Rhea stood at the doorway.
She hadn't meant to be there.
She hadn't meant to hear anything.
But she had.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, knuckles pale. Her face was calm in the most dangerous way the kind of calm that came after something inside had already shattered.
Ling turned.
For the first time that day, her expression broke completely.
Her eyes widened.
Her breath caught.
Rhea had heard everything.
Rowen noticed first. "Sh—"
Jian followed his gaze and went still.
Rina's smile vanished instantly.
Rhea didn't speak yet. She didn't need to. Her eyes moved from Ling to Jian to Rowen slowly, deliberately, memorizing faces.
Rowen stepped forward too fast. "Rhea, listen, you didn't hear it right—"
Rhea's glare snapped to him like a whip.
Rowen shut up immediately.
Jian swallowed. "It's not what it sounds like."
Rhea finally spoke, her voice low, steady, terrifyingly controlled.
"Move."
No one did.
Ling took a step back without realizing she was doing it.
"Rhea—" Ling started.
Rhea looked at her.
Just at her.
The air seemed to thin.
"Where," Rhea asked quietly, "are my things?"
Ling's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
"I—" Ling stammered, her voice cracking despite herself. "I-I don't know about anything."
Rhea tilted her head slightly. "Say that again."
Ling swallowed hard. "I don't… I didn't… do anything."
Her lie was weak. Unsteady. Obvious.
Rhea's gaze slid sideways. "Jian."
Jian flinched. "I—"
Rhea didn't raise her voice. She didn't move closer.
She didn't need to.
"Where," she repeated, "are my things."
Jian glanced at Ling.
That was all it took.
Rhea laughed — once. A short, broken sound that didn't belong to humor.
"So that's how it is."
Rowen rushed in. "Look, maybe throwing them wasn't the right call but—"
Rhea turned on him so sharply he stepped back instinctively.
"Don't," she said. "You don't get to speak."
Her eyes returned to Ling.
Ling was shaking now. Not visibly but it was there, in the way her shoulders had gone rigid, in the way her hands curled into fists as if holding onto something already gone.
"I swear," Ling said hoarsely, "I didn't know. I thought—"
"You thought," Rhea cut in, "that my pain was inconvenience."
Ling shook her head frantically. "No. I thought you hated them."
Rhea stepped forward.
Ling stepped back again.
"You saw me cry," Rhea said, voice trembling now despite her control. "And you decided what that meant. You decided for me."
Ling whispered, "I was trying to fix it."
Rhea's eyes burned. "By erasing it?"
Silence.
Jian looked down.
Rowen looked away.
Rina didn't move her face tight, jaw clenched.
Rhea's voice dropped to something raw and breaking.
"Those weren't gifts," she said. "They were proof."
Ling frowned, confused. "P...p...roof?"
Rhea stared at her like she couldn't believe the question.
"That you meant something," Rhea said. "That you stayed awake. That you tried."
Ling's breath shuddered.
Rhea took another step forward this time Ling didn't retreat.
"Where," Rhea said, every word cutting deep, "did you throw them."
Ling's eyes filled.
"I—" Her voice broke completely now. "I told him to get rid of the bag."
Rhea closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, something final had settled there.
"You don't get to chase me anymore," Rhea said softly. "You don't get to fix this. You don't even get to apologize."
Ling reached out instinctively. "Rhea—"
Rhea slapped her hand away.
"Play your match," Rhea said coldly. "Destroy yourself if you want. But don't pretend you don't know what you destroyed today."
She turned.
Rowen tried once more. "Rhea—"
She didn't even look back.
The door slammed behind her.
Ling stood frozen, chest heaving, eyes locked on the empty doorway.
Rina whispered, "Ling…"
Ling didn't respond.
She dragged both hands through her hair hard, fingers scraping her scalp like she was trying to rip the thoughts out.
"Ughhh!—" she groaned loudly, pacing once, then stopping abruptly. "What do women even want?"
No one laughed.
Ling threw her head back dramatically, voice sharp, exaggerated — forcing humor where panic had begun to creep in.
"Most complex thing everrrrr!" she scoffed. "One moment she's furious, next moment she's crying, then she wants distance, then she wants words, then she hates the words—"
She turned in a sharp circle, pointing vaguely at the air.
"Make up your damn mind."
Rowen leaned against the bench, arms crossed now, expression unreadable.
"You're talking like this is abstract."
Ling shot him a glare. "It is abstract. No logic. No pattern."
Rina didn't smile. She watched Ling carefully.
"You're not confused," Rina said slowly. "You're scared."
Ling froze for half a second.
Then she laughed loud, dismissive.
"Scared? Please."
Jian spoke quietly, not meeting Ling's eyes.
"She asked where the things were. Not why you did it."
Ling snapped, "Because it doesn't matter."
Rina stepped forward. "It mattered to her."
Ling rubbed her face hard with both hands.
"I gave her attention. I gave her time. I gave her words. I gave her space when she asked. I stopped when she pushed. I chased when she ran."
Her voice rose with each sentence.
"So what exactly was the correct answer, huh?"
Rowen exhaled. "Maybe none of that. Maybe she wanted you to not decide for her."
Ling scoffed again, but it sounded thinner this time.
"She can't even decide herself."
