The Memory Between Us I LingOrm

The villa was silent.
Too silent.

Orm stood in the living room with a blanket draped over her shoulders, a half-empty mug of cold tea in her hands. It had been three weeks since the wedding, and in that time, she'd seen Ling only four times.

Each visit had lasted less than ten minutes.

Ling always returned late, if at all—stiff in her suit, unreadable in her face, and gone before breakfast.

The master bedroom remained untouched. Her toothbrush in the bathroom hadn't even been unwrapped.

The only signs of life came from the maids—and sometimes, that was a blessing.

"Madam Orm, are you eating air again?" Tim said, hands on her hips, peering into the untouched bowl of rice on the table.

Nam chimed in from behind her, holding a ladle like a weapon. "If you skip one more meal, I'll report you to Auntie Kwong myself."

Orm blinked at them.

Tim and Nam were impossible to ignore. Loud, dramatic, always bickering—and somehow, exactly what the house needed.

"I'm just not hungry," Orm mumbled.

"You're grieving, not on a diet," Nam said.

Tim sighed and nudged her shoulder playfully. "At least let me make your favorite tom yum. I'll put in less chili this time."

"You said that last time, and I cried."

Tim smirked. "Character building."

Ling, meanwhile, buried herself in work. Board meetings. Hotel inspections. Press interviews.

If she wasn't at the Kwong International Holdings, she was in her penthouse—walls lined with old photos of her and Kate, still untouched.

She couldn't sleep in the villa. Couldn't stand the scent of jasmine from the curtains Ying once loved.

Couldn't look at Orm's tired eyes without remembering the promise she failed to protect.

So she stayed away.

At the mansion, Mr. and Mrs. Kwong weren't blind.

"She's avoiding home again?" Mr. Kwong asked, setting down his newspaper. "It's been four nights."

Mrs. Kwong nodded, her face lined with quiet sadness. "And Orm's pretending to be fine."

"She always does."

The elder Kwong sighed and looked at a wedding photo still displayed near the fireplace. The smiles were polished, but the eyes had been hollow.

"Maybe this was too much to ask of them," he said softly.