Faded Echoes || LINGORM ✓

CHAPTER 9

Gentle raindrops tapping against the window of the coffee shop brought serenity to Lingling's racing thoughts. It was her time of peace as she watched the rain fall with her mind churning in disarray. She wanted to get out and let the cool rain wash over her skin, but she remained still, caught in her thoughts.

On the outside, people ran to find shelter from the rain pounding relentlessly.

Lingling watched them go, but her thoughts began to wander once again into the memories of Orm. She remembered running through the rain and the way they were racing each other, laughing hard and freely.

Those sweet moments seemed so far away now—the playful banter, all those sweet times.

A bitter smile twisted her lips. "All just memories now," she whispered to herself.

These memories remained locked in her brain, forever inside her mind to never be seen again.

She finished her coffee and got up, placing the money on the table and stepping out of the coffee shop. She sent her secretary a rapid-fire text, then stepped into the rain streaming down around her.

The gust of wind blew around her; she hugged herself instinctively.

"Doc!" A familiar voice cut through her thoughts.

It was Nene, her secretary, holding two umbrellas. She handed one to Lingling, who nodded in thanks and took it. Together, they started walking toward the hospital.

"Mrs. Dew called earlier," Nene said, her voice neutral.

Lingling raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "What did she say?"

"She didn't give any details, just that she'll be visiting later," Nene replied.

"At the hospital?" Lingling asked.

"She didn't say."

Lingling did not say anything, just nodding as she continued walking. When they reached the hospital, she closed the umbrella and put it on the stand before walking directly to her office.

She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ease the headache forming there.

Lingling could not fathom why she felt so torn all over again. She had believed that she was done with Orm, yet every time the memory resurfaced, it seemed like the wound had never closed. She could still feel it—raw and aching, slowly reopening.

Five years had gone by, yet the pain stayed.

There's no sense, of course: Orm is the one who finally ended their connection. No farewells were said, but rather a rude departure, as if she saw a night for memory.

Lingling's heart was filled full with questions, though none were addressed, and hence each one tore at her soul. She could have used words to close some things, finish some things for good, as Orm didn't give any of that in return.

Lingling buried herself in her work, trying to push the thoughts aside. She worked tirelessly till she lost her sense of time until her cell phone rang—her mom calling to see how she's doing.

She quickly touched herself up, buttoned her blazer, and began gathering her stuff before leaving the office. Rain hadn't quit. Nurses greet her as she passed by. She returned it with a quiet nod.

Going back into her car, she drove to her penthouse; familiar routine offered little comfort. She entered and began to park as she found that the lights were already on inside.

"Mom, I'm home!" she called out, walking directly to the kitchen, her senses invigorated by the familiar scent of home-cooked meals.

"Take a seat, dear," her mother said, turning away from the stove. "I made your favorite. How was your day? The hospital?

"Stressful as always," Lingling replied, offering a half-smile.

Dew lowered the heat on the stove and turned to face her daughter. Her expression softened, but the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. Lingling couldn’t bear to see her mother so concerned, so she forced a smile.

"Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m okay," she reassured her. "And if you’re thinking about the news… her… I’m fine."

"Ling…"

"I’m really okay, Mom," Lingling insisted, standing up. "Let’s not talk about her. I’ll just change, okay?" She kissed her mother on the cheek and left the room.

Inside her bedroom, Lingling collapsed onto her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was hazy in her mind, but her heart... It was heavy. The wound she had thought now healed had torn open once more, and this time the pain felt sharper, deeper, more unbearable than before.