger ale in her hand—her usual drink at these functions. It was such a small thing, but to Orm, it spoke volumes. While everyone else indulged in the extravagance of champagne or whiskey, Lingling's choice was practical, unassuming, and uniquely her. It was a quiet rebellion against the excess around her, one of the many little details that set her apart.

Orm's breath hitched as her eyes lingered on Lingling. The shimmering silver gown she wore tonight was a masterpiece of understated elegance, perfectly tailored to her figure. The delicate fringe swayed gently with her every movement, catching the light and creating a soft, mesmerizing glow that seemed to follow her wherever she went. It wasn't just the dress—it was the way Lingling wore it, with a quiet confidence that made it impossible to look away. Her jet-black hair, parted neatly down the middle, framed her face like a work of art, each strand perfectly in place yet natural, softening her sharp and poised features. Lingling had always carried herself with an effortless elegance, whether she was commanding a boardroom discussion or standing amidst a crowd of Bangkok's elite.

Orm remembered the first time they met as if it had happened yesterday. It had been at another company party, years ago. Back then, Lingling was a fresh-faced new hire, eager to prove herself in a company where legacy and power often dictated status. She hadn't known who Orm was—not fully, not like everyone else seemed to. She didn't care about the Sethratanapong name or the weight it carried, didn't even bother to ask her surname really. And that had been a revelation for Orm.

While others fawned over her or angled for her favor, Lingling had simply approached her. No ulterior motives, no performative deference. She'd spoken to Orm like a person, not an heiress, and it had been a breath of fresh air. They'd talked about everything and nothing— music, movies, tv shows and the fleeting moments that felt so far removed from Orm's carefully crafted image. It had been the first time in a long while that Orm felt seen, not for what she represented, but for who she was. Lingling's curiosity was genuine, her laughter unguarded, and her presence magnetic in a way that drew Orm in completely. That memory had stayed with her, a bright moment she clung to in the midst of her otherwise scripted life.

Flashback

Holiday parties had always been a constant in Orm's life. As far back as she could remember, her family made it a tradition—a carefully orchestrated spectacle meant to keep their presence firmly rooted in Bangkok's business elite during the festive season. Orm didn't remember a year when she hadn't attended. Even now, at barely eighteen and in her first year of university, her attendance was expected. It didn't matter that she would have rather been anywhere else—laughing with friends, watching movies, or simply unwinding from her newly hectic life as an Economics student. The path her family had set for her was clear, and this was just another step along the way.

Orm stood at the edge of the ballroom, partially hidden behind one of the large marble columns. The space was grand, filled with glittering chandeliers and soft music, yet it felt hollow to her. She was lost in her thoughts, half-heartedly nursing a glass of water, when a hand appeared in front of her holding a champagne flute.

"You look like you needed this," a voice said, warm and inviting.

Startled, Orm looked up and found herself face to face with a stranger. Her gaze met soft chocolate-brown eyes framed by perfectly arched brows. The woman smiled, her lips full and softly curved, a small dimple appearing near her cheek. A faint beauty mark added a unique charm to her already captivating face. She exuded elegance and grace, but her warm expression carried an air of approachability that put Orm at ease almost immediately.

"I'm Sirilak Kwong," the woman introduced herself. "You can call me Lingling." She offered the champagne flute again, her smile widening slightly in encouragement.

"Just call me Orm," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

Lingling tilted her head, studying her with a playful glint in her eye. "Aren't you a little young to be at this party?" she teased, taking a sip from her own glass. She gestured with the flute again, waiting for Orm to take it.

After a moment's hesitation, Orm accepted the glass and took a sip. The fizzy sweetness caught her off guard. "Ginger ale?" she asked, blinking up at Lingling.

Lingling grinned. "I don't really drink," she admitted. "And you look like you're too young for one anyway. Ginger ale is my go-to at these things. It makes the night a little easier to get through."

Orm chuckled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing. There was something about Lingling's presence—her easy warmth, the way she spoke as though they were old friends—that made Orm feel like she wasn't just another face in the crowd.

"What brings you to this party tonight?" Lingling asked, leaning casually against the column beside her.

"Just here with my parents. What about you?" Orm replied with a shrug.

Lingling smiled, gesturing around the room. "I started in the Finance department a few months back. This is my first holiday party here. It's pretty impressive."

"Meh," Orm said, a little nonchalantly. "I liked last year's better."

Lingling laughed, her eyes crinkling in delight. "So, you've been to these before?"

"Every single one. As far back as I can remember," Orm admitted.

Lingling raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "So, your parents have been working for the company for a long time?"

"Something like that," Orm replied vaguely, deflecting the subject. "Did you always like numbers? Is that why you're in Finance?"

Lingling laughed at the question. "Oh, no. I actually sucked at math during my freshman year in high school," she confessed, shaking her head. "But then, one day, I got humiliated in front of my peers. It was brutal. So, I decided to take revenge. Worked my ass off, and by the time I graduated, I was always on top of the rankings."

"Revenge, huh?" Orm said with a grin.

Lingling nodded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yup. Then I figured, why not continue the trend in university? So, I took up Accounting with a minor in Financial Management. By the time I realized it was more analysis than actual math, it was too late to switch. Plus, I didn't want to redo any major subjects. At the end of it, I realized I actually liked the analytical part. It just stuck."

"How'd you end up here?" Orm asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh, my mentor suggested I apply. I tried, and here I am." Lingling smiled. "But enough about me. I've been rambling. What about you?"

Orm hesitated, but Lingling's expectant expression encouraged her to answer. "I'm in my first year at uni, studying Economics."

"Did you always want to take that up?" Lingling asked.

Orm shook her head. "Not really. It was... expected of me."

"Ah, expectations," Lingling said knowingly, nodding. "That can be tough."

They fell into an easy rhythm after that, talking about everything and nothing. Lingling's curiosity was genuine, and her enthusiasm was infectious. When Orm mentioned her love for music, Lingling's face lit up.

"Oh, have you listened to Daniel Caesar's newest single?" Lingling asked excitedly.

And just like that, they were off, diving into a spirited discussion about music, jumping to movie soundtracks, then to movies and TV shows. Hours passed unnoticed, the once-boring party becoming a highlight in Orm's memory.

They were interrupted only when Lingling's phone buzzed, an alarm breaking the spell of their conversation.

"Oh wow, we've been talking for hours," Lingling said, glancing at the time.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Orm asked reluctantly.

"Yeah, I've got to feed my dog. He sulks when I forget about him," Lingling explained with a smile, opening her phone to show a picture of a golden retriever. "This is Char Siu. He's a baby."

Orm smiled, charmed by the sight of the dog. "He's adorable."

"It was nice spending time with you, Orm. Maybe I'll see you at the next holiday party," Lingling said, waving as she began to leave.

"See you next time," Orm replied, a smile lingering on her lips as she watched Lingling walk away.

That night, what had started as just another holiday obligation had turned into something unforgettable—all because of Lingling.

End of Flashback

The memory of Lingling stayed with Orm long after that first meeting, replaying in her mind during quiet moments. Lingling had been a breath of fresh air—a rare, genuine presence in a world where most interactions felt carefully curated and insincere. Unlike the countless people who approached Orm with ulterior motives, Lingling had spoken to her as though she were just another person at the party. She hadn't cared about Orm's family name, her future role as the heir to Sethachon, or what being associated with her could mean. Instead, Lingling had simply been interested in her—her thoughts, her humor, her quirks.

For someone like Orm, who had grown up being defined by her family's legacy, that simple act of treating her with normalcy carried a weight she couldn't easily articulate. Lingling hadn't tried to impress her or seek an advantage; she had been herself—unfiltered and warm. It was the kind of interaction Orm didn't even realize she had been craving until she experienced it.

The way Lingling had laughed freely, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke passionately about a topic, and the easy, unguarded rhythm of their conversation—all of it had left a mark on Orm. It was as if, for the first time, she had been seen not as "the heir" or "the CEO's daughter," but as simply Orm. And that feeling, fleeting though it was, had filled a space inside her she hadn't even realized was empty.

As the days passed, Orm found herself thinking about Lingling more often than she expected. It wasn't just the novelty of meeting someone who treated her differently—it was the way Lingling made her feel. For a brief moment in time, Orm had been free of the expectations and labels that weighed her down. And more than that, Lingling had been fun. She had made Orm laugh in a way that felt unforced and real, something that had become increasingly rare in her life.

The memory of their interaction wasn't just something Orm revisited for comfort; it became a quiet source of strength. Whenever the weight of her responsibilities felt overwhelming, she would remember Lingling's smile, her laughter, and the way she had said, "You can just call me Lingling." It was so simple, so disarming, and yet it had meant everything to Orm.

That moment of ice breaker between acquaintances was something important, something Orm wanted to hold onto. And as the months stretched on, Orm found herself hoping, quietly but fiercely, that she would see Lingling again. Not just to relive that feeling, but to understand what it was about Lingling that made the world feel a little less heavy, and herself a little more seen.

