Rowen broke the silence first, trying to lighten it poorly.
"Women," he scoffed. "Too complicated. One moment you're apologizing, next moment you're apparently committing emotional crimes."
Rina shot him a look. "Watch your mouth."
Rowen lifted his hands. "What? I'm just saying—"
Rina cut in sharply. "Ling is a woman too."
Rowen paused, frowning, glancing at Ling sideways. "She's… different."
Ling didn't react immediately.
They kept walking.
Rowen continued, more carefully now. "I meant—Rhea. I mean… all women. Complicated."
Ling finally spoke.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "They are."
Rina stopped walking.
She turned to Ling slowly. "You didn't even ask what she meant."
Ling halted too.
Her eyes were distant, jaw clenched, pride stitched tight over something unstable.
"She wanted space," Ling said. "I gave it."
Rina studied her. "You assumed."
Ling's gaze hardened. "I don't assume. I decide."
Rowen scratched the back of his neck, uneasy. "She didn't look like someone overwhelmed by gifts."
Ling snapped a glare at him. "Then what did she look like?"
Rowen hesitated. "Like someone mourning."
Silence dropped.
Ling scoffed immediately, sharp and defensive. "For letters?"
"No," Rina said quietly. "For something else."
Ling turned away, dismissive. "You're reading too much into it."
But her steps slowed.
Her fingers curled slightly inside her pockets.
The campus buzzed around them students, laughter, movement but Ling was locked inside her own irritation, pacing faster than the rest, boots striking stone with sharp rhythm.
She scoffed suddenly, breaking the silence.
"I swear," Ling said, voice edged with mockery, "I don't even know what women want sometimes."
Rina glanced sideways. "You're talking like you're not one."
Ling ignored that.
"One moment she tells me to leave," Ling continued, hands moving now, frustration leaking.
"The next she grabs me like I'm not allowed to go anywhere. One day she cries over my writing—" her jaw tightened "—the other she orders me not to stop writing like it's some kind of command."
She laughed once, humorless. "What is that?"
Rowen let out a low whistle. "Sounds like emotional whiplash."
Jian nodded slowly. "Contradictions. Too many signals."
Ling pointed at him. "Exactly."
Rowen jumped in, warming to the topic. "See, this is what I'm saying. One day you're the villain, next day you're the lifeline. How are we supposed to decode that?"
Rina shot him a look. "You're not supposed to decode. You're supposed to listen."
Ling stopped walking abruptly.
They all halted.
"Listen to what?" Ling asked, incredulous. "She didn't say anything useful."
Rina folded her arms. "She said plenty. You just didn't like the meaning."
Ling's eyes flashed. "No. She accused me of things without explaining. That's not communication."
Jian hesitated, then spoke carefully. "She said you made a wrong guess."
Ling waved a dismissive hand. "Because I apologized."
Rowen frowned. "That's the weird part. People don't usually get angrier when you apologize."
Ling turned on him sharply. "Unless they're impossible."
Rina sighed. "Or unless the apology was for the wrong crime."
Ling stiffened. "Crime?"
Rina met her gaze. "You thought she was crying because of your gifts. You treated it like irritation. Maybe she was crying because something was taken from her."
Ling scoffed. "Taken? I gave her things."
Rowen muttered, "Yeah… but then you took them away."
Ling snapped back instantly. "Because she didn't want them."
Jian spoke up, voice low. "Did she say that?"
Ling opened her mouth then closed it.
"She said she hated me," Ling said instead.
Rina tilted her head. "And you believed that part."
Ling exhaled sharply. "She pinned me to a locker."
Rowen raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly indifference."
Ling shot him a glare. "Don't start romanticizing violence."
"I'm not," Rowen replied. "I'm saying people don't lose control like that over things they don't care about."
Ling resumed walking, faster now, irritation masking something else — something unsettled.
"I'm tired of this," she muttered. "I don't play guessing games."
Rina followed closely. "You play power games."
Ling stopped again.
Slowly, she turned.
"Power," Ling said coolly, "is the only language that's ever been consistent."
Rina held her gaze. "Except with her."
Silence stretched.
Jian broke it softly. "She told you not to stop writing."
Ling's fingers twitched.
