Between Us || LINGORM

Chapter 28: The Cracks Between Us

The evening started like any other, with Lingling and Orm sitting across from each other at the small dining table in their shared dorm. The faint hum of city life filtered through the windows, blending with the clicking of Orm's keyboard as she finished an assignment. Lingling, meticulous as ever, was scrolling through her planner, double-checking their schedules for the week ahead.

But beneath the surface, tension brewed—a subtle friction neither of them wanted to address, yet both felt pressing against their chests.

It had started days ago, after their weekend getaway. Lingling had slipped back into her usual routines, scheduling every moment with precision, while Orm, buoyed by the carefree spirit of their trip, seemed to float through the week with a lightheartedness Lingling couldn't share. It wasn't the first time their differences clashed, but tonight, the weight of their unspoken frustrations threatened to spill over.

"I just think you could take things a little more seriously," Lingling said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, measured, but her words carried an edge.

Orm glanced up from her laptop, blinking. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lingling set her planner down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "It means that maybe you could focus a bit more on... priorities. Like our plans for after graduation."

Orm leaned back in her chair, her eyebrows shooting up. "Wait, what? Where's this coming from?"

"I'm just saying," Lingling continued, her voice steady but her eyes sharp, "we talked about mapping out what's next. But instead of sitting down to actually plan, you've been—"

"Having fun?" Orm interrupted, her tone defensive. "Is that such a crime?"

Lingling sighed, her composure starting to crack. "It's not about fun, Orm. It's about balance. You can't just avoid serious conversations because they're inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?" Orm's voice rose. "Ling, we just got back from a trip where you planned every second. I barely had time to breathe, let alone think about the future!"

Lingling's jaw tightened. "So now it's my fault?"

"That's not what I said," Orm snapped, pushing her laptop aside. "But you're always so... rigid about everything. Can't we just live in the moment for once without treating it like a checklist?"

"Living in the moment doesn't mean avoiding responsibility," Lingling countered, her voice rising for the first time. "Do you even realize how much effort I put into making sure things go smoothly for us? Someone has to think ahead, Orm. Someone has to take control."

"And that someone always has to be you, huh?" Orm shot back, standing now. Her voice was louder than she intended, but the words spilled out before she could stop them. "It's like you don't trust me to handle anything!"

The room fell silent. Lingling stood too, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Orm thought she'd yell, but when Lingling finally spoke, her voice was low, almost trembling.

"It's not about trust," Lingling said, her gaze fixed on Orm. "It's about... needing things to be okay. I've always had to be the one to hold everything together because if I didn't, everything fell apart. And maybe I thought you'd understand that by now."

The vulnerability in Lingling's words hit Orm like a punch to the gut. But instead of softening, Orm's frustration flared.

"And maybe I thought you'd trust me enough to loosen up!" Orm retorted. "I'm not some child who needs to be micromanaged, Ling. I'm your girlfriend, not your project!"

The words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. Lingling's hands clenched at her sides, her calm veneer finally shattering.

"Maybe if you acted like you cared about our future instead of just coasting along, I wouldn't feel like I had to micromanage!" she snapped.

Orm froze, her chest tightening. "You think I don't care?"

Lingling didn't respond immediately, and the silence was deafening. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but firm. "Sometimes... it feels like you don't."

The words cut deeper than any shout could have. Orm took a step back, her fists clenching at her sides.

"You know what, Ling? Maybe you should figure out what you actually want. Because right now, it feels like nothing I do is ever good enough for you."

Without waiting for a response, Orm grabbed her bag and stormed out of the dorm, slamming the door behind her.

The city felt colder than usual as Orm wandered aimlessly through the streets, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She replayed their fight in her head, each word stinging more than the last.

Was Lingling right? Was she really just coasting along? Orm hated how much the thought hurt, hated how much power Lingling's words had over her.

But at the same time, Orm couldn't shake the frustration of always feeling like she had to prove herself. Lingling's need for control was suffocating sometimes, and tonight, it had been too much.

Back in the dorm, Lingling sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the door Orm had slammed shut. Her hands trembled as she tried to calm herself, but the weight of their argument pressed heavily on her chest.

She hated fighting with Orm. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Lingling thought back to Orm's words, her accusation that Lingling didn't trust her. Was it true? Had Lingling's need for control made Orm feel inadequate?

The thought made her stomach churn. She didn't want Orm to feel that way. But at the same time, Lingling couldn't shake the fear that if she let go, everything would fall apart.

Orm eventually found herself at a small café, its warm lights a welcome contrast to the chilly night. She sat in a corner booth, nursing a cup of coffee she didn't want, trying to sort through the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

She loved Lingling. That much was undeniable. But how could they move forward if they kept clashing like this?

Orm sighed, pulling out her phone. Her finger hovered over Lingling's name, but she hesitated. She wasn't ready to talk yet. Not until she could figure out what to say.

Lingling, meanwhile, had tried to focus on her planner, hoping the familiar act of organizing would calm her nerves. But every time she looked at the empty seat across the table, a pang of regret pierced her chest.

She glanced at her phone, half-expecting Orm to text, but the screen remained dark. Lingling's heart sank.

For all her efforts to stay in control, Lingling felt utterly lost without Orm by her side.

It was past midnight when Orm finally returned to the dorm. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of Lingling's bedside lamp.

Lingling sat up as Orm entered, her heart racing. She opened her mouth to speak, but Orm held up a hand.

"Not tonight," Orm said quietly, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I need time, Ling."

Lingling's chest tightened, but she nodded, respecting Orm's need for space.

As Orm climbed into bed, the silence between them was deafening. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in their relationship might be too deep to mend.

And yet, as Lingling lay awake, staring at the ceiling, one thought echoed in her mind:

I can't lose her. Not like this.