University Football Ground > Afternoon
Ling Kwong stepped onto the field like nothing had happened.
That was the lie.
His body was flawless. His face unreadable. His posture sharp enough to cut. If anyone looked closely, they'd notice the tension in his shoulders, too tight, too contained, like something inside him was trying to break bone.
The crowd went insane anyway.
They always did.
Ling didn't look at the stands.
He couldn't afford to.
The whistle blew.
He moved.
And God, he was brutal.
Ling didn't just play football. He dominated it. Every run was precise, every pass lethal. He tore through defenders like they were obstacles, not people. He didn't miss. He never did.
Because missing meant thinking.
And thinking meant last night.
The elevator doors.
The silence.
The sound of Rhea's breath breaking into panic.
The warmth of Rhea in his arms.
Ling intercepted the ball, sprinted, scored.
The roar shook the stadium.
Rhea sat rigid on the bleachers, spine straight, eyes fixed anywhere but the field. Sunglasses hid nothing, not the tight jaw, not the pulse beating at her throat.
Don't look, she ordered herself.
Ling wiped sweat from his face, lifting his jersey for half a second.
The crowd lost its mind.
Rhea didn't move.
But her fingers curled slowly into her palm.
Ling felt it.
That pull.
That awareness.
He glanced up just once and there she was.
Still. Regal. Refusing him.
Something sharp twisted in Ling's chest.
He crushed it instantly.
Irrelevant.
He played harder.
Faster.
Like he was trying to outrun the memory of Rhea curled unconscious in his bed. Like he could erase the weight of Rhea's body in his arms. Like he could undo the way his own hands had shaken, first time, when the doctor said, She'll be fine.
Goal.
Another.
Another.
Ling Kwong didn't lose.
Ever.
But this wasn't winning.
This was control under siege.
From the stands, Rhea finally stood, smoothing her dress, pride snapping back into place.
"This is nothing," she murmured to herself. "He's nothing."
She turned to leave.
On the field, Ling scored the final goal, flawless, absolute, and the crowd erupted.
Ling didn't celebrate.
His eyes were already searching the stands.
Rhea was gone.
Something inside Ling cracked, quiet, dangerous.
He clenched his jaw, swallowing it whole.
You don't feel, he told himself.
You don't fall.
You don't need.
But denial doesn't erase impact.
And Ling Kwong had already been hit.
And Mira saw it before anyone else did.
Not the goals. Not the flawless control. Not the crowd screaming Ling Kwong's name like a prayer.
She saw the pause.
That fraction of a second after the final whistle when Ling didn't immediately turn toward his usual exit. When his eyes scanned the stands instead.
Searching.
Mira's fingers tightened around her phone.
Ling had never searched for anyone.
The realization settled in Mira's chest like poison.
>>>>>>>
Outside the Private Changing Room
Ling emerged moments later, towel around his neck, expression carved back into ice. Jian and Rowen trailed behind him, laughing too loudly, trying too hard to pretend nothing was wrong.
Mira stepped into Ling's path.
"Nice game," she said sweetly. "As usual."
Ling didn't slow. "Move."
Mira walked with him. "You didn't let me in last night."
Ling stopped.
Slowly, he turned. His gaze was lethal. "That's your fault."
Mira smiled brittle. "The party ended early. People noticed."
Ling leaned closer, voice low. "People should learn to mind their place."
Mira swallowed. She hesitated, then crossed the line.
"He was in your arms at morning," she said lightly.
Something dark flashed across Ling's face.
"Who told you?"
Mira shrugged. "Everyone in family knows that, the way you both were fighting."
Ling stepped closer, too close. "You weren't there."
"No," Mira said softly. "But I could've been."
Ling's jaw tightened. "Say what you want."
Mira said nothing.
That evening, Mira found Rhea near the humanities building, alone, phone in hand, expression unreadable as ever.
Perfect.
"Rhea," Mira called sweetly.
"Ah," Rhea said flatly. "The friend is doing a lot of work there."
Mira ignored the jab. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay after last night."
"I don't need checking," Rhea replied. "Especially not from you."
Mira stepped closer anyway. "You shouldn't get used to Ling's kindness."
Rhea's eyes sharpened. "I didn't ask for it."
Mira leaned in, lowering her voice. "He breaks easily when people get too close. You wouldn't want to be the reason."