Rowen added, quieter now, "People don't say that unless those words mean something they're afraid to lose."
Ling's jaw clenched.
"She ordered me," Ling said. "I don't like being ordered."
Rina stepped closer. "You like being needed."
Ling looked away.
"That's different."
Rowen muttered under his breath, "Not really."
Ling snapped, "Enough."
They fell silent again.
But the air had changed.
Ling's earlier confidence had cracked not enough to show guilt, not enough to admit fault but enough to leave a question lodged under her skin.
She didn't say it aloud.
She didn't slow down.
But the thought followed her, unwanted and persistent:
What if Rhea wasn't rejecting the words…
What if she was grieving them?
Ling shoved her hands deeper into her pockets, jaw set hard.
"No," she said to no one. "Women are just complicated."
Rina watched her closely, thinking something very different.
And somewhere else on campus, ashes still smoldered in Rhea's memory — while Ling walked away convinced she had done the reasonable thing.
Rowen burst out laughing, the sound sharp and careless.
"Kwong," he said between laughs, "you're trapped."
Ling scoffed immediately. She lifted a hand and scratched roughly at her scalp, irritation visible, control thinning just enough to show.
"Literally," Ling said coldly, "I hate women. No one can undo me."
She said it like a verdict. Like law.
Jian glanced at her sideways, expression unreadable, then spoke slowly deliberately.
"People say a woman can destroy a king."
Ling's lips curled. "Fairytale nonsense."
Jian didn't smile. "Then what does that make you, if she can do this to you?"
Ling stopped walking.
Rowen turned, sensing something entertaining. "Yeah," he added, amused. "If she can wreck a king… then for Ling Kwong?"
Jian finished it calmly. "A devil."
Rowen laughed louder. "Damn."
Ling exhaled through her nose, sharp and dismissive. "You both dramatize too much."
Rina didn't laugh.
She watched Ling carefully the stiff shoulders, the clenched jaw, the way Ling's fingers kept flexing like she was trying to shake something off.
"A devil doesn't get confused," Rina said quietly.
Ling shot her a glare. "I'm not confused."
Rina didn't back down. "Then why are you talking this much?"
Silence cut through the group.
Rowen coughed awkwardly. "Okay, okay. No psychoanalysis before lunch."
Ling resumed walking abruptly. "Drop it."
But Jian lingered half a step behind her and said, almost casually:
"You threw away things you stayed awake all night for."
Ling stopped again slower this time.
"That was nothing," she said. "Words."
Jian nodded. "Words she cried over."
Ling turned sharply. "She cried because she hates me."
Rowen muttered, "That's not usually why people cry like that."
Ling snapped, "Enough."
Her voice echoed slightly too loud for a casual corridor.
Students nearby looked away.
Ling straightened her jacket, restoring composure piece by piece, authority settling back over her like armor.
"This conversation is over," she said. "I don't need decoding. I don't need forgiveness. I don't need—"
She stopped herself.
Rina caught it.
"You don't need what?" Rina asked softly.
Ling didn't answer.
She walked ahead, faster now, leaving the question hanging behind her like a crack she refused to seal.
Rowen watched her go, grin fading just a little. "For someone who says she's not undone…"
Jian finished quietly, "She's bleeding."
Rina said nothing.
She just followed Ling knowing something irreversible had already been set in motion.
They reached near the back of the sports building, the noise of campus dull around them.
Ling leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight pretending she wasn't replaying Rhea's face over and over.
Rowen broke the silence first, rocking on his heels.
"Okay. Let's diagnose the disaster."
Rina glanced at Ling. "Simple. She didn't like the gifts."
Ling scoffed instantly. "Impossible."
Rina raised a brow. "Not everyone wants grand gestures, Ling. Some people panic when things get too… loud."
Jian tilted his head thoughtfully. "Or," he added, "it's what you wrote."
Ling's eyes snapped to him. "What's wrong with what I wrote?"
Jian didn't answer immediately. He chose his words carefully.
"You didn't write casually. You wrote like someone who wasn't planning to stop."
Ling's fingers tightened unconsciously.
Rowen snapped his fingers. "Or maybe—"
He grinned, careless. "—something you said earlier. I mean, you do have a talent for saying things that are dir—"
He paused.
