Yeh had decided long ago that she would come back for Lin's birthday. Before she left, Lin gave her a gift, and their birthdays fell only four days apart. Now it was her turn, and she was fully prepared, though she had said nothing beforehand. She wanted it to happen unplanned, unannounced, simply as it was meant to.
She flew back from Bangkok a day early, and when she opened her door, the house lay quiet, as if someone had stepped out only moments before. The floors were swept, things shifted gently back into place, and even her single water‑grown plant had fresh water, whose surface was clear and unmarked. Yeh paused in the doorway, and knew at once who had been there.
In that moment, something soft and strange settled over her: all the miles between them had never truly severed what was there; some connections went on living, even when she was not around.
At noon the next day, she headed straight to Lin's office without notice. The moment the door swung open, warmth and noise washed over her—balloons, fairy lights, simple, thoughtful touches that softened the usual crisp order of the workplace. Lin sat at the centre with a paper party hat, while Ice held up a camera and others clustered around, laughter rising and falling.
Yeh stood frozen for a moment, taking it all in, until her eyes found Lin.
Lin saw her too. Her movement slowed, the smile was still on her lips yet no longer belonging entirely to the moment just past; her eyes widened a little, as if the light in the room had suddenly brightened.
Ice was the first to speak, grinning. "Yeh! What are you doing here?"
"Just came to see everyone," Yeh replied, with her tone easy and natural, though her gaze never left Lin.
Lin did not step forward at once, only looked back at her across the crowd, as if need to be sure this was real.
Later they all went to a nearby restaurant for lunch, the mood still bright and lively—teasing, toasts, someone taking charge of the order, everything unfolding easily. Yeh sat near the edge, making no effort to sit by Lin, yet she felt Lin's glance drift toward her now and then, but look away again quickly.
Previously Yeh might have instinctively avoided such an occasion, especially with Jing present, uncertain whether she could carry herself with ease. But now she stayed without hesitation. She wanted to see Lin surrounded by people who cared for her, and to be part of this scene, holding a place that needed no special label.
When the cake was brought out, everyone urged Lin to make a wish. She closed her eyes for a second, then smiled and spoke aloud: "I hope we all make a lot of money together."
The room rang with lighthearted cheer.
Yeh raised her glass with the rest, saying little, yet feeling a clear, solid sense of belonging. She kept her own gift tucked away; it was not meant for this crowd.
After lunch, the group wandered back, conversation still flowing but steps slowing. Lin found herself walking beside Yeh, and lowered her voice: "Why did you come back?"
Yeh smiled, looking down. "Had some things to take care of." She paused, then asked, "do you have plans this evening?"
Lin thought for a moment. "There's a video that has to be posted tomorrow. I'll probably be editing late." She said lightly. "We already celebrated at noon anyway."
Yeh made a soft "oh" and asked no more.
"How long are you staying this time?" Lin asked.
"Two days," Yeh said. "There's still work waiting in Bangkok."
A faint shadow crossed Lin's eyes for an instant, quickly smoothed over. "Let me know if you have time."
Yeh nodded.