Miu's POV

The vintage convertible smelled of old leather and the promise of a different life. Lingling drove with one hand on the wheel, the wind whipping her hair into a dark silk storm. She didn't head for the upscale clubs of Sukhumvit or the private lounges where our parents usually brokered their deals. 

Instead, she took the backroads toward the river, where the neon signs were older and the air felt thicker with the scent of spices and history.

"No heels tonight, Miu," she had texted an hour earlier. "If you show up looking like a Vice President, I'm driving away without you."

I was wearing a simple cotton sundress and sneakers. I felt exposed without my blazer as if the tailored fabric were the only thing keeping my spine straight.

"You look like you're about to give a quarterly report to the dashboard," Lingling said, glancing at me with a grin.

"I do not." I countered defensively.

"You do," she insisted. "Your shoulders are up here." She lifted her hand near her ear. "Relax. I promise I'm not secretly recording tonight for my board."

I let out a breath I did not realize I was holding. "I'm not used to not being... presentable."

"For who?"

"For everyone."

"That's not an answer," she said calmly.

I turned toward the window. "In my family, visibility is currency. You're either polished or you're a liability."

Lingling hummed. "And tonight?"

"Tonight I'm a liability in sneakers."

She laughed, soft and genuine. "Good. Those are my favorite people."

I didn't answer her, I just smiled quietly. We continued the drive with comfortable silence.

 Lingling hummed softly along to the radio, something old and nostalgic, and I found myself relaxing in a way that felt unfamiliar. I wasn't being evaluated. No one was waiting for me to say the right thing or make the correct call. There was no expectation beyond showing up. But somewhere between here and there, I couldn't help but glance on my phone waiting to see a familiar name.

"You're checking your phone," Lingling said, her voice teasing but sharp. "If that's a notification from Lena, I'm tossing that device into the Chao Phraya."

"It's just the weather app," I lied, sliding the phone into my bag. The truth was, I was checking for a thank you that I knew would never come.

"Good," Lingling pulled the car to a stop near a bustling night market. The noise was a physical wall of sound, shouted orders, the sizzle of woks, and the rhythmic thumping of music from a nearby stall. "Tonight, we are anonymous. No Taechamongkalapiwat. No Kwong. Just two girls who are hungry."

We spent the first hour weaving through the stalls. Lingling was a whirlwind of energy. She knew every vendor, laughing as she haggled over the price of a grilled squid skewer as if it were a multi-million-baht land deed.

"You're doing it again," Lingling said, handing me a paper bag of crispy pork.

"Doing what?"

"Calculating the ROI of this market," she laughed, leaning against a wooden pillar. "I can see your brain working. You're wondering if the foot traffic justifies the rent. Stop it, Miu. Just eat the pork."

I took a bite, the salt and fat a sudden, grounding explosion of flavor. "It's hard to turn it off, Ling. I've been trained to see everything as a variable since I was six."

"And look where that's gotten you," Lingling said, her expression softening. She led me toward a small carnival-style game at the edge of the market. "You're twenty-four years old and you spent your morning peeling ginger for a woman who thinks a smile is a structural weakness. Don't you want something... easier?"

"I don't know if easy exists in my family," I admitted.

"It does. You just have to choose it." Lingling gestured to the game, a row of bottles and a stack of heavy rings. "If I win you that giant, terrifyingly ugly panda, you have to promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"No talking about work for the rest of the night."

I looked at the stuffed panda. It had one eye slightly higher than the other and a bow tie that looked like it had been through a car wash. It was ridiculous. "Deal."

Lingling cheated. I saw her step over the line twice, and I'm fairly certain she bribed the attendant with an extra hundred-baht note, but when she handed me the oversized plush, I found myself laughing so hard my chest hurt. It was a light, airy feeling I hadn't felt since before Chiang Mai.

We sat on plastic stools by the riverbank, the dark water reflecting the city lights like oil. We shared a cold beer, the condensation dripping down our hands.

"Tell me about London," I said. "Before you were the heir. Who was Lingling back then?"

"She was a rebel with a trust fund," Lingling said, staring at the water. "I used to skip my economics tutors to go to underground punk shows in Camden. I'd come home smelling of cigarettes and cheap beer, and my father would have his security team audit my bank statements to see where I'd been."

"Sounds familiar," I murmured.

"That's why I see you, Miu," she said, turning to me. "I see the girl who is trying so hard to be the perfect foundation for everyone else's house. But who is building your house? Who is making sure you're stable?"

"I'm fine, Ling. I have Mak, and—"

"Mak loves you, but he's part of the structure," Lingling interrupted. She reached out, her fingers grazing my cheek. Her skin was cool, smelling of the jasmine perfume she always wore. "And Lena... Lena is just a wall. A beautiful, architecturally perfect wall. But you can't live inside a wall. You'll suffocate."

"Miu," Lingling's voice dropped, becoming serious. She reached out and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. Her touch was gentle, lacking the frantic heat of Lena's feverish grip. "I meant what I said at the bar. I'm not playing a game. I really want to know you. The girl who likes street food and hates board meetings."