Because Ling's glare cut through him like a blade.
"Finish that sentence," Ling said calmly.
Rowen swallowed. "—that… uh… land badly."
Rina shot Rowen a warning look. "Don't be stupid."
Rowen raised his hands defensively. "I didn't mean—"
Ling pushed off the wall. "Enough."
She paced once, sharp, restless.
"I didn't insult her. I didn't threaten her. I didn't touch her today."
Jian muttered, "That's a low bar."
Ling ignored him.
Rina crossed her arms. "Then why was she crying like that?"
Silence.
Ling stopped pacing.
Her voice dropped. "She wasn't crying because of me."
All three looked at her.
"She was crying because she was overwhelmed," Ling continued, convincing herself as much as them. "Because she hates attention. Because she hates losing control."
Rowen frowned. "That didn't look like irritation, Ling."
Ling snapped, "You weren't looking properly."
Jian exchanged a glance with Rina.
"What?" Ling demanded.
Jian said slowly, "She cried like someone who lost something."
Ling's breath hitched just for a fraction of a second.
Rowen noticed. Rina noticed.
Ling straightened immediately. "You're overanalyzing."
Rina stepped closer. "Ling… did anything happen last night? Something you don't know about?"
Ling's answer came too fast. "No."
Rowen scratched his head. "Then why do I feel like we're all missing the obvious?"
Ling laughed once sharp, humorless.
"Because you're idiots."
She grabbed her bag. "Drop this. I'll handle Rhea my way."
Jian asked quietly, "And if your way is what's hurting her?"
Ling froze.
Just for a moment.
Then she turned back, eyes cold, expression sealed.
"Then she should learn not to be hurt by me."
She walked off.
Rina watched her go, unease settling deep.
"She's wrong," Rina said softly.
Rowen nodded. "Yeah."
Jian finished grimly, "And she's about to find out."
——
The locker room buzzed with movement and noise.
Cleats hit the floor. Jerseys were pulled over shoulders. The sharp smell of sweat, leather, and adrenaline filled the air.
Ling stood at her locker, tying her hair back with practiced precision. Her face was composed, unreadable the same mask she wore before every match. Only her fingers betrayed her, tightening slightly more than necessary around the band.
Behind her, Rowen, Jian, and Rina hovered, far too relaxed.
Rowen leaned against a bench, grinning.
"So," he said lazily, "Miss Attitude crying, screaming, pinning you and now you're going to play like nothing happened?"
Ling didn't look at him. "Focus on your own position."
Rina smirked. "You're cranky today."
Ling shot her a glance. "I'm always cranky before matches."
Jian, lacing his boots, added casually, "At least the locker situation is handled."
Ling paused mid-motion.
She turned slowly. "What?"
Jian looked up, confused. "The bag. The one with all the stuff. You told me to get rid of it."
Ling frowned. "I told you to take it away from her. Not—"
Rowen straightened. "Wait. What bag?"
Jian nodded once, simple, unquestioning.
"I threw it. Like you said."
The air shifted.
Ling stared at him. "Where."
Jian hesitated. "Trash unit behind the science block. Why?"
Rowen's grin vanished. "You actually threw it?"
Ling's jaw clenched. "I told him to."
Rina's eyes widened slightly. "Ling—"
Ling cut her off. "I said I told him."
Rowen ran a hand through his hair. "You didn't even check what was going on. You just—"
Ling snapped, "Enough."
She turned back to her locker, slamming it shut harder than necessary.
"It was just paper and junk," she said coldly. "If she didn't want it, it doesn't matter."
Rina stepped closer, voice quieter. "Ling… she wasn't crying like someone annoyed."
Ling laughed once, hollow.
"You all sound like her therapist."
Rowen muttered, "You're being reckless."
That word hit wrong.
Ling turned sharply. "You think I don't know what I'm doing?"
Jian looked genuinely uneasy now. "We're just saying—"
Ling grabbed her jersey and pulled it on, movements sharp.
"I don't need advice. I need to play."
She grabbed her boots.
"Drop the topic," she ordered. "Right now."
Silence followed.
Rowen exhaled slowly. "Fine. But don't act shocked later."
Something had been thrown away far too easily.
And Ling hadn't realized yet what she'd just lost control over.