Faded Echoes || LINGORM ✓

CHAPTER 10

Ling's Point of View

"Mom, it's already late. You should stay tonight."

I stood in the door frame, watching my mom. The rain had stopped, but the wind was still harsh. The air was cold, and I couldn't shake the worry about her leaving. I'd asked her to stay more than once, but she was as stubborn as ever.

She shook her head. "The driver's already waiting outside. And your sister is home alone."

"But it's dangerous..." I whispered, my voice hardly audible.

She chuckled softly. "I will be fine. Don't worry."

"There's a maid at home. Milk can take care of herself. Maybe her girlfriend is there too." I tried again.

"You're such a baby," she said with a playful smile.

"I'm just worried about you," I replied, feeling my heart weighed down.

"Ling, sweetheart, I'll be fine. I'll send you texts when I get home." Her voice strict, it left me unable to continue arguing.

I let out a sigh, my lips curled into a smile as I hugged her close, kissing her cheek.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Mom." I saw her get into the car. When the car disappeared from my sight, I turned and walked back into the building, going toward the elevator. I pushed the button for the upper floor and felt a pang of loneliness.

Walking into my penthouse, I threw myself onto the sofa. The city unfolded before me, blinking lights like stars at a distance. It was a nice view. Here, at least for me, the buzz seemed to calm the urban hubbub somehow.

I sat there, letting my mind wander.

Everything seemed okay.

Soothe. Peaceful.

I liked it.

I sat back on the sofa, my eyes closed. And then, as if that were the simplest thing in the world, her cold eyes materialized before me. I didn't open my eyes or try to push the image away. I let it come. The scene of that night, when she ended everything, flooded back. It tugged at me, and I let myself feel it.

I couldn't stop it, anyway.

Sharp pains cut through me like knives. I thought I had healed; I thought I had moved on, but I was wrong. I would never be okay. Not until I got my answers.

Questions swirled inside my head. Can I face her? Why did she end it? Had I missed something—something I didn't even know about?

"You still hurting me, Orm," I whispered into the silence, the words hardly out of my mouth. "But you seem so happy now. You've moved on, haven't you?"

I slowly sat up and opened my eyes, walking to the library room. My heart weighed a heavy, quiet ache. I opened the box that had been unopened for five years. My hands ran about frantically as I walked back with it to the living area and placed it gently on the floor.

I slowly opened the box, the lid creaking, and memories spilled out inside: framed pictures, old Polaroid pictures, dried roses, old love letters, and a small red box. All was there together in the brown box.

I grabbed the picture of our first anniversary. It was on the beach where we celebrated our love. That day was full of firsts—our first kiss, our first intimate moment, our first trip together, our first Christmas, and New Year. It had been a perfect day, unforgettable for me.

I ran my thumb over her face in the photo, my smile bitter as I stared at her youthful, loving eyes. She was so full of life, so full of love.

I put it down and picked up the picture from our last anniversary, that spent time in Venice, Italy. She was embracing me from the backside of the body, with her lips on my cheek, and my face was stretched into a grin. It was the most romantic time for a woman like me.

Some few months later, she ended it all.

I gasped for air at that moment; memories weighed me down, suffocating me. How could something as beautiful as that end painfully?

"Our love story was so perfect and yet ended in pain," I whispered, scanning through the last photo before I put it away carefully.

The rain poured outside my window as my tears fell.

I thought that I had finally cried for her, for the same wounds and heartache. But here I was, in my penthouse, crying in the rain alone.