To Love Again | LingOrm AU

Chapter 8: Hearts Laid Bare

Author's Note:

I'm happy that LingOrm has finally landed in Manila, but heartbroken at the same time because I couldn't make it to the fan meeting.🥺 They are so near, yet still so far. Maybe one day... Someday.♥️

So, to celebrate their visit to my country, here's another chapter for all of you lovely readers, so you won't have to wait long. This picks up right where we left off.

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The day crawled by with agonizing slowness as Orm kept vigil over Ling's sleeping form on the couch. Sunlight crept across the living room, painting shifting patterns on the walls and illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. Ling's steady breathing created a quiet rhythm to the hours, punctuated occasionally by the muffled sounds of life from the street below.

For the first time since she had opened her flower shop, Orm had decided to temporarily close for the day. The weight of this decision pressed heavily on her conscience. There had been days when, even battling illness, Orm would still open her shop, always insisting that people needed her. "Flowers aren't just pretty decorations," she'd often say, her eyes twinkling. "They're messengers of hope, comfort, and love." Granted, her services might not be as "important" as those of a doctor or someone dealing with more pressing matters, but Orm had always believed in the power of flowers to lift spirits and heal hearts.

As the morning wore on, Orm realized that Ling might appreciate something comforting when she woke up. While there was food in the apartment, Orm thought of the fresh, soft bread from Mr. Niran's nearby bakery. She decided a quick trip wouldn't hurt.

Before leaving, Orm scribbled a note for Ling, just in case she woke up, promising a swift return. She placed it on the coffee table where Ling could easily see it from the couch. With a last glance at the other woman, Orm quietly slipped out of the apartment, determined to make the errand as brief as possible.

As Orm entered the bakery, its warm aroma enveloped her, momentarily distracting her from her worries. Mr. Niran, the middle-aged owner with kind eyes and flour-dusted hands, looked up from behind the counter. His face broke into a wide, fatherly smile at the sight of her.

"Sawasdee kha, Nong Orm!" he exclaimed cheerfully, his eyes twinkling with genuine affection. "What a pleasant surprise! Come, come, I just took out a fresh batch of your favorite khanom pang sang kaya."

As Orm approached the counter, Mr. Niran's expression softened with a hint of concern. "Oh, by the way, luk," he said, using the Thai term for 'child' that he often used with Orm, "I passed by your shop earlier and noticed the closed sign. Is everything alright? It's not like you to take a day off."

Orm felt a twinge of guilt at the genuine worry in his voice. She managed a small smile, hoping it reached her eyes. "Oh, yes, Khun Niran. Just busy with the festival preparations," she replied, the half-truth tasting bitter on her tongue.

It wasn't a blatant lie, she reasoned with herself. The upcoming festival was indeed occupying much of her time. But as the words left her mouth, Orm felt the weight of the unspoken truth – of Ling lying injured in her apartment, of the mysteries and dangers that seemed to surround the other woman.

Mr. Niran nodded, seemingly satisfied with her explanation. "Ah, yes, the festival. It's going to be quite an event this year, isn't it?" He began gathering an assortment of bread and pastries. "You work too hard, Nong Orm. Make sure you take care of yourself too."

Orm's smile softened, touched by his concern. "I will, Khun Niran. Thank you."

As she paid for her purchases, Orm couldn't help but feel a pang of unease. The weight of Ling's situation, and the need to protect her, pressed heavily on Orm's shoulders. Clutching the warm bag of bread to her chest, Orm hurried back to her apartment, her mind racing with unanswered questions and growing concerns.