Evening settled slowly over the Kwong mansion, the sky bleeding into shades of grey and blue that matched Ling's mood too well.
Ling had just come back, coat still on, hair slightly loosened from the day. The house reacted to her arrival the way it always did now—staff straightening unconsciously, footsteps softening, voices lowering. She ignored it, handing her keys to the side table and moving toward the living room.
Rina was already there, sprawled dramatically across the couch, phone abandoned, boredom written across her face.
She looked up the second Ling entered.
"Oh my God," Rina said, sitting up abruptly. "You're alive."
Ling glanced at her. "Disappointing?"
Rina rolled her eyes. "Very. I was hoping for a dramatic collapse."
Ling took off her glasses and placed them carefully on the table. "You'll have to wait."
Rina studied her for a moment, then frowned. "You look… wound tight."
Ling didn't answer.
Rina stood. "That's it. We're going out."
Ling raised an eyebrow. "Where?"
"Anywhere that isn't this house," Rina said immediately. "It's been so long. You disappear, you come back half-dead, you scare students—"
"I don't scare them," Ling said flatly.
Rina snorted. "You traumatize them."
Ling exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "I'm not in the mood."
"That's exactly why," Rina replied. "Come on. Just for a bit."
Ling hesitated.
The hesitation didn't go unnoticed.
Rina softened her tone. "Ling. You can't lock yourself back inside your head again. Not now."
Ling looked away.
A few seconds passed.
Then she nodded once. "Okay."
Rina's face lit up instantly. "Really?"
"Yes," Ling said. "But no crowds."
"No clubs," Rina agreed quickly. "Just… driving. Food. Normal human activities."
Ling gave her a look. "You're bad at those."
Rina grinned. "That's why you're coming."
They left not long after, slipping into the car without announcement. The city unfolded around them—lights flickering on, traffic humming, life moving forward without waiting for anyone's grief.
Rina drove, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly to music playing low.
"So," Rina said casually, too casually, "first day."
Ling leaned back against the seat. "It was fine."
"That's never true," Rina replied. "Which part was violent?"
Ling glanced at her. "You're assuming."
Rina smirked. "I know you."
Ling looked out the window. "Some students tested boundaries."
"And?" Rina prompted.
"They learned," Ling said simply.
Rina laughed softly. "God help them."
They stopped at a quiet place overlooking the city—an old overlook road where lights stretched endlessly below like something unreachable. Rina killed the engine.
They sat there for a moment in silence.
Rina broke it first. "You're really staying, aren't you?"
"Yes," Ling said.
"For good?"
Ling didn't answer immediately. Her jaw tightened. "For now."
Rina nodded, accepting it. "You picked medical university."
"Yes."
Rina's voice dropped slightly. "You sure that's not… dangerous?"
Ling's fingers curled faintly against her coat sleeve. "It's controlled."
Rina looked at her. "You always say that right before something explodes."
Ling almost smiled.
Almost.
"I can handle it," Ling said.
Rina studied her face in the dim light. "You don't have to prove strength to anyone anymore."
Ling's gaze flickered—something raw passing through too fast to catch.
"I'm not proving anything," she said quietly. "I'm surviving."
They sat again in silence, city lights reflecting in the windshield.
After a while, Rina spoke, gentler now. "You know… being out like this doesn't mean you're betraying anything."
Ling didn't ask what she meant.
"I know," Ling said.
But the truth sat heavy between them.
Because even as Ling sat there, breathing night air, pretending at normal—
Somewhere else, another woman was doing the same.
And the space between them wasn't as wide as Ling wanted to believe.
Rina restarted the car. "Food?"
Ling nodded. "Food."
They drove off, unaware that the quiet evening was only a pause—
Not an ending.
The Nior mansion had settled into its evening rhythm—lights warm, corridors quiet, the kind of calm that came only after everyone pretended the day hadn't been heavy.
Rhea sat on the edge of her bed, notebook open but unread. Amaya's soft breathing drifted from the adjoining room where she had finally fallen asleep. Rhea hadn't moved since then. She rarely did once the house went quiet.
There was a knock.
"Rhea?" Shyra's voice came through the door. "Can I come in?"
Rhea closed the notebook and stood. "Yes."
Shyra entered slowly, leaning against the doorframe for a moment as if measuring her words. She looked tired—but determined in the way only an older sister could be.
"You never go out anymore," Shyra said plainly.
Rhea didn't deny it. She just shrugged. "There's nothing outside."
Shyra exhaled, crossed the room, and sat on the chair near the window. "That's not true. There's just nothing you want to face."
Rhea's jaw tightened slightly. "I'm fine here."
Shyra tilted her head. "You said the same thing months ago."
Silence followed.
Shyra softened her tone. "Rhea… I didn't come back just because my life collapsed. I came because I was worried about yours too."
Rhea looked away. "You didn't need to."
"I did," Shyra said firmly. "Because I know what you look like when you're pretending."
Rhea let out a slow breath. "What do you want, Shyra?"
Shyra stood. Walked closer. "Come out with me."
Rhea blinked. "Where?"
"Anywhere," Shyra replied. "A drive. Tea. A park. Somewhere that isn't these walls."
Rhea shook her head almost immediately. "I don't feel like it."
Shyra crossed her arms. "You never do anymore."
"That doesn't mean I should force it."
"I'm not asking you to force happiness," Shyra said. "I'm asking you to breathe."
Rhea's voice dropped. "I breathe just fine."
Shyra stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You breathe like someone waiting for the next impact."
That landed.
Rhea didn't respond.
Shyra sighed. "Amaya adores you. She laughs when you smile. And today—" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "—today was the first time I saw you smile without pain behind it."
Rhea swallowed. "That was for her."
"That's enough," Shyra said gently. "Start there."
She reached out, placing her hand over Rhea's. "Let me take you out. Just us. No pressure. No questions."
Rhea hesitated.
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the door. Toward the rest of the house. Toward everything she avoided.
Then she nodded.
"Okay," Rhea said quietly.
Shyra smiled—small, relieved. "Get ready. I'll tell mom we're stepping out."
Rhea stiffened. "She won't like it."
Shyra shrugged. "She doesn't have to."
Twenty minutes later, Rhea walked out of the mansion beside her sister, the night air cool against her skin. The gate closed behind them with a soft clang.
They got into the car.
Shyra started the engine. "See? You didn't break."
Rhea looked out the window. "Give it time."
Shyra glanced at her. "You're allowed to exist outside your pain."
Rhea didn't answer.
The car moved forward, lights stretching ahead of them.
Rhea rested her head lightly against the seat, eyes half-closed—not relaxed, but not resisting either.
For the first time in a long while—
She went somewhere not because she was running.
But because someone asked her to stay present.