faded echoes ¦ sk x ks

CHAPTER 21

Ling's Point of View

After leaving my office, I decided not to drive myself. The weight of the day had me in no mood to navigate the road, so I opted for a cab. Without a clear destination in mind, I let the ride take me to the beach where I planned to meet Orm. It had been two hours since I left Grandview Hospital, but I finally reached there, the cool night breeze already brushing against my skin.

The moon still hung in the sky, full and luminous, offering only enough light to guide me toward the shoreline. The waves crashed against the sand, relentless and soothing sounds flooding into my ears, as if echoing my racing thoughts. I was hit by the cutting ice of the wind and instinctively held my arms around myself to ward off the chill.

Then, out of the dark, emerged a figure-a tall, silhouetted outline against the wild waves. She was turned to face the water; she had her back to me. It was as though she, too, had just arrived. And yet I forced myself forward with a heavy leaden step and more leaden after that. As I reached her, I did not say anything and stood wordless by her side, unable to break the spell by speaking to her.

We stood there together, the waves crashing in the distance, neither of us breaking the silence. I could feel her presence more than I could see her clearly. From the corner of my eye, I noticed her glance upward at the sky, but I kept my gaze fixed on the endless horizon, unwilling to face her fully just yet. I had so many questions-so much I wanted to ask-but I held back. I wanted to hear her side first. I needed to hear it.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for the answers, but I knew I had to hear them. The silence between us grew heavier with every passing second. It had been five years of silently suffering, watching her move on while I was stuck in the past, clinging to memories that hurt more with each passing day. I couldn't do it anymore. I needed closure, and I needed to stop hurting. I needed to start over, to leave the past behind, but I wasn't sure if I could do that without hearing her out.

The ache in my chest was almost unbearable as I realized how perfectly everything seemed to have fallen into place for her, while I was left behind, trapped in the past. I was the one who had been hurt, yet here I was, unable to escape the chains of our memories. I was a prisoner to them.

I heard her clear her throat, and I could feel my breath catch in my throat. This was it. The moment I had been dreading.

"H-How are you, Ling?" Her voice was soft, but the way she said my name made my heart skip. I wanted to laugh, but the sound caught in my throat. Her asking me that-after everything-was almost surreal.

"I... I'm okay, at least," I somehow stuttered back, my voice sounding so empty, even to me.

Another thick silence fell between us. We heard only the whistling wind, waves pounding against each other, and quiet, heavy breathing. The air started chilling, so I hugged myself close, huddling up in the cold. Thick tension surrounded us, squeezing my breath off from my body; the embarrassment could not bear that long.

I clicked my tongue in frustration, breaking the silence. "How... how about you?" I asked, my voice strained.

I caught her stealing a glance at me from the corner of my eye, but she shifted her focus right back to the waves. "I'm good, thanks for asking," she said, her voice laced with something I couldn't quite place. "Even if you sound like it was forced," she added almost as an afterthought.

The words hit me harder than I expected, and I wanted to scream. Was she pretending to be fine, or was it me who was still stuck in the past? Her voice carried a strange mix of bitterness, hurt, and nervousness-a mirror of everything I was feeling.

I saw that the wind was brushing her slightly, and I bit my lip, holding myself from saying something more. But at this moment, as she froze, I couldn't stop myself.

"You should have brought a jacket," I blurted, as I couldn't resist letting the worry sneak into my voice. "You know we are going to the beach, not some sauna. You can't wear just a shirt and shorts."

She laughed, but it was light, almost self-deprecating. "I brought two. They're in my car."

Two jackets? Why? The question lingered in my mind, but I swallowed it down.

"You can get them before we... get to the reason we're really here," I said, trying to sound indifferent, though my heart was hammering in my chest.

"It's fine-" she began, but I cut her off.

"I don't want to take care of a sick ex-girlfriend, Orm."

There was a long pause, and I saw her bite her lip in what seemed like restraint. She nodded before turning her back to me. I watched her walk away, and a bitter smile curled at my lips. The wound, I realized, was wide open again, bleeding more than before.

I took a deep breath, and the salty air of the beach filled my lungs, calming my jittery nerves. I kicked off my shoes and sank into the sand, hugging my knees to my chest, seeking some kind of comfort in the cool earth beneath me.

I could hear her footsteps approaching, but I didn't turn around. I wasn't ready for this-not yet. I braced myself for whatever she was going to say. But when I felt her presence behind me, I froze.

She put a jacket on my shoulder, the cool material brushing against my skin. I shivered at the simple, unexpected gesture. She sat down beside me, already wrapped in a black hoodie, and her presence lingered in the air like a weight I couldn't shake. My fingers gripped the hem of my shirt, trying to steady myself as her touch replayed in my mind.

"It's been... a while," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "Yet, it's still vividly fresh in my mind."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips, and memories came flooding back of the first time we had chanced upon this beach, of how it became our place. It is where we had shared everything: first confessions, celebrations, the sheer joy of being together. It was then that our very sanctuary turned into a reminder of all that had been lost.

And here we were again, standing on the edge of the past, trying to fix what had been broken.

I didn't know if we could ever fix it, but maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something new.