Rhea followed a few steps. "Ling, you don't have to act like I pushed you away completely."
Ling laughed softly, without humor. "You didn't push. I stepped back."
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes distant. Controlled. Detached.
"That's what you wanted, right?" Ling asked. "Control."
Rhea shook her head. "I wanted you to understand."
Ling nodded once. "I do. You're uncomfortable. So I removed myself."
"That's not understanding," Rhea said quietly. "That's punishment."
Ling's jaw tightened. "I don't punish."
She paused, then added, more honestly, "I disappear."
That landed harder.
Rhea's voice softened despite herself. "You don't have to disappear."
Ling finally looked at her eyes guarded, something wounded flickering underneath.
"You said you lose control around me," Ling said. "So I won't be close enough for that to happen."
Rhea took another step forward. "Ling—"
Ling raised a hand. Not aggressive. Just final.
"Boundary respected," she said. "Consider it done."
She turned away again, staring out the window like the view mattered more than the room, more than Rhea.
Ling broke the silence first.
"I think I should go," she said, still facing the window.
The words were flat, practical like a decision already made.
Rhea stiffened. "No."
Ling turned slowly. "Rhea—"
"I said no." Rhea crossed the room in two fast steps, planting herself between Ling and the window. "You're not leaving."
Ling blinked, caught off guard. "Why not?"
"Because you don't get to decide that alone," Rhea snapped. "You don't get to vanish every time things get uncomfortable."
Ling's mouth tightened. "I'm respecting what you asked."
"No, you're not," Rhea shot back. "You're running."
Ling scoffed. "Running would be staying and messing things up again."
"That's convenient," Rhea said bitterly. "You hurt me, then you punish yourself so I have to feel guilty for stopping you."
Ling's eyes flashed. "Don't twist this."
"I'm not twisting anything," Rhea replied. "You hear one thing and take it to the extreme. I asked for space, not absence."
Ling stepped closer now, frustration bleeding through her control. "You said you were scared of what happens when I'm close."
"Yes," Rhea said. "Not because I don't want you, because I do."
Ling froze.
Rhea continued, voice shaking despite herself. "You think leaving makes this better? You think watching you walk out again won't break something in me?"
Ling ran a hand through her hair. "Then what do you want from me?"
"I want you to stay," Rhea said immediately. "And not punish me for being honest."
Ling laughed once, sharp and tired. "You ask me to stay, but you don't want me near. You want softness without heat."
"That's not fair," Rhea said. "You don't get to define my limits for me."
Ling exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. "Every time I stay, I cross lines without meaning to. Every time I pull back, you feel abandoned. Tell me how to win here."
Rhea stepped closer, voice low now. "Stop deciding for me. Stop leaving first."
Ling looked at her really looked conflict etched deep across her face.
"If I stay," Ling said quietly, "I need to know you won't shove me away and then blame me for stepping back."
Rhea swallowed. "And if you leave," she said, "don't pretend it's for my good."
They stood inches apart, neither touching, both breathing unevenly.
Ling let out a sharp breath, the restraint finally cracking.
"You know what?" she said, voice low but cutting. "You're selfish."
Rhea's eyes widened.
"You want everything according to you," Ling continued, stepping forward despite herself, frustration spilling over.
"Stay — but don't come near."
"Be here — but don't look."
"Make you feel safe, make you happy — but only on your terms."
"That's not—"
"Let me finish," Ling snapped.
Rhea fell silent.
"You want me present but muted," Ling said. "Strong but harmless. Close enough to hold your fear, far enough that I don't affect you."
She laughed bitterly. "Do you know what that feels like?"
Rhea's throat tightened. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to," Ling replied. "You're comfortable but only if I'm the one adjusting. Only if I'm the one shrinking."
Rhea shook her head, anger and hurt mixing. "That's unfair."
"No," Ling said. "What's unfair is you asking me to stay while slowly pushing me out."
She turned away again, pacing now, unable to stand still.
"You want me here when you're scared," Ling went on. "You want my arms when you're shaking. You want my loyalty, my silence, my patience."
Ling stopped and looked at her directly.
"But you don't want my desire. You don't want my presence when it actually means something."
Rhea's voice broke. "I'm trying to protect myself."
"And I'm trying not to destroy you," Ling shot back. "But you're asking me to erase parts of myself like they're optional."
Silence stretched again, heavier this time.
Rhea spoke quietly. "I didn't know how to say it without losing you."
Ling's expression softened just a fraction not enough to erase the damage.
"And I don't know how to stay without losing myself," Ling replied.
Rhea stepped closer, hesitating. "I don't want you gone."
Ling closed her eyes briefly. "Then stop making me feel like I'm only acceptable in pieces."
Rhea swallowed hard. "I don't want pieces. I just— I'm scared."
Ling nodded slowly. "Then say that. Don't dress it up as rules that cut me out."
She moved back toward the window again.
Ling said. "I can't stay. Not like something you switch on and off."
Rhea stood frozen, realizing the argument wasn't about distance at all.