Rina's voice sharpened. "Neither could you. That's the problem."
Ling turned away, shoulders tense.
"I don't have time for this."
She grabbed her captain band, yanking it on with unnecessary force.
"I have a match," she said coldly. "That's something that makes sense."
Jian muttered, "You're running."
Ling spun. "I'm playing."
Rina didn't argue anymore. She just watched Ling lace her boots like she was strapping armor onto something already cracked.
As Ling headed toward the tunnel, she threw one last line over her shoulder — half-joke, half-defense:
"I swear, women are impossible."
But the locker room stayed silent.
Because everyone there knew the truth Ling was refusing to say out loud:
It wasn't women.
It was Rhea.
And Ling didn't understand her because understanding her meant admitting she had already lost control.
———
The stadium roared.
Chants rose and crashed like waves, Ling Kwong's name echoing from every corner feared, worshipped, expected. To the crowd, she looked the same as always: tall, sharp, controlled, predatory in motion.
No one noticed the slight delay in her breath.
No one noticed the way her shoulders tightened a second longer than usual before each sprint.
Ling stepped onto the field carrying two nights without sleep inside her body. Her muscles responded, but slower. Her vision sharpened and blurred in waves. Her jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Doesn't matter, she told herself.
Pain listens to me.
The whistle blew.
Ling moved.
She played aggressively too aggressively. Every tackle was harder than necessary, every sprint pushed past reason. She didn't pace herself. She attacked the field like it owed her answers.
From the stands, it looked like dominance.
From inside her body, it felt like punishment.
Rhea sat several rows up.
Not beside Roin.
She had deliberately chosen Zifa's side, her posture rigid, arms crossed, eyes fixed forward. Roin sat a little away now close enough to see her, far enough to know he was not wanted.
Rhea's gaze never softened.
Every time Ling took the ball, Rhea's jaw tightened. Her anger burned hot and focused not loud, not visible, but sharp enough to hurt.
Zifa glanced at her once.
"You okay?"
Rhea didn't look away from the field.
"Hmm."
Zifa said nothing.
Below them, Ling slid across the turf, stole the ball, drove forward. Applause erupted.
Rhea felt nothing resembling pride.
Only a bitter thought clawed through her chest:
She can destroy me and still be worshipped.
By the second half, Ling's legs burned in a way they shouldn't have. Her lungs pulled in air that didn't feel sufficient. Sweat soaked through her jersey, cold against overheated skin.
She missed a timing barely.
Recovered immediately.
No one noticed.
But Ling noticed.
Her heartbeat thundered too loud in her ears, drowning out the crowd. For a split second, as she ran, her vision flickered Rhea's face flashing instead of the field.
Focus.
She slammed into an opposing player harder than necessary, earning cheers and a sharp whistle warning.
Ling didn't even look at the referee.
Her eyes lifted instinctively toward the stands.
She found Rhea.
Not looking at her.
Rhea's face was turned slightly away, chin lifted, attention seemingly elsewhere as if Ling's presence on the field meant nothing.
That hurt more than the exhaustion.
Ling's lips pressed into a thin line.
Fine, she thought.
Watch me anyway.
She played faster.
Reckless.
Rhea saw it.
The stiffness.
The lack of rest hidden under brute force.
The way Ling was forcing her body past its limit.
Anger twisted into something darker.
Good, Rhea thought cruelly.
Let it hurt.
She leaned back slightly, breaking the line of sight, deliberately denying Ling whatever attention she might have been seeking.
Zifa noticed.
"You don't have to stay."
Rhea snapped quietly, "I didn't come for her."
It was a lie.
Zifa shifted uncomfortably but stayed silent.
On the field, Ling scored.
The stadium exploded.
Ling didn't celebrate.
She stood still for a second too long, chest rising hard, eyes empty and for just a moment, the mask slipped.
Rhea saw it.
And instead of satisfaction, something sharp pierced her chest.
It happened without warning.
One second Ling Kwong was sprinting, forcing her body forward on pure will the next, the field tilted violently.
The white lines smeared into one another. The noise of the stadium stretched, warped, then dulled. Her heartbeat slammed once too loud then skipped.
Ling slowed.
Her steps went uneven.
Someone shouted her name.
She didn't hear it.
Her head tilted slightly, eyes losing focus, body still moving out of habit even as consciousness slipped away.
Then—
Thud!!
Ling hit the ground hard.
Flat. Still.
For half a second, the stadium didn't understand what it had just seen.
Then panic erupted.
The cheers died mid-breath.
People stood up abruptly.
Voices overlapped.
Phones lowered instead of raised.
On the field, players froze.
A whistle shrieked sharp, urgent.
"Kwong—!"
"Hey—!"
"Medic!"
Ling didn't move.
Her body lay unnaturally still against the grass, one arm bent wrong beneath her, hair spread across the turf. Her chest rose barely.
Rhea's world narrowed.
The moment Ling fell, something inside her snapped not emotionally, not gently, but violently.
Her eyes went wide.
"No—"
The word left her before she realized she'd spoken.
She was already moving.
She didn't think.
Didn't hesitate.
Didn't care who saw.
She shoved past Zifa, ignored Roin's startled call of her name, ignored the security shouting for people to stay back.