I looked at her, and for a moment, Lena felt like a ghost from a different life. I felt a genuine surge of affection for the woman in front of me. This was the easy path. I could choose this. I could be happy here.

"I like her too," I whispered.

Lingling leaned in, her eyes searching mine for permission. When she kissed me, it wasn't a scandalous display for the cameras. It was soft, tasting of salt and beer, and it felt like a door opening. I kissed her back, waiting for the guilt to hit me, but instead, I just felt... safe. 

Lingling pulled back first, studying my face. "You're thinking again."

"I always think."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

I hesitated. "That this feels... uncomplicated."

She smiled softly. "That's not an insult."

"I know. It's just new."

She reached for my hand, squeezing once. "Miu, I'm not asking you to promise me anything. I just want honesty."

"I can give you that." My voice faltering at the end.

"Good," she said. "Because I don't want to compete with ghosts."

The word hit harder than it should have.

****

The drive back to the estate was peaceful. The city was quiet now, the ridiculous neon lights of the night market fading into the background. Lingling walked me to the gate, the panda tucked under her arm like a trophy.

"So," she said, her eyes twinkling. "Did I pass the test? Or am I still just a variable?"

"You passed," I smiled. "With honors."

"Good. Hold onto that feeling." She kissed my cheek, a soft, lingering promise, and handed me the panda. "I'll call you tomorrow. Don't let the vault swallow you whole, okay?"

"Ling," I said before she could step back into the car.

She turned. "Yeah?"

"If this ever feels like... too much. You can tell me."

Her expression softened. "I know who you are, Miu. I knew before I kissed you. I'm choosing you anyway."

"That's dangerous."

"So is loving people who don't choose you back," she replied gently.

I swallowed.

I watched her drive away, a small smile tugging at my lips. I felt victorious. I had gone out, I had enjoyed myself, and I hadn't thought about the Group for four whole hours.

I walked toward the main house, my sneakers silent on the gravel. But as I passed the library, a flicker of light caught my eye.

I froze.

Through the tall glass windows, I saw the familiar glow of a high-end monitor. Lena was there. She was hunched over the massive mahogany desk, still in the same charcoal-grey suit she'd worn that morning. Her hair was still pulled back in that severe, painful bun.

She looked like a statue, frozen in the act of labor. Around her were rolls of blueprints, three empty espresso cups, and the stark, white light of her tablet.

She wasn't ruining my date. She hadn't called me. She hadn't sent a single text to interfere. She was simply... existing in the cold silence I had escaped.

The victory I felt moments ago curdled in my stomach. I stood there in the dark, clutching the giant, ugly panda, and watched her. She leaned back, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, a gesture of such profound, lonely exhaustion that it made my heart ache.

She was doing exactly what she said she would. She was carrying the weight alone.

I looked at the panda in my arms; a symbol of a fun, easy night, and then at Lena, the woman who made everything difficult. Lingling was a door, but I was still standing outside in the bushes, staring at the wall.

"Just take one step towards me, Lena and I'll do the rest," I whispered to the empty air, echoing my words from the library. It sounded like a plea. A desperate bargain and I know how foolish that is.

I should have gone to my room. I should have dreamt of London punk shows and night markets. But as I turned to walk away, I found myself looking at the side entrance to the library.

I didn't enter. I couldn't. But the fact that I even considered it told me everything I needed to know. The date hadn't been ruined by a scandal or an emergency. It was being ruined by the fact that even when I was being loved by someone else, I was still auditing the loneliness of Lena.

I turned to leave, the weight of the panda feeling heavier by the second, but the sound of a sliding glass door cut through the humid night air.

I stiffened. Lena stepped out onto the library's stone terrace, her silhouette framed by the cold, blue light of the monitors behind her. She looked like a ghost haunting her own life. She was massaging the back of her neck, her eyes closed, taking a breath of the night air as if it were the first time she'd breathed all day.

Then, she saw me.

Her hand dropped from her neck. Her posture snapped back into that rigid, defensive line I knew so well. Even in the shadows, I could see her eyes flick down to my sneakers, my sundress, and finally, the oversized, lopsided panda clutched to my chest.

"You're back," she said. Her voice was thin, stripped of its corporate authority by sheer fatigue.

"I'm back," I replied, standing my ground on the gravel. "It's nearly one in the morning, Lena. Why are you still in my house? The office is closed, and my father and Mak are still in Singapore."

"The guest wing is closer to the airport," she said, though it sounded like a rehearsed excuse. "I have a site inspection at 6:00 AM. Driving back to the Obsidian was an inefficient use of time."

She stepped off the terrace and onto the grass, the hem of her expensive trousers brushing against the dew. She stopped a few feet away from me, her gaze returning to the panda. A small, bitter smile touched the corner of her mouth.

"I see the human element comes in polyester now," she said, nodding toward the toy. "Is that the latest acquisition from the Siriluck Group?"

"It's a prize, Lena. From a night market," I snapped, feeling a hot flush of embarrassment. "Something people do when they aren't obsessed with load-bearing columns. We went to the river. We had street food. We laughed."