Flashback

By the time the next holiday party rolled around, Orm couldn't stop thinking about Lingling. The warmth and sincerity Lingling exuded during their first meeting had stayed with her, lingering like a melody she couldn't get out of her head. She wanted to know if Lingling would be there again, if they could pick up where they had left off, or if it had all been a fleeting moment. The thought of seeing her again filled Orm with equal parts excitement and nervousness. After days of internal deliberation, she finally caved and asked her father's secretary if Lingling still worked in the Finance Department.

The answer had come almost immediately: Yes, she's still there. Relief washed over Orm, followed by a surge of anticipation. She resolved to find Lingling at the party, no matter what.

When the evening arrived, Orm barely noticed the glittering chandeliers, the hum of conversation, or the grandness of the ballroom. Her eyes scanned the crowd for one person, and when she found her, her breath caught. Lingling stood near the refreshment table, a glass of ginger ale in hand, exuding the same effortless grace that Orm remembered. Her sleek hair framed her face perfectly, her posture confident yet approachable. It was as though the chaos of the party didn't touch her.

Orm's heart raced as she carefully timed her approach. She waited until Lingling moved away from the group she was speaking to, heading toward one of the quieter corners of the ballroom. Orm smoothed her gown, took a steadying breath, and walked over.

"Ginger ale again?" she said lightly, her tone carrying just enough familiarity to catch Lingling's attention.

Lingling turned, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Orm, right?" she said with a smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I didn't think I'd see you here again."

Orm felt a wave of relief at the warmth in Lingling's tone. "I'm always here," she replied with a half-smile. "Family obligations, you know."

Lingling chuckled softly, lifting her glass. "Well, at least we both have our traditions. Ginger ale for me, and holiday parties for you."

Orm laughed, feeling the tension in her chest ease. "Fair enough. I was hoping I'd see you again."

"Oh?" Lingling tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "And why's that?"

Orm hesitated for a brief moment, then decided to be honest. "Last year... you made this party bearable. I figured I'd take my chances again."

Lingling's expression softened, her smile warm and genuine. "That's kind of you to say. I didn't think I made much of an impression."

"You did," Orm said, her tone more earnest than she intended.

Lingling studied her for a moment, her gaze gentle yet probing, before taking a small sip of her drink. "Well, I'm glad I could help. And it looks like you've sought me out just in time—I was about to sneak away for a moment of peace."

"Mind if I join you?" Orm asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Lingling's smile widened slightly. "Not at all."

They found a quiet corner, the noise of the party fading into the background. For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the calm settle between them.

"How's your year been?" Orm asked, breaking the silence.

Lingling leaned against the wall, her smile softening. "Ehh, tiring but productive. I've been diving into the production side of things—getting to know the people in manufacturing. Some of them go to the same gym as me, so they've given me a few tours during their downtimes. It's been fascinating." She paused, her eyes sparkling as she added, "What about you?"

Orm hesitated, her smile faltering as she took a sip of her drink. "Hmmm, at least one of us is having a good year," she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Lingling's hand reached out and covered Orm's, her touch warm and grounding. Orm looked down at their hands, then back up at Lingling, whose face radiated quiet compassion.

"You can tell me anything, you know. You're safe with me," Lingling said, her voice gentle as she gave Orm's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Orm sighed heavily, the weight of her unspoken struggles pressing against her chest. "Expectations too heavy this year?" Lingling asked softly.

Orm looked up, surprised by how easily Lingling had read her. She nodded slowly, unable to put her feelings into words.

Lingling leaned back slightly, her gaze distant for a moment. "You know, when I was in uni, my parents worried endlessly about the path I'd chosen. They're both in the medical field, and business was completely foreign to them. We fought about it constantly. My mom even yelled once, 'We won't be here forever, Lingling. We just want you to be secure. This path you're choosing, we can't help you at all.'"

Lingling paused, taking a sip of her drink. Her voice softened as she continued. "I wasn't good with blood—I'd faint just looking at it—but they wouldn't hear it. It took years for them to accept that I wasn't going to change my major. Even now, I think part of them still wishes I'd gone into medicine. But it's my life, and I had to make that decision for myself."

Orm studied Lingling's face, noticing the faint trace of sadness behind her smile. She reached out, placing a hand on Lingling's arm. Lingling turned back to her, her smile warming slightly.

"Do you like your major so far?" Lingling asked gently.

Orm nodded. "I do."

"Then you're already a step ahead," Lingling said, her voice full of quiet encouragement. "Our parents worry because they care so much even if we're old enough to decide for ourselves, but in the end, this is your life. They'll always come around, even if it takes time."

The heaviness in Orm's chest eased slightly. She smiled, grateful for Lingling's words. "Thanks. That... really helps."

Lingling's smile brightened. "Anytime. Now, tell me—have you heard Lorde's New Album?"

Orm's face lit up. "Yes! I've been listening to it on repeat."

"Me too!" Lingling said, her excitement infectious. "So far my favorite's Liability? It's incredible."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly again from there, jumping from music to movies to random anecdotes. Orm found herself laughing more than she had in weeks, her earlier worries momentarily forgotten. For the second year in a row, Lingling had turned a dreaded obligation into something extraordinary.

End of Flashback

By the third year, Orm didn't need to ask anyone if Lingling was still at the company—it was impossible not to know. Lingling's name seemed to surface in conversations throughout the year, not just within the confines of the holiday party. Her father, a man who rarely gave compliments unless they were thoroughly earned, had mentioned her multiple times. Often, it was in passing—a quick remark about her efficiency, her sharp thinking, or her ability to turn a struggling project around. But occasionally, it came with a tone of genuine admiration that caught Orm's attention.

One particular project stood out. It had been a mess—fraught with delays, budget overruns, and poor coordination before Lingling stepped in. By all accounts, it was the kind of challenge most employees would shy away from, knowing the risks to their reputation if they failed. But Lingling had taken it on without hesitation, her calm demeanor and meticulous planning breathing new life into the effort. Not only had the project been completed on time, but it had also exceeded expectations, yielding results that impressed even the most skeptical executives.

"She's brilliant," her father had said over dinner one evening, his tone tinged with respect. "For someone so young, she has a work ethic and vision that puts even seasoned employees to shame. If she keeps this up, she's going places."

Orm remembered those words clearly, the way her father's usually reserved praise had carried an undeniable weight. It wasn't just that Lingling had earned his respect—it was that she had done so in a way that made it seem effortless, as though her brilliance and determination were second nature. Orm couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as she listened. This was the same Lingling who had treated her with warmth and kindness, who had laughed with her at the holiday party and made her feel, for once, like just Orm.

She deserved this recognition, Orm thought, every bit of it and more. She could almost picture Lingling in the middle of a meeting, her sharp mind at work, articulating her ideas with the quiet confidence that seemed to define her. It wasn't difficult to imagine her commanding the room, earning the respect of even the most seasoned executives. But beneath that professional exterior, Orm knew there was someone who cared deeply about the things she did—a passion that had always shone through in their conversations.

More than anything, Orm hoped that Lingling's parents—who, from what Lingling had shared, once doubted her career choice—knew of her accomplishments now. She hoped they could see what she had achieved, could understand the brilliance and determination their daughter possessed. Because if anyone deserved pride and admiration, it was Lingling.

Orm, too, felt that pride. It was a strange feeling, seeing someone she cared about succeed so brilliantly, knowing how much it meant to her. She wasn't sure why it mattered so much to her, why Lingling's achievements felt so personal. But she couldn't deny the warmth that filled her chest every time her father spoke about Lingling's brilliance, every time she caught glimpses of her success through the fragmented mentions of her name.

Lingling was becoming more than just someone Orm looked forward to seeing once a year. She was someone Orm admired deeply, someone whose presence in the company—and in her life—made everything feel a little brighter.

Flashback

As the holiday party approached, Orm found herself feeling an excitement she hadn't anticipated. This wasn't just the usual dread of enduring another evening of formalities and polite smiles—no, this was different. She couldn't stop thinking about Lingling. She knew she could have sought her out in the Finance Department at any point during the year. After all, it wouldn't have been difficult. She had the access, the perfect excuse to drop by. But something about their unspoken arrangement of only seeing each other at these holiday parties made it feel... special.

It wasn't just about the party anymore. It was about Lingling—the way her presence seemed to anchor Orm, how her warm smiles made the room feel brighter, how their conversations felt like a reprieve from the heaviness of everything else in her life. The weeks leading up to the party were filled with quiet anticipation. The thought of seeing Lingling again made Orm's heart race just a little faster, her mind wandering during lectures and assignments.

The moment she stepped into the grand ballroom, her eyes instinctively sought her out. And there she was—Lingling Sirilak Kwong, standing by the refreshment table in a stunning navy-blue gown that shimmered softly under the chandeliers. Her hair was swept into a loose bun, a few strands falling artfully to frame her face. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as though she hadn't even tried, and it was a kind of beauty that made Orm's breath hitch.

