That night, Fiona suggested a bar—one of those women-only spaces, dim and soft, as if the volume of every emotion had been deliberately turned down. The music wasn't loud, just drifting slowly through the air, easing people into letting their guard slip.
Yeh had been there once before, also with Fiona. She remembered how quickly Fiona had blended in, striking up conversations with ease, as if she belonged in places like this—effortless, open, unguarded. Tonight was no different. The moment they sat down, she was already greeting the table next to them, the atmosphere warming almost instantly around her.
Yeh and Lin sat on either side of her, the distance between them just right—not distant, not close.
Cocktails arrived, clear and luminous, catching the light in a quiet glow. Yeh rarely drank, but this time she didn't refuse. She wanted to try—just a little—to loosen her usual control, to see if something in her might shift.
The alcohol came on slowly, gently. It didn't dull her mind, just softened certain edges.
Fiona grew more talkative. She turned to Yeh with a teasing glance. "See anyone you like? I can call her over."
Yeh froze for a second, instinctively glancing at Lin before adding, almost reflexively, "She's had a bit too much. She doesn't usually say things like that to me." It sounded like she was explaining Fiona away, but also like she was drawing a line in advance.
Fiona shot back immediately, blunt as ever. "I'm not drunk. I'm saying you should open yourself up."
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe, in that moment, she really did want to test something. Yeh followed her gaze, looking around.
Not far away, a woman stood with her hair half tied up, clean-cut features, a cool, composed presence that didn't feel distant.
Yeh lifted her hand and pointed lightly, her tone deliberately casual. "That one… she kind of looks like a friend of mine."
Yeh thought the comment would stay where it was—half a joke, nothing more.
But Fiona was already on her feet.
She walked over, said a few words. The woman looked up, followed Fiona's line of sight, her gaze resting on Yeh for a brief second before she smiled and nodded.
And then she actually came over.
"Hi, I'm Chris."
Her tone was natural—no unnecessary probing, no forced flirtation. Yeh and Lin introduced themselves in turn, and the conversation settled easily into place.
Once Chris sat down, everything flowed. She didn't dominate the conversation, didn't let it fall flat either—just responded at exactly the right moments.
They talked, drank, laughed now and then. Everything stayed within a safe, unspoken boundary.
And yet Yeh found herself more talkative than usual.
She knew exactly why—in front of someone who didn't matter, she didn't need to defend, didn't need to calculate boundaries. She even let herself lean into it a little, making herself seem more open, as if testing a possibility.
From the outside, it all made sense. After all, she had said it herself—I don't like women in real life. What was happening now could easily pass as light, harmless socializing.
Only she knew there was something else woven into it.
Chris edged a little closer, her elbow brushing Yeh's arm now and then. The contact was light, non-intrusive—more like a natural extension than anything intentional. Yeh didn't move away.
She was aware of Lin.Not a direct gaze, but something quieter—a presence that pressed softly into the air around her.
If Lin hadn't been there, she might have been interested in someone like Chris. Not because of how she looked, but that steady, thoughtful ease about her.
But now, every response Yeh gave felt tethered to something else—something more familiar.
The four of them stayed until two in the morning. Yeh had only two drinks; her emotions felt slightly amplified, but her mind remained clear.
They dropped Fiona off first. The night breeze cut through, slowly carrying the haze of alcohol away.
Lin had been planning to take a cab back to her hotel.
Yeh spoke before she could. "I'll be your company back."
Her tone was natural, leaving no room for refusal.
The taxi was quiet. Streetlights slipped past the window, shadows and light shifting across the interior in slow intervals.
When Lin leaned over, the movement was light, almost unintentional. Her head came to rest on Yeh's shoulder.
For a moment, memory and present overlapped—Bangkok, the same closeness, the same unannounced proximity.
Yeh's breathing slowed without her noticing.
She caught the faint scent in Lin's hair—not strong, but unmistakable, impossible to ignore.
She had thought she could control this by now but her body was more honest than she was.
She didn't move. She didn't pull away.
After a second, she even tilted her head slightly toward Lin—like a response she would never admit to.