Ling eyes widened, pupils dilating as something ugly crawled up her spine.
Blood.
Her blood?
No.
Her gaze snapped downward.
There — near the tire, barely noticeable against the pavement — something glinted.
A small ring.
Bent.
Familiar.
Ling's heart slammed so hard it hurt.
"No," she whispered.
She crouched abruptly, fingers shaking as she picked it up.
The navel piercing.
Rhea's.
The world tilted.
Ling's breath came sharp and uneven as fragments slammed together in her head — the dance, her grip, the warmth she ignored, the way Rhea went silent instead of crying out.
Ling straightened suddenly, panic ripping through her composure.
"Rhea," she said, voice breaking for the first time that day.
She turned, scanning wildly.
The courtyard was almost empty now. Students had scattered. Voices were distant. Normal.
Too normal.
"Rhea!" Ling shouted, spinning in a circle.
Nothing.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Ling started walking fast — then running.
She checked the auditorium doors. Empty.
The hallway. Nothing.
The benches. The parking lot.
Her breaths turned ragged.
"Where is she?" Ling demanded, tears finally spilling as she grabbed the first student she saw by the collar.
"Rhea," Ling said sharply, eyes wild. "Where did she go?"
The student panicked. "I—I don't know! I swear—she left alone!"
Ling shoved them away and turned to another.
"You," she snapped, gripping harder this time. "Did you see her? Where did she go?"
The girl shook her head, terrified. "No one knows—she disappeared!"
Ling's vision blurred.
Her fingers loosened, dropping uselessly to her sides.
Blood was still smeared on her skin. Rhea's blood.
Ling staggered back a step, clutching the piercing in her fist like it could anchor her.
"No… no, no, no," she whispered, voice cracking apart. "She was just here."
Her throat burned.
Tears slid freely now, unrestrained, streaking down her face as dread replaced anger completely.
Ling turned in frantic circles again, calling her name softer this time — broken.
"Rhea… please."
But there was no answer.
Only silence.
And for the first time since the night before, Ling felt it clearly —
Not revenge.
Not rage.
Fear.
Pure, suffocating fear —
that she had finally gone too far,
and hurt the one person she had once sworn to protect,
and didn't even know where she was to undo it.
Rhea stayed locked inside the bathroom stall long after the sounds outside faded.
Her cries had gone quiet now — not because the pain stopped, but because her throat was too raw to keep breaking.
Her hands moved desperately.
She tore more paper towels from the dispenser, layering them again and again, pressing them hard against her skin. She wrapped her scarf tightly around her waist, knotting it with shaking fingers, hoping pressure would do what tears couldn't.
It didn't.
The fabric darkened almost immediately.
"No… please," she whispered, voice hoarse, breath uneven. "Just stop."
Her hands were slick. Red stained her fingers, her palms, the edge of her skirt. It kept slipping no matter how tight she held it, no matter how hard she pressed.
Her back slid down the wall until she was curled on the floor again, knees drawn up, shoulders shaking.
She tried to breathe properly.
In. Out.
Like she used to when things got bad.
But every breath felt like it cut her open further.
Her vision blurred — tiles doubling, then tripling — and she laughed weakly at that too.
"Even my body's giving up on me," she murmured bitterly.
Tears dripped down onto her hands, mixing with the blood. She wiped her face roughly, frustrated with herself for still crying when this was exactly what she had earned.
This is punishment, she told herself.
This is balance.
She tightened the wrap again, wincing, jaw clenched so hard it ached. Pain shot through her abdomen, sharp and nauseating, but she welcomed it — pain felt cleaner than regret.
"I didn't scream," she whispered again, like a prayer.
"I didn't embarrass you. I didn't make you look cruel."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"You don't even know," she said softly, voice breaking again. "And maybe that's better."
Her head fell back against the stall door. The cold metal seeped into her skin, grounding her just enough to stay conscious.
Time stretched.
Minutes blurred.
Her hands trembled from holding pressure too long. Her arms ached. Her breathing grew shallow, exhaustion creeping in like a tide she couldn't fight.
Still, the blood didn't stop.
Fear finally slipped past her self-blame.
What if this doesn't stop?
What if I pass out here and no one finds me?
She shook her head quickly, forcing herself to stay awake.
"No," she whispered firmly to herself. "Not like this."
She wiped her eyes again, smearing tears uselessly, and tried to stand. Her legs wobbled immediately, forcing her to grip the stall wall.
She rested her forehead against it, eyes closed, breathing hard.
"Just hold on," she whispered. "Just a little longer."
Outside, footsteps passed. Laughter echoed faintly.
No one came in.
Rhea swallowed, steadying herself, and tightened the wrap one more time — harder than before — ignoring the pain that made her gasp.
She would not scream.
She would not call Ling's name.
She would not give anyone else power over this moment.
So she stayed there, bleeding quietly, crying silently, holding herself together with nothing but stubbornness —
alone in a locked stall,
trying to stop something that refused to listen,
paying for love with her body,
and for revenge with her soul.
Ling pushed open the bathroom door without knocking.
The sound echoed.
Too loud.
Too final.
Rhea was there.
Curled against the wall of the stall, skirt stained, hands shaking, eyes red and swollen from crying. She froze the moment she saw Ling — like an animal caught under headlights.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Ling's breath left her in a sharp, broken pull.
"Rhea…" her voice cracked before she could stop it.
Rhea recoiled instantly.
"No—" she whispered, panic flooding her face. "Please don't—don't come close."
Ling took one step forward.
Rhea scrambled backward, her back hitting the wall hard enough to make her flinch. Her hands came up defensively, shaking.