Lingling was engaged in conversation with a group of colleagues, her laughter light and melodic, filling the space around her. Orm found herself lingering at a short distance, unable to look away. It was as though the rest of the party faded into the background.

Orm stood at a distance, her gaze fixed on Lingling. She was laughing politely at something a colleague said, but even from afar, Orm could sense the faint tension in her posture. As the group began to disperse, one man lingered, leaning a little too close to Lingling. His voice carried over the hum of the room, smooth and overly familiar.

"—join us later?" he asked, his smile a little too self-assured.

Lingling's polite smile wavered, her body leaning subtly away from him. "No, I have an appointment after this," she said, her tone calm but firm.

"With whom?" he pressed, ignoring her clear dismissal. "They could come with us if they want to."

Orm felt a flare of annoyance in her chest as she watched the interaction. Lingling's shoulders stiffened, her discomfort clear. Without thinking, Orm stepped forward, the protective instinct that had been simmering suddenly kicking into action.

"Honey, Papa's looking for us," Orm said smoothly, her voice steady and casual as she slipped into the conversation. She placed a hand lightly on Lingling's arm and turned to face the man, raising an eyebrow in quiet challenge.

The man blinked, his confidence faltering as he registered Orm's presence. "Oh, I—uh—didn't realize—" he stammered, his eyes darting between Orm and Lingling. Recognition dawned quickly, and his expression shifted to one of nervous respect. "Of course. Please, excuse me."

Orm didn't miss a beat. "Thanks," she said coolly, before steering Lingling away from him. As they walked off, Orm glanced back over her shoulder and added casually, "Oh, and let's keep this on the downlow, shall we?"

The man nodded eagerly, clearly eager to retreat.

Once they were safely away, Lingling turned to Orm, her lips twitching into a half-smile and her eyebrow arched in amusement. "Honey?" she asked, her voice light and teasing.

Orm shrugged, her lips curling into a smirk. "What? He was bothering you."

Lingling chuckled softly, her shoulders relaxing now that the moment had passed. "I appreciate the save," she said, her eyes sparkling with humor. "But... am I missing something? He seemed to recognize you immediately."

"Nah," Orm replied with a casual wave of her hand, though her heart was still racing. "You know me here better than anyone."

Lingling's smile softened, her gaze lingering on Orm for a moment. "Well, in that case, thank you. That was... unexpected, but appreciated."

Orm felt a swell of pride at her words, though she tried to keep her expression nonchalant. "Anytime," she said, her tone light, though her chest felt strangely warm.

They made their way toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, settling into the easy rhythm of conversation that had become familiar over the years. Lingling's presence always seemed to make Orm feel lighter, the weight of the world momentarily lifted.

"You seem more confident this year," Lingling observed, tilting her head slightly as she studied Orm. "Like you've found your footing."

Orm shrugged, though her cheeks warmed under Lingling's gaze. "Maybe I'm just better at faking it."

Lingling smiled knowingly, her eyes holding Orm's for a beat longer. "No, I don't think it's fake. You've grown a lot, Orm. It suits you."

The sincerity in Lingling's tone made Orm's heart skip a beat. She glanced away, taking a sip of her drink to steady herself. "Thanks," she said softly. "That means a lot coming from you."

Lingling raised an eyebrow, her smile turning playful. "Why's that?"

Orm hesitated, her chest tightening slightly, before deciding to be honest. "Because... you're the only reason I come to these things," she admitted, her voice quieter now but steady. "If you weren't here, I'd probably fake a stomach ache and skip it altogether."

Lingling's cheeks flushed faintly, her gaze softening as she looked at Orm. "Well," she said, her voice gentle, "I'm glad I make it worth your while."

They both laughed, the moment stretching between them, warm and unspoken. Orm wasn't quite sure what this feeling was—it wasn't love, but it was something deeper than friendship. A quiet warmth seemed to bloom in her chest whenever Lingling smiled at her like that, like she saw her for who she really was.

The evening passed quickly, the rest of the party fading into the background as they laughed over inside jokes, reminisced about past holiday parties, and shared stories about their year. Orm felt more at ease than she had in weeks, Lingling's presence grounding her in a way she couldn't fully explain but knew she didn't want to lose.

When it was time to part, Lingling touched Orm's arm lightly, her fingers lingering for just a moment. "I'll see you next year?" she asked, her tone warm and hopeful.

Orm nodded, her chest tightening slightly at the thought of waiting another year. "Yeah. I'll be here."

Lingling's smile widened, her gaze lingering just a little longer before she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

As Orm watched her go, she felt a quiet sense of longing settle over her. Whatever this connection was, it was becoming something more. And though she wasn't quite ready to put a name to it, she knew one thing for certain: Lingling was someone very important to her.

End Of Flashback

By the fourth year, Orm continued to hear her father sing Lingling's praises, the young employee in Finance who had quickly become one of the company's rising stars. Over dinners and casual conversations, Lingling's name came up more frequently than ever, woven into stories of successful projects and smooth turnarounds.

"She's sharp," her father remarked one evening, setting down his glass of wine as the family gathered for dinner. "Her instincts are impeccable. I've seen people twice her age fumble under pressure, but Lingling? She thrives. She has this ability to see the bigger picture while staying on top of the details. It's rare, and it's exactly what this company needs."

His tone carried an unmistakable respect, one that wasn't easily earned. Orm had grown used to hearing her father critique even the most capable employees, always looking for ways they could improve. But when it came to Lingling, his words were uncharacteristically unguarded, filled with admiration.

"I trust her judgment implicitly," he added, his voice firm, as if to emphasize the weight of his approval. "If we had more like her in the company, I'd sleep a lot easier at night."

Orm couldn't help but smile at his words, her heart swelling with pride. Lingling had clearly earned her place, carving out a reputation for herself as someone reliable, brilliant, and indispensable. It wasn't surprising—Orm had seen glimpses of that brilliance in their conversations. The way Lingling spoke about her work, her ideas brimming with quiet confidence, was a reflection of her dedication and drive. Still, hearing her father validate what Orm already knew about Lingling filled her with an unexpected sense of joy.

What her father didn't know, of course, was the personal connection Orm had with Lingling. She liked it that way. Their yearly holiday party meetings were a world apart from the professional sphere her father spoke of. Orm cherished that separation, the idea that the Lingling she knew—the warm, funny, down-to-earth woman who drank ginger ale at fancy parties—existed outside of the corporate context.

Orm didn't want to share those moments, didn't want them to be entangled with her father's admiration or the company's expectations. The holiday parties were theirs, a tradition that felt intimate and unspoken. Each year, when Lingling smiled at her across the room or leaned in during one of their conversations, it felt like a secret the two of them shared—a thread connecting them in a way Orm couldn't explain.

Still, as the months went by, Orm found herself thinking about Lingling more often. It wasn't just the growing pride she felt in her accomplishments or the excitement of seeing her again at the holiday party. It was the way Lingling's presence had quietly embedded itself in Orm's life, her name stirring a mixture of emotions that Orm wasn't ready to fully unpack.

Lingling had become more than just a name her father praised at dinner or a familiar face at company gatherings. She was someone who made Orm's world feel lighter, who turned the monotonous grind of expectations into something bearable. And as the holiday party approached, Orm realized she wasn't just looking forward to the event—she was looking forward to her.

Flashback

Orm came home one evening, her steps heavy with exhaustion after a grueling day at university. Her mind swirled with lecture notes, looming deadlines, and the mounting pressure of her thesis. All she wanted was the usual quiet of the house to unwind, maybe even collapse on the couch for a few minutes before tackling her workload again. She pushed the front door open, half expecting to be greeted by silence, but instead, a low hum of voices drifted from the living room.

Curious, she dropped her bag on the table near the door and followed the sound. As she turned the corner, her movements slowed, and then stopped altogether. Sitting on the couch, facing her father, was Lingling Kwong.

For a moment, Orm thought she might be hallucinating, her tired brain playing tricks on her. But no, Lingling was very much real—her polished, professional self dressed impeccably in a crisp white blouse tucked into tailored navy trousers. She sat with perfect posture, nodding attentively as her father spoke, the epitome of composed professionalism.

But when Lingling's gaze shifted toward the doorway and landed on Orm, everything about her demeanor changed. Her eyes widened in shock, and her mouth parted slightly as if to say something, though no words came out. The poised confidence she always exuded faltered for just a second, replaced by pure disbelief.

Orm's father, noticing Lingling's reaction, turned in his seat and gestured toward Orm with a small, proud smile. "Ah, there you are," he said. "Orm, come in. I'd like to formally introduce you to someone."

Lingling's gaze darted back and forth between Orm and her father, confusion written all over her face. Orm's pulse quickened as she stepped into the room, unsure of how to navigate the sudden tension.

