Eliza knew. She saw it in the pauses, the silences, the way Ling's control slipped only where Rhea was concerned. Obsession disguised as hatred. Attachment masquerading as cruelty.
Dangerous.
If Ling married Mira while still entangled like this—
Eliza stopped that thought.
One step at a time.
For now, silence was strategy.
She would not speak to Victor yet.
She would not speak to Dadi again tonight.
And she would certainly not speak to Ling.
Instead, she would watch.
Watch Ling at the university.
Watch how far the cruelty went.
Watch how much of it was armor and how much was desperation.
And watch Rhea—how long she lasted under the pressure before something broke.
Eliza leaned back, closing her eyes again.
"Soon," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "When the time is right."
The moonlight shifted slightly on the floor.
Outside, the night remained calm.
Inside the mansion, fate was being arranged in silence—
piece by piece,
name by name,
while Ling Kwong slept, unaware that her life was already being narrowed to one unavoidable path.
Next day.
The university café was unusually loud.
Cutlery clinked, chairs scraped, laughter rose and fell in careless waves. The smell of coffee hung thick in the air, mixed with fried food and sugar. For everyone else, it was just another ordinary break between classes.
For Rhea, it felt suffocating.
She sat alone at a corner table, shoulders slightly hunched, fingers wrapped tightly around a paper cup she hadn't even sipped from. Her notebook lay open in front of her, but the words blurred together. Her mind wasn't in the lecture. It wasn't even in the café.
It was stuck somewhere between humiliation and exhaustion.
Her wrists still ached faintly from yesterday. Her eyes felt heavy, swollen from crying she refused to acknowledge. She told herself—I'm fine. I don't care. The lie was practiced, smooth, constant.
Footsteps stopped near her table.
"Hey."
Rhea didn't look up.
She already knew who it was.
The same boy.
The one from the party.
The one who thought persistence was charming.
"I said hey," he repeated, louder this time, pulling a chair back without asking and sitting across from her.
Rhea's jaw tightened.
"I'm busy," she said flatly, eyes still on the notebook.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, grinning. "You've been busy every time I see you. You don't even drink your coffee."
"Then stop watching me," she snapped, finally looking up.
For a split second, her eyes flashed sharp and warning. But the boy only chuckled, clearly mistaking irritation for interest.
"Why so angry?" he said lightly. "You were quieter before. Guess university's rough, huh?"
Rhea closed her notebook slowly, deliberately.
"Get up," she said. "And leave."
Instead of standing, he smirked.
"Wow. Touchy. Is this because of yesterday?" he asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Everyone saw it, you know. Kinda intense. Never seen someone get torn apart like that in class."
Her fingers curled into fists under the table.
"I said leave," she repeated, voice tight now.
He ignored it.
"You should loosen up," he continued. "People are talking anyway. Might as well—"
Rhea stood up abruptly, chair screeching loudly against the floor. Several heads turned.
"Don't talk about things you don't understand," she said, her voice low but shaking. "And don't talk to me. Ever."
For a moment, the boy looked annoyed—his ego bruised. Then his lips curved into something uglier.
"Relax," he scoffed. "I'm just trying to be nice. You think you're special or something?"
Rhea swallowed.
Her chest felt tight. Too tight.
She grabbed her notebook and bag, turning to leave—but he stood too, blocking her path deliberately.
"What's the rush?" he said. "Afraid someone will scold you again?"
That did it.
Her breath hitched. Her vision blurred, heat rushing behind her eyes. The café noise faded into a dull hum as memories slammed into her—raised voices, torn paper, eyes watching her break.
"Move," she whispered.
He didn't.
Instead, he laughed softly. "You're really sensitive. Guess that's why she crushed you so easily."
Rhea shoved past him hard.
The contact wasn't violent, but it was enough to make him stumble back a step. Gasps rippled through the nearby tables. She didn't look at anyone. She didn't care.
She walked out of the café fast—too fast—heart pounding, breath uneven.
Only when she reached the corridor outside did she stop, pressing her back against the wall.
Her hands shook.
Tears burned, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not again. She tilted her head back slightly, blinking rapidly, forcing herself to breathe.
I don't care, she told herself again.
I hate her. I hate all of this.
The lie tasted bitter.
Somewhere behind her, the café doors swung open and closed again, laughter resuming as if nothing had happened.
But Rhea slid slowly down the wall until she was crouched, hugging her notebook to her chest like armor—silent, shaking, and utterly alone.