"Please," Rhea cried, tears spilling again. "Please don't touch me. I swear— I don't want to get hurt anymore."
Her voice broke completely.
"It's hurting," she sobbed. "It really hurts."
Ling stopped.
Her body went rigid, like she'd been struck.
She looked down then — really looked.
The blood.
The trembling.
The way Rhea was holding herself together like she might fall apart if Ling breathed too close.
Ling's chest tightened violently.
"I—" Ling tried to speak, but nothing came out right.
Rhea shook her head over and over, tears streaming freely now. "I didn't make a sound," she said desperately. "I didn't tell anyone. I swear. You don't have to do anything else."
Ling's throat burned.
"Do you think…" Ling whispered, voice unsteady, "…that I came here to hurt you again?"
Rhea didn't answer.
She just cried harder.
That silence crushed Ling more than any accusation could have.
Ling sank slowly to her knees in front of her, keeping distance, hands clenched into fists at her sides like she was afraid of them.
"I didn't know," Ling said hoarsely. "I swear to you—I didn't know."
Rhea laughed weakly through tears, shaking her head. "That's the worst part," she whispered. "You didn't even know."
Ling flinched.
Her eyes dropped to Rhea's hands, still pressing desperately, failing.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Ling asked, her voice breaking apart.
Rhea looked at her then — really looked — eyes red, hollow, exhausted.
"Because you didn't want to hear anything from me," she said softly. "And because… I deserve this."
Ling's breath hitched sharply.
"No," she said immediately. "Don't say that."
Rhea closed her eyes, sobbing. "You already think I ruined you. I won. I broke you. What difference does this make?"
Ling reached out instinctively — then stopped herself mid-air, her hand trembling.
"May I?" Ling asked quietly. Not commanding. Not ordering. Asking.
Rhea hesitated, breathing uneven, fear and pain written across her face. Slowly, she nodded.
Ling moved carefully then — slower than she ever had in her life. She took off her jacket and held it out, not touching yet.
"Let me help," she said, voice low and raw. "Please."
Rhea's shoulders collapsed inward as she broke down completely, crying into her hands.
"I didn't want you to see me like this," she whispered. "I didn't want to be weak in front of you."
Ling swallowed hard, tears slipping free now without shame.
"You were never weak," Ling said, voice shaking. "You were just… alone."
She gently helped Rhea wrap the jacket tighter, her movements precise, careful, reverent — like she was handling something fragile she had almost destroyed.
Rhea hissed softly in pain.
"I'm sorry," Ling said instantly, pulling back. "I'm so sorry."
Rhea shook her head. "I don't know how to stop loving you," she cried.
Ling closed her eyes briefly, her forehead lowering until it rested against the stall wall — close, but not touching Rhea.
Rhea tried to push herself up.
Her legs shook the moment she shifted her weight. A sharp wave of pain hit her abdomen and she cried out despite herself, knees buckling again.
"I—I can't—" her voice cracked. "Ling, it's not stopping."
Blood slipped past the makeshift wrap again, dripping down, staining further. Rhea looked down and broke completely.
"It's hurting," she sobbed, clutching Ling's sleeve now without thinking. "It really hurts. I'm trying, I swear I'm trying, but it won't stop."
Ling's heart slammed painfully in her chest.
"Hey—hey, look at me," Ling said urgently, her voice losing all sharpness, all pride. She crouched closer, hands steady even though her insides were shaking. "Don't move. Don't fight it like that."
Rhea shook her head, tears pouring freely. "I didn't want you to see this. I didn't want you to think—"
"Stop," Ling said softly but firmly. "Please stop blaming yourself for one second."
Ling tightened her jacket properly now, carefully but decisively, wrapping it firmer around Rhea's waist, knotting it in a way she'd learned long ago in situations that demanded control.
Her fingers were gentle. Precise. Protective.
"I've got you," Ling murmured, more to herself than to Rhea. "I won't let this get worse."
Rhea whimpered when Ling adjusted it, pain flaring.
"I'm sorry," Ling said instantly, her voice breaking. "I know. I know it hurts."
Rhea's hands trembled as she clutched Ling's shirt, face crumpling. "Please don't leave me," she cried. "Please. I can't be alone right now."
Something inside Ling snapped — not in anger, but in fear.
"I'm not leaving," Ling said immediately, fiercely. "I'm right here."
Before Rhea could try to stand again, Ling slid one arm firmly behind her back and the other under her knees.
Rhea gasped softly as Ling lifted her.
Instinctively, Rhea curled into her, face pressing into Ling's shoulder, sobs shaking her whole body. Blood stained Ling's jacket now, but Ling didn't even notice — or care.
"I've got you," Ling repeated, over and over, like a vow she was afraid to break. "You're safe. You're not doing this alone."
Rhea cried harder in her arms, fists bunching in Ling's shirt. "I never wanted to hurt you," she sobbed. "I never wanted it to be like this."
Ling closed her eyes tightly, jaw clenched, carrying her with steady steps despite the way her own hands trembled.
"I know," Ling whispered hoarsely, even though part of her still hurt, still doubted. "I know… and we'll deal with everything else later."
She adjusted her grip, holding Rhea closer, shielding her instinctively from the world outside the bathroom door.
"For now," Ling said quietly, voice thick with emotion, "just stay with me. That's all I need you to do."
Rhea nodded weakly against her shoulder, tears soaking through Ling's collar as Ling carried her out — no longer cold, no longer distant —
just a woman holding the person she loved,
terrified of what she'd almost lost,
and refusing, for this moment, to let go.
Ling took her straight to her personal room inside the university — the one no one entered without permission. The door slammed shut behind them, cutting the world off.