Unscripted Love | Lingorm

Behind Closed Doors

The morning sun filtered through the studio windows as Lingling arrived on set, a sense of dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't been able to sleep well the night before, her mind racing with thoughts of the day ahead-an entire day trapped in a room with Orm, pretending to be a couple.

The crew had cleared a small space on the lot, transforming it into a cozy, lived-in apartment. The set was intimate-there was a kitchen, a small living area, and a bedroom with a bed that seemed too inviting for the tension that lingered between them. The idea of spending hours in that space, with Orm and no script to guide them, left Ling uneasy.

She tried to steady herself, reminding herself it was just acting. She'd done difficult scenes before, with co-stars she wasn't close to. But this felt different. The silence between her and Orm was growing louder with every passing day.

Ling took a deep breath and made her way to the apartment set. Orm was already there, sitting on the couch, flipping through a notebook absentmindedly. She looked up when Ling entered, her expression as unreadable as ever. There was a slight nod of acknowledgment but nothing more. No smile, no warmth.

The director appeared, her hands on her hips, looking between them. "Alright, here's the deal," she began, her voice crisp. "This isn't about hitting marks or following a script. This is about living in the moment, being your character. For the next eight hours, you two are a couple-no breaks, no stepping out of character. I want you to forget we're here and just... exist in this space."

Orm nodded curtly, her gaze fixed on the director as if Ling weren't even in the room. Ling tried not to let it sting. She was used to Orm's coldness by now, though it didn't make it any easier to handle.

"We'll be watching from the monitors," the director continued, gesturing toward the hidden cameras set up around the apartment. "Don't think about the cameras, though. Just be present. Let whatever happens, happen."

Ling swallowed hard, her palms damp as she glanced around the room. There was no script to rely on this time, no clear path forward. It was just her and Orm, stuck in this fabricated reality, pretending to be something they weren't.

With a final nod, the director stepped back, leaving the two of them alone. The sound of the door clicking shut behind her felt like a finality that Ling wasn't ready for.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Orm stayed seated on the couch, her posture relaxed but her eyes distant, as if she were already sinking into character-or, perhaps, it wasn't a character at all. The coldness she radiated seemed to blur the line between reality and fiction.

Ling hesitated, unsure of how to start. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. She knew she had to say something, do something, but the weight of Orm's indifference made it hard to find her footing.

"So..." Ling began, her voice barely breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"

Orm finally looked at her, her gaze cool and assessing. "We act," she said simply, as though the answer were obvious.

Lingling nodded slowly, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She walked toward the small kitchen area, feeling Orm's eyes on her back. It was strange, being under the same roof with someone who felt so far away.

She opened the fridge, the cold air hitting her face as she glanced at the food stocked inside. It was all part of the scene-the props, the illusion of a life they were supposed to be living together. She pulled out a carton of eggs and a few vegetables, deciding that breakfast was as good a place to start as any.