Whispers in the Dark [LingOrm]

"Drowining in Whiskey and Regret"

Ling's pov

I was seated on the couch, my laptop perched on my knees as I scrolled through the endless stream of documents that demanded my attention. The soft hum of the computer was the only sound in the room, a quiet refuge from the noise of the outside world. My thoughts were wrapped up in work when I heard the familiar creak of the stairs, followed by the soft patter of bare feet against the hardwood floor. I looked up just as Orm appeared, her hair tousled and eyes half-closed, still lost in the fog of sleep.

"Hey, babe," I said, a warm smile spreading across my face as I leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips. Her skin was warm, flushed with the remnants of sleep, and she responded with a soft murmur, barely awake.

She was utterly groggy, her movements slow and uncoordinated as she made her way toward me. There was something endearing about how vulnerable she looked, like a child just waking from a deep sleep, searching for the comfort of something familiar. Without a word, she sank onto my lap, curling up against me, her head finding its place on my shoulder. She let out a soft sigh, her breath warm against my neck as she nestled closer, seeking the warmth and security of my embrace.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a soft, sleepy whisper as she looked up at me with half-lidded eyes. Her arms wrapped around me loosely, more for comfort than for holding on, as if she was content just to be near me, just to feel my presence.

"I'm working," I replied, my voice gentle as I brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I chose to stay home today so I could take care of you."

"Why would you take care of me?" she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed again as she relaxed against me, her body growing heavier as she succumbed to the warmth and comfort of our closeness.

"Because you've got a fever," I explained, my fingers tracing soothing circles on her back. "And you're also too sleepy. You need to rest, babe."

"Yeah," she sighed, her voice barely audible as she nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck. "I'm suddenly so tired."

"Come on," I whispered, my heart aching with tenderness as I guided her to lie down on the sofa. "Lay down here so you can rest."

She complied without protest, her body pliant as she stretched out on the couch, her head resting on my thighs. The weight of her head on my lap was comforting, grounding me in the moment as I watched her, my fingers absentmindedly stroking her hair. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, and the sight of her like this filled me with a fierce protectiveness.

As she closed her eyes, the weariness evident in every line of her face, she mumbled something that caught me off guard. "Please tell me whenever you aren't comfortable with something I do."

Her words were soft, almost a plea, and I could hear the underlying worry in her voice, even in her half-asleep state. It was a simple request, but the weight of it settled heavily in my chest. The thought that she might ever make me uncomfortable, that she was so concerned about it, made my heart ache.

"I will, baby," I assured her, my voice low and soothing. "But I'm never uncomfortable near you. Not ever."

She didn't respond, just hummed in acknowledgment, a soft, contented sound that told me she believed me, even in her drowsy state. Within moments, she was asleep, her breathing slow and even, her body completely relaxed against mine.

As I sat there, gently massaging her scalp, I couldn't help but think about the conversation I'd had with my dad earlier that day. The memory of his harsh words, the way he had hurt the woman I loved, came rushing back, tainting the sweetness of this moment. What would he have done if I hadn't been there to protect her? What if she had come face-to-face with him alone, and he had planted seeds of doubt in her mind? What if he had told her that I didn't love her, when the truth was that I loved her more than I loved myself?

I shook my head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts, but they clung to me like a shadow, refusing to let go. I looked down at Orm, at the way her lashes fluttered slightly in her sleep, and I felt a surge of fierce protectiveness. I would never let anyone hurt her like that again. I would always be there to shield her, to reassure her that my love was real, that it was unwavering.

"Sweetie," she murmured suddenly, her voice pulling me from my thoughts. "I'm going to meet with a friend tomorrow."

I nodded, still lost in the storm of my emotions. The words registered in my mind, but I didn't give them much thought at the time. It was a simple statement, something normal, but I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had taken root in my chest.

The next day came too quickly, and before I knew it, Orm was out the door, heading to meet this mysterious friend. The smile on her face as she opened the door and saw her friend made my heart twist uncomfortably. "Ying!" Orm yelled, her voice bright with happiness as she ran to embrace the girl standing there.

"Hey, babe," the girl said with a wide grin, wrapping her arms around Orm's waist in a way that made my blood run cold. I didn't know this girl, but I knew that I hated her already.

They walked together to her friend's car, their heads close as they talked animatedly, and I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Something about this didn't sit right with me. It wasn't jealousy—not entirely, at least. It was a deeper, more primal instinct, a feeling that something was wrong, that I should follow them.

Without thinking, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, slipping into my car and following them at a safe distance. They drove to a park, a quiet, secluded spot where they parked and continued their conversation. I watched from a distance, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

Orm was engaged in the conversation, her posture open and interested, the way she usually was when something intrigued her. It was a posture that had always made me want to kiss her, to pull her close and make her laugh. But now, seeing her like this with someone else, it only made my stomach churn with unease.

Then, before I could even process what was happening, Ying leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a friendly kiss, not a casual peck on the cheek. It was something more, something that made my blood boil and my vision blur with rage. And then Ying smiled, a satisfied, knowing smile that twisted the knife in my chest.

I felt a rush of emotions—anger, jealousy, sadness—so intense that I could barely breathe. I wanted to storm over there, to tear them apart, to scream and demand answers. But I couldn't move. I was frozen, paralyzed by the shock of what I had just witnessed.

Finally, the storm inside me became too much to bear, and I turned away, heading back to my car. I couldn't go back to Orm's place, not after what I had seen. Instead, I drove aimlessly, my thoughts a chaotic mess, until I found myself at my own home, a place that suddenly felt cold and empty.

I went straight to the cellar, my hands trembling as I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel's. The familiar burn of the whiskey as it slid down my throat was a welcome distraction from the pain that was threatening to consume me. I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wall as the tears finally came, hot and bitter, mingling with the alcohol.

If you're hoping for a happy ending, for Orm to come to my house and kiss me and tell me it was all a mistake, let me stop you right there. She didn't come to my house that day. She didn't come the next day either. And as the days passed, I found myself sinking deeper into the darkness, the pain of betrayal gnawing at my heart like a relentless, unforgiving beast.