"This is my daughter, Kornnaphat," her father said, his voice brimming with pride. "Though everyone calls her Orm. She'll be working at the company in the near future."

Lingling blinked, her composure wavering again. "Your... daughter?" she repeated slowly, as though she were trying to reconcile this new piece of information with everything she thought she knew.

Orm offered an awkward smile, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Surprise?" she said lightly, attempting to diffuse the moment.

Lingling's disbelief only deepened, her brows furrowing slightly as realization began to dawn. "You're... the heir to Sethachon?" she asked, her voice tinged with incredulity.

"She is," her father confirmed with a nod, completely unaware of the undercurrent of emotion between the two women. "She's currently studying Economics to prepare for her role. It's a rigorous path, but she's been doing well."

Lingling sat up a little straighter, her posture shifting back to something more professional, though Orm could still see the lingering surprise in her eyes. "I... I didn't realize," she said carefully, her voice measured and polite.

Her father, oblivious to the subtle tension, continued smoothly, "Lingling here has been doing exceptional work for the company. She stopped by to deliver some documents and discuss the next quarter's budget projections."

Orm nodded, glancing at Lingling again. She could sense the effort Lingling was putting into maintaining her composure, though there was still an unspoken question in her eyes. "Well," Orm said, trying to shift the mood, "if she's staying for dinner, maybe I can join you?"

Her father raised an eyebrow at the suggestion but didn't object. "Not a bad idea. We can all discuss the upcoming projects together." He turned to Lingling with an expectant look. "You'll stay, won't you?"

Lingling hesitated, her gaze flickering briefly to Orm before returning to her father. For a moment, Orm thought she might decline, but then she nodded, her tone measured. "Of course, if it's no trouble."

Orm breathed an internal sigh of relief, though her heart was still racing. Lingling was here, in her home, and the dynamics between them had shifted dramatically in the span of minutes. Dinner was going to be interesting, to say the least.

Dinner was a study in contrasts. Lingling, as composed and professional as ever, kept the conversation firmly anchored in work. She answered Orm's father's questions with precision, offering insights on upcoming projects and budget strategies. Her tone was steady, her words measured, yet every so often, her gaze would flicker toward Orm. There was something in her expression—a mixture of curiosity and subtle tension—that made Orm's heart race.

Orm, however, found herself uncharacteristically quiet. She wasn't sure how to navigate this situation, the sharp contrast between Lingling's easy familiarity at holiday parties and the polished, almost untouchable version of her now seated at the family dinner table. Watching her father and Lingling engage so seamlessly filled Orm with pride, but there was unease as well. Would Lingling see her differently now, knowing the weight of her family's legacy? Would this change what they shared?

"You're unusually quiet tonight, Orm," her father said suddenly, his tone lightly teasing. The comment snapped Orm out of her spiraling thoughts, and she glanced up, startled.

Lingling's lips twitched into a subtle smile, which she quickly hid behind her glass of water.

"Just tired from school," Orm said quickly, reaching for her own glass to cover her nervousness. "It's been a long day."

Lingling spoke up then, her voice softer than before. "University must be tough, especially with everything else you're balancing," she said, her tone laced with understanding.

Orm glanced at her, catching the faint warmth in her eyes. It was as though Lingling was trying to bridge the gap that had suddenly grown between them. "It is," Orm admitted, "but I'm managing."

Lingling nodded, her smile faint but genuine. "I'm sure you'll handle it just fine. You seem more capable than you let on."

The compliment hit Orm harder than she expected, her heart skipping a beat. She looked down at her plate, suddenly hyperaware of the blush creeping up her neck. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice quieter now.

Her father, oblivious to the subtle tension, continued talking about the company, and Orm let the conversation wash over her, half-listening as Lingling answered his questions with her usual poise.

When dinner ended, Lingling thanked Orm's father politely before turning to Orm. "Would you mind walking me out?" she asked, her voice casual, though her eyes lingered on Orm a beat too long.

"Of course," Orm replied quickly, standing and grabbing the door keys. She could feel the weight of Lingling's gaze as they made their way to the door, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway.

The night air was cool, a gentle breeze brushing past them as they stepped outside. The sounds of the city hummed faintly in the background, but in that moment, everything seemed unnaturally still. Lingling turned to face Orm, her composed expression softening under the dim porch light.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lingling asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, but there was something behind it—curiosity, yes, but also a faint edge of something else.

Orm hesitated, her hands slipping into her pockets. "I didn't want to bring it up," she said, her tone quieter now. "I figured it didn't matter."

Lingling studied her, her gaze steady but searching. "It might not matter to you, but..." She trailed off, her lips pressing into a faint line before continuing. "It's a lot to process. I've known you for years now, and not once did you hint—"

"I didn't want it to change anything," Orm interjected, her voice firmer than she intended. She looked down briefly, then back at Lingling. "I liked that you didn't treat me like... like an heir. Like someone with a title. I didn't want that to get in the way."

Lingling's expression shifted, her brows knitting slightly as she crossed her arms, her posture no longer as relaxed. "Orm," she said softly, her voice tinged with something close to frustration. "It's not about the title. It's about trust."

The words hit harder than Orm expected, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. The idea that she might have damaged something between them made her chest tighten. "I do trust you," she said finally, her tone quieter now, almost hesitant. "I just... didn't know how to bring it up without making things weird."

Lingling let out a soft breath, her arms uncrossing as her expression softened slightly. "I can understand that," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But it's still a lot to take in. I mean, you're—" She paused, gesturing vaguely, as if the word "heir" carried too much weight to say aloud. "It changes the context, you know? It doesn't change who you are, but it changes... us."

The last word lingered in the air between them, heavier than either of them expected. Orm swallowed hard, the tension thick and almost suffocating. "I don't want it to," she said earnestly, taking a small step closer. "I don't want this to change... whatever this is."

Lingling's gaze softened further, and the corners of her lips lifted into a faint, bittersweet smile. "You know, it's funny," she said after a moment. "You're saying it doesn't matter, but I think it matters to you more than you realize."

The words stung, not because they were unkind, but because they rang with uncomfortable truth. Orm opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, uncertain of how to deny something she wasn't sure she disagreed with.

After a long pause, Lingling let out a soft sigh, her expression shifting to something gentler. "I'll need some time to adjust," she said quietly, her tone no longer accusatory but understanding. "But for what it's worth, I don't think this changes how I see you."

Orm exhaled, relief flooding her chest. "That's all I wanted," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lingling's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "I'll see you at the next holiday party?"

Orm nodded, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah. I'll be there." She hesitated, her voice softening. "Unless you visit the house again before then."

Lingling laughed lightly, her gaze flickering with something warmer now. "I wouldn't rule it out," she said playfully, though there was a faint edge to her tone that Orm couldn't quite place.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them crackling with something unspoken. Lingling's eyes lingered on Orm's face, searching for something Orm wasn't sure she could give. The weight of that moment, the lingering tension, made Orm's heart race, her breath hitching slightly as she fought to maintain her composure.

Lingling broke the silence first, her voice softer now. "Goodnight, Orm."

"Goodnight," Orm replied, watching as Lingling turned and walked toward her car.

Orm stood in the doorway, her hands clenched into loose fists in her pockets, as the sound of Lingling's footsteps faded into the night. The cool air brushed against her skin, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Lingling's words replayed in her mind, each one a reminder of the delicate balance they now had to navigate.

She couldn't change who she was, but she could hold onto what they had—however fragile and undefined it might feel. As Lingling's car disappeared down the road, Orm made a quiet resolve: she would protect the connection they'd built, even if it meant waiting for the right moment to make sense of everything that lingered between them.

---

When the holiday party came around again, Orm was officially a graduate with a degree in Economics. The whirlwind of the past months—the chaos of finishing her final courses, presenting her thesis, and the pomp of her graduation ceremony—had consumed her. For a time, the chance encounter with Lingling at her home had been pushed to the back of her mind. But now, with the party in full swing, the memory of Lingling resurfaced, sharper and more vivid than ever.

Orm sat in a secluded corner of the grand ballroom, away from the crowd, letting out a deep breath. The congratulatory greetings and handshakes from guests had been relentless, a constant reminder of her father's pride. It seemed the entire room knew about her accomplishments. Her father had boasted about her magna cum laude honors, her selection as batch representative, and her special recognition at the graduation ceremony. Orm felt fortunate, of course—graduating at the top of her class, receiving a scholarship for her master's program—but tonight, it all felt stifling. She longed for a moment of quiet, away from the weight of everyone's expectations.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink into the relative calm of her solitude. It was then that she felt a presence nearby, quiet and familiar. She might have ignored it, but the voice that followed was one she couldn't mistake—warm, soothing, and grounding.

"Congratulations," Lingling said, her voice soft but clear.

Orm opened her eyes to see Lingling standing before her, holding a champagne flute stretched out toward her. Lingling's smile was gentle, her presence a balm to the otherwise overwhelming night. Orm reached out, accepting the glass, and took a sip, surprised by the effervescence.

