𝓡𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓲𝓵𝔂

𝓒𝓗𝓐𝓟𝓣𝓔𝓡 𝓕𝓞𝓤𝓡

𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓞𝓯 𝓐 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓮

⌘ ❦ ⌘

O R M

       A RUSH OF anticipation woke me around seven that Sunday morning. I hurried through my shower, the warm water doing little to calm the nervous excitement buzzing in my veins. I chose my clothes with more care than usual—a pair of well-fitted jeans and a soft, light blue sweater that I hoped would strike the right balance between relaxed and put-together.

I wanted to look presentable for Lingling. First impressions didn’t usually matter to me until she happened, and I realized how disheveled I must have appeared in her eyes yesterday. Could heaven just give me a reset for our first meeting?

I made my way out of my room, half-expecting to find her in the kitchen, maybe sipping her morning coffee or reading something on an electronic device. But the kitchen was empty. My heart sank a little. She must still be asleep, given the time we had resigned to our own rooms earlier.

I tinkered in her perfect kitchen for a cup of coffee and blew on it as I stood at the bottom of the stairs, my foot tapping on the floor. Nathan’s reminder about steering clear of Lingling’s precious rooms was pinned like a sticky note to the front of my brain.

It was a restless sort of waiting, the kind that makes you aware of every second ticking by. As ridiculous as it sounded, I already missed Lingling. Hours ago, after our brief exchange, I had forced myself to go to sleep. But even in the haze of half-sleep, her presence lingered in my mind.

I plopped down on the bottom step, my legs sprawled out in front of me. It felt silly, feeling this way about someone I had just met, but I couldn’t shake the need to be near her. Her calmness fascinated me, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her.

I fiddled with the hem of my sweater, my mind replaying our interactions. I realized then how much her presence had already affected me, how much I wanted to be around her, even if just to hear her voice or catch a glimpse of her smile. It was strange and unsettling, but I couldn’t deny it. Her presence made me feel simultaneously grounded and electrified—it was all so new and overwhelming.

Time seemed to crawl as I waited, my restlessness growing with each passing minute. I checked the time on my phone for what felt like the hundredth time, then glanced up at the top of the stairs, expecting her to appear any moment. I knew I had to be patient, but patience had never been my strong suit. Just as I was about to head back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, I heard footsteps coming from the living room.

Lingling appeared, her face glowing with a faint flush, still catching her breath as she held a chilled water bottle in her hand. She wore a snug black sports bra, its sleek fabric hugging her toned torso, paired with high-waisted athletic leggings that accentuated her long legs. Her hair, slightly damp from exertion, was pulled back into a messy ponytail, with a few loose strands framing her flushed cheeks. I quickly pieced it together—of course, Orm, the woman had her routine. And she looked effortlessly radiant even after a workout.

She looked surprised to see me waiting there, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. Then, she gave me a small smile. “Good morning, Orm. Did you sleep well?”

I stood up, trying to hide how relieved I felt to see her. “Good morning, Lingling. Yeah, I did. I, um, I missed you.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

Lingling raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Missed me, huh? We just met yesterday.”

“I know, but I couldn’t help it,” I admitted, feeling a bit foolish. “What time did you wake up?”