Rhea smiled then, slow, dangerous.
"You're threatened," Rhea said. "How embarrassing."
Mira's composure cracked. "He doesn't fall for girls like you."
Rhea tilted her head. "He already did."
The words landed like a slap.
Mira recoiled, then hardened.
"You fainted. You ran. You're nothing but a distraction." Mira hissed.
Rhea stepped forward, eyes cold flame. "Then why are you shaking?"
Mira stared at her, breathing hard, and in that moment, she made the mistake that would destroy her.
She smiled.
"You know," Mira said casually, "elevators malfunction more often than people think."
Rhea's face went still.
Dead still.
"Say that again," Rhea whispered.
Mira turned to leave. "Just friendly advice."
She didn't see Ling until it was too late.
Ling stood at the end of the corridor.
Had heard everything.
His expression wasn't angry.
It was something far worse.
Rhea smirked and went.
The air was still.
Too still.
Mira turned slowly.
Ling Kwong stood there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, hands relaxed at his sides.
That was what terrified people the most.
"Ling," Mira said, forcing a laugh, wiping at her eyes quickly. "You... you heard wrong. I was just..."
"You knew," Ling said quietly.
Two words.
They hit harder than shouting.
Mira's breath hitched. "Ling, listen..."
"You knew the elevator was faulty," Ling continued, voice even, controlled, lethal. "And you told Jian to suggest it to her."
Jian's name fell like a verdict.
Mira's knees weakened. "I didn't push her," she blurted. "I just... I thought..."
"You thought she'd be scared," Ling said. "Humiliated. Small."
His eyes lifted. Dark. Focused.
"And you were fine if that killed her."
Mira started crying then. Real tears. Ugly. Desperate.
"Why do you care?" she sobbed. "Why do you care about her so much?"
Students passing nearby slowed unconsciously. No one dared come closer.
"You're my childhood friend," Mira cried. "I've always been there. Always. Everyone knows."
Mira shook her head violently. "Mom she will never accept Rhea. Never. Mom hates girls like her. You know that. She'll ruin her."
Ling stopped inches from Mira's face.
"You don't get to threaten me with my own house," he said softly.
"My mother," Ling said calmly, "does not decide who I breathe for."
Mira grabbed Ling's arm. "Does she matter so much? Tell me. Just tell me."
Ling didn't pull away.
He looked down at Mira's hand... then back into her face.
"I don't care," Ling said.
The lie was perfect.
And Mira knew it.
"Liar," Mira whispered.
Ling leaned closer, voice low enough that only Mira could hear.
"You endangered what is mine," Ling said. "That's all you need to understand."
Mira froze.
"What... what do you mean yours?"
Ling straightened, mask snapping fully back into place.
"You're done," he said. "With her. With me."
Mira's knees weakened. "I just thought..."
Ling took one step forward.
"I didn't ask what you thought."
Tears spilled freely now. Mira shook her head, voice breaking. "I know you. I belong there."
Ling's jaw tightened.
"You're confusing access with entitlement," he said.
Mira laughed through tears, hysterical. "Your mother already sees me as her daughter-in-law. Aunt loves me. She'll never accept Rhea. Never. You know that."
Silence.
Ling didn't deny it.
But his eyes were dark, distant, fixed on something Mira could never touch.
"You don't get to decide who matters to me," Ling said quietly.
Mira stepped closer, desperation bleeding through her composure. "I did it because I was scared. Because you're slipping. Because you don't look at me anymore. Because I love you."
The word hit the air.
Ling flinched, not from emotion, but from discomfort.
"Mira," he said flatly, "your obsession is not love."
Mira froze.
"I won't punish you for wanting me," Ling continued. "I won't ruin you for feelings you didn't choose."
Mira's eyes lit with hope.
"But," Ling added, voice dropping, "you crossed a line when you used her fear."
Hope died instantly.
"You will stay away from Rhea," Ling said. "You will not speak to her. You will not breathe in her direction. And you will never use my name to justify your jealousy again."
Mira sobbed. "You're choosing her."
Ling looked away.
"I'm choosing control," he said. "Something you lost."
He turned to leave.
At the door, he paused, not for Mira, but for himself.
"And Mira?" Ling said without looking back. "My mother's approval has never decided my life."
The door closed.
Mira slid to the floor, shaking.