"It's champagne," Orm remarked, her brows lifting slightly in surprise.

Lingling chuckled lightly, reading her expression. "Figured you're old enough now, and I'm in a celebratory mood," she teased, raising her own flute in a small toast.

"Thank you," Orm said quietly, her voice sincere.

"Party too much?" Lingling asked, her gaze steady and knowing.

"Just the people," Orm admitted with a small groan. "Papa's been bragging about me all night, so I guess everyone knows."

Lingling raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "You mean about you being magna cum laude or about you giving the batch representative speech at graduation?"

Orm blinked, her surprise evident. "You know about that?"

"Your father is way too proud of you, Orm," Lingling said, her tone laced with amusement. "He'll tell anyone who's willing to listen."

Orm let out a soft groan, running a hand over her face. "It's so embarrassing."

Lingling shook her head, her smile softening into something more genuine. "I think it's heartwarming. You're very lucky, Orm." Her voice held a faint note of wistfulness, a shadow of something unspoken, and it made Orm pause.

"Hey," Orm said gently, her eyes meeting Lingling's. "I'm proud of you, you know. Every time Papa brags about your accomplishments at home, you're like the perfect daughter in his eyes."

Lingling's smile grew, a light laugh escaping her lips. "Perfect, huh? That's a first."

Their conversation fell into a companionable silence, the kind of quiet that didn't need to be filled. Sitting there with Lingling, Orm felt a deep sense of gratitude. Lingling was the only person who could make her feel at ease in moments like these, her presence a steady anchor in an otherwise overwhelming sea.

After a while, Orm cleared her throat. "Lingling, I'd still like to apologize about before. I didn't mean to crack your trust in me."

Lingling shook her head, her expression calm. "I get it, Orm. It was just the shock, but I've moved past it. Nothing's going to change between us—we're still friends."

Orm smiled at that, though her heart felt an inexplicable pang at the word friends.

As they continued talking, the noise of the party began to fade. Eventually, Orm suggested they step out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Lingling followed without hesitation.

The balcony overlooked Bangkok, the city lights twinkling like stars against the inky sky. Lingling leaned against the railing, gazing upward at the actual stars, while Orm stood beside her, unable to look at anything but Lingling.

It wasn't planned, and Orm couldn't explain what came over her, but before she knew it, her hand had cupped Lingling's cheek, and she leaned in, pressing her lips softly to Lingling's. The world seemed to stop, the bustling sounds of the city and the muffled party fading into nothingness.

For a moment, Lingling didn't move, her frame frozen in surprise. Realizing what she'd done, Orm pulled back abruptly, her face flushed. "I'm sorry," she stammered, stepping back, her heart sinking as she turned to leave.

But before she could take another step, Lingling's hand grabbed her arm, pulling her back with surprising force. Lingling's other hand cupped Orm's face, and suddenly, her lips were on Orm's—fierce, intent, and filled with everything left unspoken between them.

The kiss was unlike anything Orm had ever experienced. It wasn't just a meeting of lips—it was a collision of emotions, a quiet alignment of everything she hadn't been able to articulate. It felt like finding the missing piece of a puzzle, like the stars aligning, like home.

When they finally broke apart, Orm rested her forehead against Lingling's, her breath coming in soft, shaky exhales.

"So much for being friends," Lingling murmured, her voice tinged with humor, but her eyes still searching Orm's.

Orm let out a small laugh, her lips brushing Lingling's as she spoke. "Are you complaining, Lingling Kwong?"

"Not one bit," Lingling replied, pecking Orm's lips once more with a gentleness that made Orm's chest ache in the best way.

They stayed on the balcony for the rest of the night, their hands intertwined, sharing quiet words and lingering touches. It wasn't until Orm's phone buzzed with an inevitable call from her father that they finally broke their embrace.

"I'll see you soon," Orm said softly as they parted, her eyes lingering on Lingling's face.

Lingling nodded, her smile warm and sure. "You'd better."

As Orm walked back inside, her heart felt lighter than it had in years. This was the beginning of something, she knew, and for once, she wasn't afraid of where it might lead.

End of flashback

In the fifth year, their dynamics transformed completely. What had once been a fleeting, once-a-year connection evolved into something far more intimate. Orm found herself making time for Lingling—real, deliberate time—and Lingling, with a better work-life balance, happily reciprocated. They began exploring the city together, sharing quiet afternoons and bustling evenings. If Orm had thought seeing Lingling once a year at the holiday parties was magical, seeing her almost every day felt like living in a dream. Being in Lingling's orbit brought Orm a sense of fulfillment she hadn't known she was missing.

She wasn't in love—not yet—but she could see herself falling. With every thoughtful act, every soft smile, and every moment of connection, Lingling made Orm feel like love wasn't just a possibility; it was inevitable. Lingling had a way of making the world feel lighter, as if her presence could smooth the edges of even the most stressful days.

Lingling was the kind of partner Orm had only read about in books—a true gentlewoman. She was attentive in a way that felt effortless, always listening to Orm, even when the topics were lighthearted or downright silly. Orm could ramble about anything, from obscure economic theories to the latest show she'd binged, and Lingling would nod along, genuinely engaged.

It wasn't just the big gestures that melted Orm's heart—it was the little things. The way Lingling always made sure Orm's favorite drink was waiting for her when they met up, or how she remembered the exact way Orm liked her noodles. The way she'd tuck a stray strand of hair behind Orm's ear when the wind blew too hard, her touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Or how she would grab Orm's hand in crowded places, ensuring they stayed connected in the chaos of the city.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves strolling through Talat Noi, their hands intertwined as they explored the vibrant streets. The air was rich with the aroma of sizzling street food, and vendors called out, advertising their wares. Orm loved days like this—when the world felt alive, and she had Lingling by her side.

They stopped at a small noodle shop tucked into a corner, sharing bowls of hot, flavorful soup while the city bustled around them. As they ate, Lingling reached out, brushing a stray bit of chili sauce from the corner of Orm's lips with a soft chuckle.

"If you hadn't kissed me that night, I may not have had the courage to do it myself," Lingling admitted suddenly, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a deeper emotion.

Orm looked up, startled by the confession. She tugged gently at Lingling's hand, turning it in hers until Lingling's gaze met hers. "Why's that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Lingling's cheeks turned faintly pink, her usually composed demeanor giving way to something shyer. "I thought you were too good for me," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Orm's heart ached at the vulnerability in Lingling's words, and she shook her head firmly. "Well, I think you're the one who's too good for me," she replied, her tone soft but sure.

Lingling's lips curved into a small smile, her fingers brushing lightly against Orm's. "I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."

But with Lingling's charm and warm demeanor came an unexpected revelation for Orm: she was, undeniably, a jealous person. It wasn't something she had ever given much thought to before—her world had always been structured, controlled, and mostly devoid of situations where jealousy might rear its head. But Lingling had a way of drawing people in effortlessly, and it stirred something possessive in Orm that she hadn't known was there.

Lingling seemed to attract attention wherever they went. Whether it was a friendly vendor slipping her an extra portion of mango sticky rice, a stranger stopping her for directions, or a coworker lingering a little too long during a casual chat, Lingling's calm demeanor and genuine warmth made her magnetic. Orm trusted Lingling completely, but that didn't stop the knot that formed in her stomach when someone stood too close or laughed a little too enthusiastically at something Lingling said.

Her reactions were instinctive. She'd find herself stepping closer, her hand brushing Lingling's as though to stake a quiet claim. Sometimes, she'd loop an arm around Lingling's waist, tugging her just a little closer. Lingling always noticed, of course. She would glance at Orm with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement, but she never said anything in the moment.

At first, Orm couldn't help but pepper Lingling with questions whenever someone caught her attention for too long. "Who was that?" she'd ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"A coworker," Lingling would reply patiently, or, "Just someone I bumped into at the gym." Her tone was always calm, always reassuring, but Orm couldn't help the tiny twinge of insecurity that lingered.

One evening, they were sitting in a cozy café, sharing a dessert after dinner. Lingling had waved briefly to a man seated at the counter and exchanged a few words in Thai that Orm couldn't quite catch. The man had laughed, a little too easily for Orm's liking, and as Lingling returned to their table, Orm couldn't hold back.

"Who was that?" she asked, her voice betraying the hint of jealousy she was trying to mask.

Lingling set her cup of tea down and turned to Orm, her expression soft but amused. "He's just a friend, Princess," she said, her voice a gentle tease.

Orm's lips twitched at the nickname, but she didn't fully relax until Lingling leaned forward, cupping her cheek with one hand. "You take up way too much space in my head for anyone else," Lingling added, her tone half-joking, half-serious. Then she pressed a soft kiss to Orm's lips, lingering just long enough to melt Orm's insecurities.

Orm smiled against Lingling's lips, her arms slipping around Lingling's waist as she murmured, "Good."

