The next morning came like nothing had happened.
Ling woke before the alarm, as she always did. Her body moved on habit alone—shower cold, hair tied back, black suit chosen without thought. Control wrapped around her again, neat and sharp.
By the time the sun rose fully, Ling Kwong was already on her way to the university.
Her university.
The campus reacted before people did.
Staff straightened instinctively. Conversations lowered. Heads turned.
She walked through the main corridor with measured steps, hands clasped behind her back, expression unreadable behind her glasses. The echo of her shoes against the floor carried authority more than sound.
In class, students sat straighter than usual.
Some tried bravado.
Some tried arrogance.
None succeeded.
Ling lectured without notes, voice calm, precise, cutting through the room like a scalpel.
"You are not here to feel important," she said flatly, eyes scanning the room. "You are here to learn how not to kill someone."
A few swallowed hard.
One student raised his hand, half-smirking. "Ma'am, you're being dramatic."
Ling looked at him.
Just looked.
The silence stretched.
"Sit down," she said quietly.
He did.
No further explanation was needed.
By noon, the university buzzed with her presence. By evening, it exhaled when she left.
Ling didn't look back.
At the mansion that night, she worked until her eyes burned. Files. Reports. Anything that kept her mind occupied.
She did not look at the photograph.
She slept badly anyway.
The next day came.
Ling returned to the university again.
Routine.
Consistency.
Control.
She crossed the courtyard this time instead of the main hall, coat catching the wind slightly. Students whispered openly now.
"That's her."
"The owner."
"She's terrifying."
"She's brilliant."
Ling heard none of it.
She sat in on another lecture, corrected a professor mid-sentence without apology, and dismissed a disruptive group with a single sentence that left them pale.
"You mistake freedom for disrespect," she said. "That mistake ends today."
No one tested her again.
Still—
Something followed her.
Not a person.
A feeling.
A faint pressure behind her ribs. A sense of wrong timing. Of paths crossing too closely without touching.
She ignored it.
That evening, she stood at her office window, looking out over the campus lights. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted toward the medical block before she caught herself.
Her jaw tightened.
"No," she said softly to the empty room.
She left early.
The university adjusted around her presence like a living thing learning its boundaries.
Nights stayed restless.
Her hand reached for the photograph more than once before she stopped herself.
Her heart stayed disobedient.
The next morning light slipped into Rhea's room without permission.
She had been awake long before it arrived.
Rhea lay on her side, staring at the wall, eyes open, unmoving. The clock on her bedside table ticked softly, each second landing too loud in the quiet.
Three days.
She counted them without trying.
The first day, she had stayed back because Shyra had asked. Because Amaya had clung to her legs and said "Ninna stay." That excuse had been easy. Welcome, even.
The second day… harder.
The third—she didn't let herself name.
A knock came at the door.
Shyra's.
"Rhea?" Shyra called gently. "You awake?"
"Yes," Rhea answered immediately.
Shyra opened the door and leaned against the frame, studying her sister's face. Too pale. Too composed. The kind of calm that meant something underneath was screaming.
"You haven't gone to uni for three days," Shyra said, not accusing. Just stating.
Rhea pushed herself up into a sitting position, pulling the blanket neatly over her lap. "I know."
Shyra crossed her arms. "First day was because of me. I know that."
Rhea nodded once.
"Second and third?" Shyra pressed. "Rhea, you don't skip without a reason."
Rhea looked away, eyes drifting toward the window. "I just didn't feel like going."
Shyra didn't accept that.
She walked in fully and sat on the edge of the bed. "You didn't feel like going… or you didn't feel like seeing something?"
Rhea's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
Shyra lowered her voice. "After that night. After the restaurant."
Rhea inhaled slowly. Controlled. Practiced. "It's not because of her."
The lie came out smooth.
Too smooth.
Shyra's eyes narrowed slightly. "You sure?"
"Yes," Rhea said, sharper now. "I'm sure."
Silence stretched between them.
Amaya's soft babbling echoed faintly from another room, grounding and distant all at once.
Shyra studied Rhea for a long moment. "You don't have to lie to me."
"I'm not," Rhea replied immediately. "I just… don't feel like it. Uni feels heavy right now."
"That's new," Shyra said quietly.
Rhea's fingers curled into the blanket. "People change."
Shyra sighed. "You love medicine."
"I still do," Rhea said. "That hasn't changed."
"Then why stay locked in this room?" Shyra asked. "Why avoid something you worked so hard for?"
Rhea looked up then, eyes steady but tired. "Because sometimes even good things feel unbearable."
Shyra softened. "Is it fear?"
Rhea didn't answer right away.
Then she said, carefully, "It's exhaustion."
Shyra nodded slowly, accepting what she could. "Alright. But you can't disappear forever."
"I won't," Rhea said. "I'll go tomorrow."
"You promise?" Shyra asked.
Rhea hesitated for half a second.
Then nodded. "I will try."
Shyra stood, brushing her hands together. "Good. Mom's already suspicious. Don't give her more reasons."
Rhea's lips pressed into a thin line. "She doesn't need reasons."
Shyra paused at the door. "Rhea?"
"Yes?"
"If you ever feel like you're running from something… just make sure it's not chasing you from behind."
Rhea didn't respond.
The door closed.
Alone again, Rhea exhaled shakily and leaned back against the pillows.
Her phone lay on the table beside her. Silent. Untouched.
She stared at it, then turned her face away.
"It's not because of her," she whispered to herself, as if repetition could make it true.
She didn't know—
That Ling Kwong had been walking those same halls every morning.
That the university she was avoiding was already claimed by the woman she feared seeing.
Ling didn't know Rhea was anywhere near her world again.
Two women.
One campus.
Both deliberately looking the other way.
Rhea lay back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Tomorrow," she murmured again.
She didn't know whether she was promising Shyra—
Or begging herself.