Ling's shoulders dropped, exhaustion settling in.
"I think you need space." she said quietly.
Rhea looked up sharply.
"I should go," Ling added, already moving. She reached the window and pushed it open.
That sound the slide of glass, the opening hit Rhea like a gunshot.
Her breath hitched violently.
"No—"
Ling turned just as Rhea moved.
Rhea crossed the room in a blur and slammed Ling back against the wall, hands gripping her hoodie hard, fingers shaking. Her control shattered completely.
"Don't leave," Rhea cried, voice breaking. "Please. Not now. Please, Ling—"
Ling froze, stunned.
Rhea's forehead pressed against Ling's chest as sobs tore out of her, uneven and raw. Her breathing went erratic, sharp inhales like she couldn't get enough air.
"I'll do anything," Rhea gasped. "Anything, I swear. I can change. I'll try harder. I can't lose you, please—"
Ling's heart clenched.
Rhea clutched her tighter, panic pouring out unchecked. "I can't go through that again. I can't. When you left before when you found out about the revenge, I thought I was done. I thought you were gone forever."
Her voice cracked completely.
"I still wake up thinking you left," Rhea sobbed. "That you decided I wasn't worth staying for. That I broke everything."
Ling's breath went shallow.
Rhea looked up at her, eyes wild with fear, tears streaking down her face. "Please don't make me relive that. Please don't walk away like that again."
Ling finally moved, hands coming up to steady Rhea, but she didn't pull her close afraid, now, of doing the wrong thing.
"Rhh__," Ling said softly.
"I didn't tell you," Rhea cried. "I didn't know how. I thought if I showed you how scared I am, you'd hate me for it."
Ling swallowed hard.
"When you open that window," Rhea whispered, shaking, "my body remembers everything. It feels like I'm being left again. Like I'm about to disappear."
Ling closed the window slowly.
The sound was gentle this time.
She rested her forehead against Rhea's, voice low and steady despite the storm in her chest. "I wasn't leaving to hurt you."
"I know," Rhea sobbed. "But my fear doesn't."
Ling nodded, finally understanding what this really was not control, not selfishness.
Trauma.
She stayed still, grounding her presence without pulling away, without pushing closer.
"I'm here," Ling said firmly. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."
Rhea collapsed against her, crying openly now, the fight gone, replaced by pure fear and relief tangled together.
Ling wrapped her arms around Rhea fully this time, pulling her up from the floor and into her chest. She tried to steady her breathing, tried to ground her, one hand firm between Rhea's shoulder blades, the other cradling the back.
"It's okay," Ling murmured. "Rhea, breathe. I'm here."
But Rhea didn't calm.
She cried harder.
Her fingers fisted into Ling's clothes, clinging like if she loosened her grip even for a second, Ling would vanish. Her body shook violently, sobs tearing out of her without control.
"Please," Rhea cried, voice breaking apart. "Please don't go. I'll do anything—anything you want."
Ling stiffened slightly.
Rhea pulled back just enough to speak, her face soaked, eyes red and desperate. "We can bathe together. Now. Not later. Whatever you say, I promise. I won't hesitate. I won't stop you."
Her words rushed out, panicked, unfiltered.
"Just don't leave," she sobbed. "Not now. I can't do this again."
She pressed her face back into Ling's chest, arms tightening even more, as if trying to fuse herself there. "I swear, Ling. I'll do everything right. I won't push you away. I won't change my mind. Just—please—stay."
Ling's heart twisted painfully.
This was terror.
Ling gently but firmly cupped Rhea's face, lifting it so she had to look at her. Rhea's breathing was uneven, chest hitching, eyes glassy with fear.
"Stop," Ling said softly, but with weight. "Don't promise yourself away like that."
Rhea shook her head frantically. "I mean it. I do. I'm not lying."
"I know," Ling replied, voice low. "That's why I'm stopping you."
She pulled Rhea back into her arms, holding her tighter now, not possessive protective. Ling's chin rested against Rhea's head as she spoke slowly, deliberately.
"I'm not staying because you'll give me things," Ling said. "I'm staying because I choose to."
Rhea cried into her shoulder, still shaking, but the grip loosened just a fraction.
"You don't need to earn me," Ling continued. "And you don't need to panic to keep me."
Rhea whispered, broken, "Then why does it feel like I'm losing you every time you step back?"
Ling closed her eyes briefly.
"Because you were left when it mattered," she said. "And your body learned fear before your heart learned safety."
She held Rhea there, unmoving, letting her cry it out without conditions, without demands.
"I'm here," Ling repeated, steady as an anchor. "I'm not leaving tonight."
Rhea's sobs slowly softened, though her arms stayed wrapped tight not bargaining anymore, just holding on.
Ling lifted Rhea carefully, as if afraid any sudden movement might shatter her again. She carried her to the bed and sat back against the headboard, pulling Rhea with her, settling her between her legs. The blanket came up around them instinctively, enclosing them in warmth and quiet.
Ling's arms wrapped around Rhea fully this time firm, steady, undeniable.