Over time, Lingling's reassurances helped Orm temper her jealousy. Lingling's words and actions were always consistent, always rooted in a quiet kind of devotion that made Orm feel secure. But that didn't mean the occasional flare of possessiveness didn't creep in every now and then.

One afternoon, they were walking through a bustling weekend market, the air rich with the scent of spices and grilled meats. Lingling had stopped to chat with a vendor selling handmade jewelry, her voice warm and friendly as she admired the pieces. Orm watched from a short distance, her arms crossed as the vendor—an older man with a toothy grin—seemed entirely too captivated by Lingling.

When the conversation stretched a little longer than Orm liked, she stepped forward, slipping her hand into Lingling's and interlacing their fingers. Lingling glanced at her briefly, her smile widening as though she understood exactly what was going on.

"Found something you like?" Orm asked, her tone light but her grip on Lingling's hand firm.

Lingling chuckled softly, thanking the vendor before turning her attention fully to Orm. "You're adorable when you're jealous, you know that?"

Orm huffed, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. "I'm not jealous," she said, a little too quickly.

Lingling leaned in, pressing a kiss to Orm's temple. "Sure, you're not," she teased. "But just in case, let me remind you—there's no one else I'd rather be here with."

The words, spoken so easily yet with so much certainty, made Orm's chest tighten in the best way.

For Orm, Lingling's calm and steady presence was like an anchor, grounding her in a way she hadn't known she needed. Lingling never made her feel ridiculous for her moments of insecurity; instead, she met them with quiet understanding and unwavering patience.

And for every moment of possessiveness Orm felt, there were countless others when Lingling's affection erased any doubt. The way Lingling would reach for her hand in a crowd, or the way she would kiss Orm's knuckles absentmindedly as they sat together, always made Orm feel seen, chosen, and cherished.

Lingling's reassurance wasn't just in her words but in the way she showed up for Orm every single day. It was in her consistency, her loyalty, and the way her eyes always softened when they landed on Orm.

For Orm, Lingling's stability and calmness were more than just qualities she admired—they were lifelines. Lingling was the steady hand in the chaos of Orm's world, a grounding force that brought clarity to her often restless energy. Where Orm tended to leap before looking, Lingling would pause, assess, and guide her back to firmer ground. When Orm's mind spun with worries about her responsibilities, Lingling's calm reassurances were like an anchor, keeping her from being swept away.

They complemented each other in ways that felt almost effortless. Orm's spontaneity often brought a spark to Lingling's otherwise measured approach, while Lingling's quiet wisdom gave Orm a sense of direction. Together, they created a rhythm that felt natural and unshakable, like they were two pieces of a puzzle fitting seamlessly into place.

One night, after a particularly long day, they found themselves on Lingling's couch, the soft glow of the TV bathing the room in flickering light. A movie played in the background, but neither of them was paying much attention. A shared blanket covered their legs, and a half-empty bag of popcorn rested between them.

Orm leaned back into the cushions, her eyes drawn not to the screen but to Lingling. Lingling was sitting beside her, completely at ease, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soft, looping patterns on the back of Orm's hand. The sensation was soothing, almost hypnotic, and Orm found herself focusing on it, on the gentle weight of Lingling's touch and the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"Ling," Orm said softly, her voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Hmm?" Lingling murmured, her eyes still on the screen, though her fingers paused their movement for a brief second.

"Thank you," Orm said, her voice low but steady.

Lingling turned to her then, her eyes questioning but warm. "For what?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"For... this," Orm said, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. "For being you. For putting up with me. For..." She trailed off, searching for the right words to capture the depth of what she felt. "For always knowing how to make everything better, even when I don't realize I need it."

Lingling's expression softened, and a smile spread across her lips—a smile that was small but filled with so much understanding it made Orm's chest ache. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Orm's forehead.

"You make it easy," Lingling whispered, her voice carrying a tenderness that sent a shiver down Orm's spine.

Orm closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss, letting the moment wash over her. When Lingling pulled back, their faces were still close, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

"You really think I'm easy to deal with?" Orm asked, her lips curving into a teasing smile, though her voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability.

Lingling chuckled softly, her fingers resuming their soft patterns on Orm's hand. "Not always," she admitted, her tone playful. "But that's part of what makes you, you. And I wouldn't change a thing."

The words settled in Orm's chest, filling her with a warmth she couldn't quite describe. She wasn't just falling for Lingling—she was already there. Every moment they shared, every small gesture of affection, brought her closer to the realization that Lingling wasn't just someone she wanted in her life. She was someone Orm needed, in the most beautiful and unshakable way.

Orm tilted her head to rest it on Lingling's shoulder, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. The movie they had chosen to watch played in the background, but neither of them was paying attention anymore. The soft flicker of the television screen bathed the room in muted light, casting long shadows as the night deepened. Lingling shifted slightly to accommodate Orm, wrapping an arm securely around her shoulders. Orm nuzzled closer, the steady rhythm of Lingling's breathing grounding her.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night, cocooned in a shared silence that spoke louder than any words could. Orm felt the weight of her day melt away, replaced by the quiet comfort of Lingling's presence. It was moments like this—unspoken, unhurried—that made Orm realize just how deeply Lingling had become a part of her life.

Within that same year, Lingling's star at the company continued to rise. When the announcement came that she had been promoted to Head of Finance, Orm had been unsurprised but immensely proud. People had been skeptical at first—questioning her age, her relatively short tenure at the company, and whether she could handle such a significant role. But Lingling, ever composed and unshakable under pressure, silenced every doubt within months.

Her decisions were sharp and her leadership measured, earning her the respect of colleagues and senior executives alike. Lingling had a way of commanding a room without raising her voice, of exuding authority without arrogance. Even Orm's father, who rarely ventured out of his office, often made the trip to Lingling's instead to discuss key business matters.

"I trust her judgment more than most," Orm had overheard him say during one family dinner. "She doesn't just solve problems—she anticipates them. It's a rare gift."

Orm's chest had swelled with pride at his words, though she said nothing at the time. She knew how brilliant Lingling was—she had always known. But hearing it from her father, someone whose standards bordered on impossible, made it all the more satisfying.

Flashback

As months passed and their relationship deepened, Orm began to feel the quiet tug of inevitability: it was time to tell her family. Dating Lingling had been a private joy, something they had kept to themselves while they navigated the early stages of their relationship. But now, with Lingling holding a much higher position at the company and their connection growing stronger each day, Orm knew it was only a matter of time before they'd need to come forward.

One evening, as they sat together on Orm's couch, Lingling leaned back against the cushions, her fingers lazily tracing circles on Orm's knee. "So," she began, her voice casual but carrying an undertone of curiosity. "When do you think we should tell your family?"

Orm glanced up at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I've been thinking about that too," she admitted.

Lingling raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and caution. "And?"

Orm reached for Lingling's hand, lacing their fingers together. "I think it's time. I don't want to hide us anymore."

Lingling's gaze softened, and she gave Orm's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Are you sure? I mean, with me being promoted and everything... I don't want it to seem like—"

"Ling," Orm interrupted gently, her tone firm but affectionate. "You earned that promotion because you're incredible at what you do. If anyone thinks otherwise, that's their problem, not ours."

Lingling let out a soft laugh, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Orm grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to Lingling's cheek. "We'll do it soon. But no matter what happens, just remember—my family will love you. They already admire you. This won't change that."

Lingling nodded, though Orm could see the flicker of nerves in her eyes. She leaned her head against Orm's, letting out a quiet sigh. "Okay," she said softly. "Let's tell them."

Orm held her close, silently promising herself that whatever challenges lay ahead, they'd face them together. And as they sat there, entwined in each other's warmth, Orm couldn't help but feel that their love—quiet, steady, and unwavering—was something worth fighting for.

The sun hung lazily in the sky one random weekend as Orm pulled the car into the driveway of her family home. Lingling sat beside her, unusually quiet. Her hands rested in her lap, her fingers twisting nervously around each other. Orm reached over, stilling them with her own, giving Lingling's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Do we have to do this now?" Lingling asked, her voice hesitant as she looked up at the house that suddenly seemed much larger than she remembered.

"No time like the present," Orm replied, her tone brimming with courage, enough for both of them. Her determination was unwavering, her smile steady as if to say we've got this.

Lingling sighed, leaning back in her seat. She turned to Orm, her gaze searching, then steady. Taking a deep breath, she cupped Orm's cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over her skin. Lingling's eyes softened, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I love you."

"What?" Orm froze, her breath hitching as her heart leapt in her chest.

Lingling's lips twitched into a nervous smile. "In case the meeting goes to shit, I just want to say that I love you," she repeated, her voice firmer now but still carrying the weight of vulnerability.

For a moment, Orm simply stared, stunned by the confession. But then, without hesitation, she leaned in, her lips meeting Lingling's in a searing kiss. It was full of everything she couldn't put into words—her gratitude, her relief, her own love that had been bubbling under the surface, waiting for the right moment.

