When it all falls apart

Their condo was a mess, papers scattered, unopened food containers on the table, and Orm herself, sitting on the floor like a ghost of the person she used to be. The letter from Lingling was still clutched in her trembling hands, her tears staining the ink.

Koy stood at the doorway, watching her daughter break apart. She sighed, her heart aching for Orm. She had seen grief before, but nothing compared to the devastation in Orm's eyes.

Without a word, Koy stepped forward and knelt beside her, gently pulling her into a hug. Orm didn't resist. She buried her face into her mother's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I can't do this, Mom," Orm whispered between gasping breaths. "What if I lose her? What if she never wakes up?"

Koy tightened her embrace, rubbing soothing circles on Orm's back. "What if she's fighting, Orm? And you're not there?"

Orm tensed, her mother's words cutting through her despair.

"Your wife needs you," Koy continued. "What if she reaches for you and finds nothing?"

Orm shook her head, her body trembling. "I'm scared, Mom. I don't know how to live without her."

Koy gently cupped her daughter's face, forcing her to meet her gaze. "Then don't let her fight alone."

Orm's tears kept falling, but something inside her shifted. A small flicker of hope.

"Your father is downstairs. He'll take you to the hospital," Koy said softly. "I'll stay here and take care of Mochi. But you need to go. You need to be with her."

Orm sniffled, hesitating for a moment before nodding. Koy wiped the tears from her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Go to your wife, Orm."

Orm stood, her legs unsteady. She grabbed Lingling's journal and the letter, holding them close as if they were a part of Lingling herself. Then, without another word, she left.

At the Hospital

The beeping of machines filled the sterile hospital room. The air smelled of antiseptic, too clean, too cold. But none of that mattered to Orm.

Lingling lay still on the hospital bed, her face pale, her breathing slow but steady. Tubes and wires surrounded her, a cruel reminder of how fragile life was.

Orm swallowed the lump in her throat and took slow steps toward the bed.

She lowered herself into the chair beside Lingling and reached for her hand. It was warm, but unresponsive. Orm held it tightly, bringing it to her lips.

"Hey, baby," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm here."

She took a shaky breath, pressing Lingling's hand against her cheek.

"I read your letter," she continued. "You told me not to give up on you. So I won't. But you have to fight, Ling. You have to come back to me."

Orm brushed a few strands of hair from Lingling's face, her fingers lingering on her soft skin.

"I don't care if fate is cruel," she said, her voice firm despite the tears rolling down her face. "I will fight fate itself if I have to. But you have to meet me halfway, love. Please."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lingling's forehead, her lips lingering as if she could will her back to life.

"Come back to me, my love. I can't do this without you."

And for the first time in weeks, Orm let herself hope.

__________

A faint pressure. A warmth against her palm.

Lingling felt it before she even opened her eyes—the familiar presence, the scent of someone she knew, someone she loved. It was comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket after standing in the cold for too long.

Then, a voice. Shaky, desperate, filled with something she couldn't yet understand.

"Ling... baby, can you hear me? Please..."

The voice. It was Orm.

Lingling's fingers twitched, gripping something soft and warm—Orm's hand.

Orm gasped. "Dad! Doctor! She moved! She just squeezed my hand!"

The urgency in her voice sent the hospital into motion. Within seconds, the door burst open, and doctors and nurses rushed in, checking the machines, flashing lights into Lingling's barely opened eyes, adjusting her IV.

Orm refused to let go of her.

Lingling's eyelids fluttered, her body feeling heavy, her vision blurry. She tried to focus on the voice, on the warmth anchoring her down.

Then, slowly—painfully—she opened her eyes.

The bright lights above her made her wince. The sounds around her felt too loud. But there was something more important, something she needed to see.

She turned her head slightly.

And there she was.

Orm.

Tears streamed down Orm's face as she let out a laugh—a broken, relieved laugh—as if she had been drowning for weeks and had finally surfaced.

"Oh my God..." Orm sobbed, gripping Lingling's hand tighter. "You're awake... you're really awake..."

Lingling's throat was dry. She wanted to speak, but only a weak whisper came out. "O... Orm?"

Orm let out a choked sob. She nodded quickly, pressing Lingling's hand against her cheek. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here."

The doctor, standing at the other side of the bed, spoke gently. "Lingling, you've been in a coma for almost three weeks. Can you try to blink twice if you understand me?"

Lingling's gaze never left Orm, but she obeyed, blinking twice.

The doctor smiled. "That's good. Your body has been through a lot, but you're stable. We'll need to monitor you closely for the next few days, but for now, let's just take it slow."

Lingling barely heard any of it. She just wanted to feel Orm's warmth, to know this wasn't another dream.

The doctor and nurses continued their examination, checking her reflexes, monitoring her vitals. But Orm never let go of her.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medical staff gave Orm a reassuring nod before stepping back.

"She's responding well," the doctor said. "Give her some time. She'll need a lot of rest, but she's going to be okay."

As the doctors left the room, Orm gently sat on the edge of the bed, her hands cradling Lingling's face.

"You scared the hell out of me, baby," she whispered.

Lingling's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to apologize, but Orm shook her head. "No. Don't say anything. Just—just stay with me, okay?"

Lingling slowly, weakly, nodded.

Orm exhaled shakily and pressed a soft kiss to Lingling's forehead.

"I thought I lost you," she admitted, her voice cracking.

Lingling's tired eyes searched Orm's face, taking in her dark circles, the weight of exhaustion in her features. She tried to lift her hand to wipe away Orm's tears, but her strength failed her.

Orm caught her hand before it fell, bringing it to her lips.

"Rest, my love," Orm murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lingling blinked slowly. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye as she finally let herself slip into the comfort of sleep—this time, knowing Orm would be there when she woke up.