When they pulled back, Orm pressed her forehead against Lingling's, their breaths mingling in the charged silence. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice soft but resolute. "Now, let's go inside and let you meet my family—not as the head of finance, but as my girlfriend."

Lingling nodded, the corners of her lips curving into a small, shaky smile. "Alright," she said, steeling herself. "Let's do this."

Whatever horror story Lingling had conjured up in her mind about meeting Orm's family, reality couldn't have been further from it. The moment they stepped inside, Papa Oct—Orm's father—practically lit up with excitement. He greeted Lingling like an old friend, his handshake firm and warm, and his eyes sparkling with delight.

"So, this is the woman I've been raving about," Papa Oct said, grinning widely as he gestured for them to sit. "Lingling, I've admired your work for years. But now I get to admire you for being the one to steal my daughter's heart. You've got my blessing already."

Lingling blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. Orm nudged her gently, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "See? Nothing to worry about," she whispered.

If her father's reaction was enthusiastic, her mother's was nothing short of doting. Throughout dinner, she fussed over Lingling like a long-lost daughter, asking about her favorite dishes, ensuring she had enough food on her plate, and even commenting on how lovely her hair looked.

"Mae," Orm said after her mother poured Lingling another glass of water and placed a napkin by her hand. "That's just normal for her."

Her mother pulled Orm aside during a lull in conversation, her voice low but filled with affection. "It's not just normal, Orm. I can see how much she cares about you in the little things she does. She watches you like you're the most important person in the room."

Orm flushed slightly but smiled. "That's just who she is, Mae."

"Well, I like her," her mother said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "She's good for you."

After dinner, as they prepared to leave, Papa Oct pulled Lingling aside, his expression more serious now but still warm. "Lingling," he began, his voice quieter. "Take care of her, alright? She's stubborn, but she's got a good heart. I can see that you do too."

Lingling nodded, her voice steady as she replied, "I will, sir. You have my word."

Orm joined them then, sliding her arm around Lingling's waist. "Alright, Papa. You've grilled her enough for one night."

Papa Oct chuckled, patting Orm on the shoulder. "I'm just making sure, kiddo. You've got yourself a keeper here."

As they drove away from the house later that night, Lingling let out a long breath, her shoulders finally relaxing. "That wasn't nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be," she admitted, glancing over at Orm.

Orm grinned, reaching over to intertwine their fingers. "Told you they'd love you."

Lingling shook her head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her. "I wasn't expecting that level of enthusiasm, though."

"They know how lucky I am," Orm said simply, her voice laced with affection. "And they're right."

Lingling turned to her, her smile softening into something more intimate. "I think I'm the lucky one," she said quietly.

Orm raised their joined hands, brushing a kiss to Lingling's knuckles. "Guess we're both lucky, then."

And as they drove through the quiet streets of Bangkok, their hands clasped tightly together, Lingling couldn't help but think that, for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should be.

---

The revelation of Lingling's relationship with Orm didn't come as a shock to everyone—it had always been whispered about in corners of the office, especially since Orm's family was so prominent. But when it was officially acknowledged, it was as if a switch flipped.

Lingling, who had spent years building trust and respect among her colleagues, now found herself on the outside looking in. Meetings that used to flow seamlessly now carried an undercurrent of tension. Conversations would pause when she entered a room, polite smiles masking whispered doubts. To many, she was no longer "Lingling, the Head of Finance," but "Lingling, Orm's girlfriend."

At first, Lingling tried to rise above it. She maintained her professionalism, her head held high as she navigated the subtle yet cutting shift in her colleagues' behavior. But the strain began to show.

Her once-bright smile dimmed. Her shoulders, always square and confident, slumped slightly as she walked through the halls. The meticulous care she usually put into her appearance faltered—dark circles lingered under her eyes, and the light blush she always wore was absent, leaving her looking pale and exhausted. Lingling had always been composed, unflappable under pressure, but this felt different.

The whispers grew louder when a major project hit a snag. Lingling had always been decisive and respected for her ability to find solutions quickly, but now every decision she made seemed to be questioned, her authority undermined by thinly veiled insinuations.

"Do you think she cleared that with Orm?" one manager muttered, just loud enough for Lingling to overhear.

"Must be nice to have the heir in your corner," another chimed in.

Lingling's jaw tightened as she walked past, the weight of their words sinking deeper into her chest. No matter what she did, it felt as though her every move was being scrutinized, not for its merit, but for its connection to Orm.

Orm, meanwhile, noticed the changes in Lingling. The way she lingered at her desk late into the night, the tension in her voice when they talked about work, the exhaustion in her eyes when she thought Orm wasn't looking. It all came to a head one evening when Orm arrived at Lingling's office to find her staring blankly at her computer screen, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Ling," Orm said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

Lingling looked up, her expression tight. "Hey," she said, her voice hoarse.

Orm didn't waste time. She crossed the room and knelt beside Lingling's chair, taking her hands in her own. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Lingling shook her head, her gaze dropping to their joined hands. "It's nothing, Orm. Just... work."

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Orm said gently but firmly. "You've been off for weeks. You barely eat, you barely sleep, and you won't even look at me right now. Is it... is it us?"

Lingling flinched at the question, pulling her hands away as she stood abruptly, pacing to the window. "It's not us," she said, her voice tight. "But it's what everyone else thinks about us. They don't see me the same way anymore, Orm. To them, I'm not Lingling. I'm your girlfriend. They think every decision I make is biased, that I'm not... that I'm not one of them anymore."

Her voice broke on the last words, and Orm's heart clenched. She crossed the room, placing a hand on Lingling's shoulder, but Lingling stepped away, turning to face her with tears in her eyes.

"I've worked so hard for this, Orm," Lingling said, her voice trembling. "I've given everything to this job, to proving myself, and now it's like none of it matters. All they see is you."

Orm stared at her, the pain in Lingling's voice slicing through her. "Ling, I know this is hard. I know it's unfair. But don't push me away because of them."

Lingling shook her head, her arms wrapping around herself. "I don't want to push you away. I just... I don't know if I can keep doing this. The weight of it, the judgment—it's suffocating."

Orm took a step closer, her voice firm but laced with emotion. "Don't give up on this, Ling. Don't give up on me, don't give up on us, Lingling Kwong. I love you too much to let you go now. It's too late already—you're a part of my system now and forever."

Lingling's breath hitched, her tears spilling over as Orm closed the distance between them, cupping her face gently. "I know it's hard," Orm continued, her voice softer now. "But you're not alone in this. I'll fight for you. For us. Whatever it takes, we'll get through this together. But please, Love, don't shut me out."

Lingling's walls crumbled at Orm's words. She leaned into her touch, her tears soaking into Orm's hands as she let out a shaky breath. "I don't want to lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"You won't," Orm promised, pulling Lingling into a tight embrace. "I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you. You're stronger than this, Ling. Stronger than any of them. They'll see that. They already do—they're just too stupid to admit it. And you're not one of them, you've always stood out of the crowd. You're one of a kind."

Lingling let out a soft laugh through her tears, her arms wrapping around Orm's waist. "You always know what to say, Princess."

Orm pressed a kiss to Lingling's temple, her heart full of both love and determination. "That's because I know you. And I know us. We've been through too much to let a few whispers tear us apart."

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other as the weight of the day began to lift. Orm pulled back slightly, brushing a tear from Lingling's cheek. "Now, let's go home," she said gently. "You need to rest. We'll figure this out together tomorrow. Deal?"

Lingling nodded, her smile small but real. "Deal."

As they left the office together, Orm kept her arm securely around Lingling's waist, a silent promise that no matter what came their way, they would face it side by side. Together, they would overcome anything.

End of Flashback

Orm swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass, the soft clinking sound barely audible over the hum of the holiday party. The lights of the grand ballroom sparkled in the background, but her mind was elsewhere, as it often was when it came to Lingling Kwong. They had been through so much together—years of shared laughter, challenges, and quiet moments—and somehow, they had made it through every twist and turn. A small smile tugged at her lips as she drained the glass in one smooth motion.

Before she could set the glass down, a familiar hand slid around her waist, pulling her close. The warmth of Lingling's touch immediately grounded her, chasing away the drifting thoughts. Orm turned slightly, and there she was—Lingling, as radiant as ever, her smile soft and affectionate.

"Can you believe it's been seven years since we first met here?" Lingling asked, her voice a quiet murmur against Orm's ear as she placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

Orm leaned into her, her smile growing as she rested her hand over Lingling's. "Mhmm," she hummed, "and who'd have thought that the company's rising whiz kid would end up agreeing to marry me?"

Lingling chuckled softly, her laugh low and melodic. "Agree? Let's not forget who proposed first," she said, her tone teasing but laced with warmth.

"You stole my thunder, Lingling Kwong," Orm replied with a mock pout, tilting her head to meet Lingling's gaze. "I had it all planned out. It was going to be perfect."

Lingling grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What's yours is mine, Princess," she said, leaning in to peck Orm's lips. "Besides, I couldn't wait. I had to make sure you'd say yes before you had the chance to overthink it."

Orm laughed, the sound bubbling out of her as she looped her arms around Lingling's neck. "Overthink it? Please. You're the only thing I've ever been sure about."

Lingling's expression softened at that, the teasing glint in her eyes giving way to something deeper, something more tender. "Good," she said quietly, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Orm's face. "Because you're the best decision I've ever made."

Flashback

It was a quiet evening in late November, the air cool and crisp with the hint of the coming winter. Bangkok's skyline glittered in the distance, a sea of lights that stretched as far as the eye could see. On a private rooftop garden, the soft glow of fairy lights danced along the edges of the space, reflecting off the tiny glass lanterns scattered around. The scent of blooming jasmine filled the air, mingling with the faint sounds of the city below. It was the kind of setting that felt like it had been plucked straight from a dream.

Lingling stood near the edge of the balcony, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as she tried to still the tremble in her fingers. The velvet box hidden in her palm felt impossibly small for the weight it carried. She glanced over her shoulder at Orm, who was leaning against the railing, admiring the view with an unguarded smile on her face. The sight sent a wave of warmth through Lingling's chest, momentarily pushing aside her nerves.

"You really went all out tonight," Orm said, her voice light and teasing as she turned toward Lingling. "What's the occasion? Did I miss something?"

Lingling laughed softly, the sound shakier than she intended. "Does there have to be an occasion? Maybe I just wanted to spoil you."

Orm raised an eyebrow, stepping closer with a grin. "This is more than spoiling. This is... stunning. Seriously, Ling, what's up?"

Lingling took a deep breath, her hands slipping from her pockets to take Orm's. Her thumbs brushed gently over Orm's knuckles, grounding herself in the warmth of her touch. "There's something I've been wanting to say," she began, her voice quiet but steady.

Orm tilted her head, her smile fading into something softer, more curious. "You're being serious. What's on your mind?"

Lingling stepped even closer, their faces just inches apart. The lights reflected in Orm's eyes, and Lingling felt her breath hitch. "Orm, you've been the brightest part of my life for years now," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "You've seen me at my best, my worst, and every messy version of me in between. And no matter what, you've always made me feel like I'm enough. Like I'm more than enough."

Orm blinked, her brow furrowing slightly as her lips parted, but she said nothing, letting Lingling continue.

"I've spent so much of my life trying to prove myself to others, to earn my place. But with you..." Lingling's voice softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "With you, I don't have to try. You see me. The real me. And you love me for it."

Orm's eyes shimmered, her throat tightening at the vulnerability in Lingling's words. "Ling..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lingling let out a shaky laugh, dropping to one knee. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the velvet box, her hands trembling as she opened it to reveal the delicate ring inside. "You make me want to be better every single day," Lingling said, her voice gaining strength. "Not because you expect it, but because loving you makes everything else in the world feel possible. I want to spend my life making you laugh, holding you when things get hard, and showing you every day just how much you mean to me."

Orm's hand flew to her mouth, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as tears began to well in her eyes.

Lingling's own voice broke slightly as she asked, "Orm Kornnaphat Sethratanapong, will you marry me?"

For a moment, the world stood still. Orm stared down at Lingling, her heart pounding so loudly she thought it might burst. Then, in a flurry of motion, she dropped to her knees, cupping Lingling's face in her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Yes," Orm choked out, her voice trembling but sure. "Yes, of course, yes."

Lingling let out a laugh, relief and joy flooding her as she slipped the ring onto Orm's finger. But before she could say anything more, Orm let out a sudden laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "You thief," she said, her voice caught between a sob and a giggle.

Lingling blinked, confused. "What?"

Orm reached into her own pocket, pulling out another velvet box. She opened it to reveal a ring, simple yet elegant, glinting in the soft light. "You stole my thunder!" Orm exclaimed, laughing even as more tears spilled down her cheeks. "I was going to propose to you tonight."

Lingling's eyes widened, and then she burst into laughter, her own tears spilling over as she reached to touch Orm's cheek. "You were?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"I was," Orm confirmed, holding up the ring. Her voice softened, the playfulness fading into something raw and heartfelt. "Lingling Sirilak Kwong, will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you as much as you love me?"

Lingling didn't hesitate, nodding as tears streaked her face. "Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking. "A thousand times yes."

Orm slid the ring onto Lingling's finger, their hands trembling as they clasped together. Lingling leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that was as tender as it was powerful. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a promise, a merging of their hopes, fears, and dreams into something infinitely greater.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lingling let out a soft laugh, brushing a tear from Orm's cheek. "We're really bad at keeping surprises, aren't we?"

Orm grinned, her eyes still glistening. "Well, I think we're pretty good at saying yes."

Lingling kissed her again, this time softer, sweeter. "I can't wait to spend forever with you."

"Forever sounds perfect," Orm whispered, holding Lingling close.

And as the city lights sparkled around them and the stars watched silently from above, they stayed in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of a love that had found its forever home.

End of Flashback

They stood like that for a moment, the world around them dissolving into a blur of soft music, clinking glasses, and distant laughter. The holiday party, once a grand and bustling event that demanded their attention, now felt like nothing more than a faint backdrop. It was just the two of them in that moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of their shared presence. Orm felt her chest tighten as she looked into Lingling's eyes, seeing not just her partner but the culmination of seven years of growth, love, and unwavering commitment.

The years they had shared seemed to fold into one another, each holiday party a marker of their journey. From the awkward first conversation over ginger ale, to the tentative beginnings of something unspoken, to the night they had kissed under the stars, every memory converged here. This wasn't just another party—it was a living testament to how far they'd come, how much they had built together.

Lingling's thumb brushed gently over the back of Orm's hand, her touch grounding and tender. Orm smiled, her heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and affection so profound it nearly overwhelmed her.

Finally, Orm broke the silence, her tone playful but her eyes still soft. "So, are we going to make a scene on the dance floor tonight, or are you going to play it safe?"

Lingling's lips curved into a knowing smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Depends," she said, her voice low and teasing as she let her hand slip from Orm's waist to capture her hand instead. "Can you keep up, Princess?"

Orm rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the grin spreading across her face. "I think the real question is whether you can keep up with me."

Without another word, Lingling began leading her toward the center of the ballroom, weaving through the crowd with an easy confidence that Orm found both infuriating and irresistible. The room was awash with glittering lights, casting a warm, golden glow that seemed to blur the edges of reality.

When they reached the dance floor, Lingling turned to face Orm, her grip on her hand firm and steady. The music shifted into a smooth, romantic melody, and Lingling's other hand slid to Orm's waist, pulling her close.

"You're awfully bold tonight," Orm teased, though her voice betrayed a softness, her eyes never leaving Lingling's.

Lingling tilted her head, her smile softening into something more intimate. "You make it easy," she replied, echoing words she'd said once before, words that still held the same weight.

They began to sway together, their movements unhurried, as though the rest of the room had melted away again. Orm felt the familiar warmth of Lingling's hand at the small of her back, guiding her gently, while her other hand remained clasped in hers.

Seven years ago, they had been strangers in this very room. A chance conversation had lit a spark, a fragile thread of connection that neither of them could have anticipated would grow into this—a love that felt as steady as the ground beneath their feet.

Orm let herself relax into Lingling's hold, resting her forehead against hers. "You know," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the music, "I think we've come a long way since that first holiday party."

Lingling laughed softly, her breath warm against Orm's cheek. "You mean since the shy university freshman who barely said a word to me?"

"I wasn't shy," Orm protested, her pout undermined by the grin tugging at her lips.

Lingling pulled back just enough to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you absolutely were. But I thought it was cute."

Orm groaned, but the sound dissolved into laughter. "Fine. Maybe I was a little shy."

Lingling's smile turned tender as she pressed a soft kiss to Orm's forehead. "Look at you now," she said quietly. "The same girl who made me feel at ease that night, but stronger, bolder. I'm proud of you, Orm. For everything."

Orm's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Lingling's tone. She leaned into her, resting her cheek against Lingling's shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she admitted softly.

"Lucky for us," Lingling replied, her voice filled with quiet conviction, "we'd never have to find out."

They swayed together under the glittering lights, the weight of their love pressing gently around them, a cocoon of warmth and security. Lingling's hand never left Orm's, a silent promise woven into every touch. No matter where life took them, no matter what challenges lay ahead, this—they—would remain constant.

As the song ended and the applause rippled through the room, Orm pulled back just enough to meet Lingling's gaze. "Ready for the next seven years?" she asked, her grin playful but her eyes brimming with emotion.

Lingling laced her fingers tightly with Orm's, her smile radiant. "And every year after that."

They didn't leave the dance floor for the rest of the night, lost in each other and the shared certainty that, no matter what, they would always find their way back to this moment. To each other.