Lena's eyes darkened. She looked at the panda again, and for a split second, I saw a flash of raw, unfiltered envy.

"I'm sure it was very... refreshing," she said, her voice dropping to a low, jagged whisper. 

"It was," I said, stepping closer. "Because Lingling doesn't treat me like a variable. She treats me like a person. She doesn't wait for me to get a fever to show me she has a heart."

Lena flinched. The silence that followed was so heavy it felt like it might crack the marble of the estate. She stared at me, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Someone to win you stuffed animals and take you to markets? Someone who makes it... easy?"

"I want someone who wants me back," I whispered, the words tasting like rebellion in the cool night air. "I'm tired of staring at walls, Lena. I'm tired of waiting for you to realize that the foundation you're so worried about is already crumbling because there's no one living inside the house."

Lena took a step toward me, and for a second, the distance between us felt dangerously small. She smelled like the library, old paper, cold coffee, and the faint, lingering scent of the ginger soup I'd fed her yesterday.

"You think this is about what I want?" she asked, her voice sharp and brittle. She looked at the panda in my arms, then back at my face, her eyes narrowing with a clinical sort of disdain. "You think I enjoy standing in here, trying to fix the mistakes of a project that could fail at any moment, while the Vice President is out at night markets playing games?"

"In this family, Miu, no one is ever truly off the clock," she said, her tone regaining that familiar, icy edge. "Every time you're seen in public, you're representing the Group. If the press saw you like this, disheveled, clutching a... a toy—do you have any idea what that does to the narrative of stability we've worked so hard to build?"

"Is that all you see?" I asked, my voice rising. "A threat to the narrative? I had a good night. I felt like a person. Does that even compute in your spreadsheets?"

Lena's jaw tightened. She looked at me, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes, a profound, aching frustration. "What computes is that Lingling Kwong is a variable we cannot control. She's using you to get closer to the Group's plans, and you're letting her because she bought you a polyester bear."

"She's not using me!"

"She is a distraction you cannot afford," Lena snapped, stepping even closer until I could see the dark circles under her eyes. "And I cannot afford to spend my nights wondering if you're going to leak a project detail over a skewer of street food."

"You're not wondering if I'll leak secrets," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You're just mad that I found a way to be happy that has nothing to do with you."

Lena opened her mouth to retort, but the spell broke as her phone buzzed loudly on the library table behind her. The blue light flickered across the blueprints, a cold reminder of the world that owned her.

She immediately stepped back. Whatever raw emotion had been there was paved over with professional concrete.

"It's the site manager," she said, her voice turning flat and distant. "There's a drainage issue with the monsoon runoff. A real problem. Not a carnival game."

"Lena—"

"Go to bed, Miu," she interrupted, turning her back on me and walking toward the glass door. "Enjoy your prize. I have a project to save."

She walked back into the library without looking back. I stood on the gravel, the lopsided panda staring up at me with its one good eye. I had gone on a perfect date. I had been kissed by a woman who wanted to give me the world.

But as I watched Lena pick up her phone and dive back into the blueprints, all I could think was that Lingling was right. Lena wasn't a puzzle to be solved. She was a wall. And to her, I wasn't a partner, I was just another structural risk she had to manage.

I didn't go to sleep immediately. I went to my room, but the air felt too still, too heavy with the ghost of Lena's perfume and the sharp sting of her words. I threw the panda onto my armchair. In the dim light of my bedroom, it looked pathetic—a cheap, lopsided thing that suddenly felt like exactly what Lena called it: a distraction.

I walked to my balcony, looking out over the estate. The library light was still on.

Distraction. Is that all I was? A variable to be managed? A leak to be plugged?

I touched my lips, where Lingling's kiss should have still felt like a promise. Instead, all I felt was the phantom heat of Lena's skin from the night she was sick. It was a sickness, alright. But I was starting to think I was the one who was truly ill.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the text I hadn't sent to Mak.

Me: She's alive. Stubborn as ever. She's staying in the guest wing tonight.

I deleted it. If Lena wanted to be a martyr for the Group, I wasn't going to help her play the part. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, trying to drown out the sound of the world.

Somewhere below me, a woman was saving a project. Somewhere across the city, a woman was waiting to love me. And here I was, caught in the foundation of a house that was built on a lie.

I closed my eyes, but the last thing I saw wasn't Lingling's smile or the night market lights. It was Lena's silhouette against the blue light of a monitor, standing perfectly still, perfectly alone, and perfectly steel.

By 8:00 AM, I was in the back of a car heading to the Group's headquarters. If Lena wanted to play the role of the indestructible Steel Director, then I was going to play the role of the Vice President who didn't have a care in the world.

I chose a dress in a vibrant, defiant shade of emerald, a sharp departure from the muted greys and blacks Lena preferred. I did my makeup with extra care, masking the exhaustion with a glow that looked like it came from a night of romance rather than a night of staring at the ceiling.

When I walked through the lobby, the atmosphere was already buzzing.

"Vice President, these arrived for you," my assistant, Pim, said, her eyes wide as she gestured toward my desk.

It wasn't just a bouquet; it was a structural hazard. A massive, architectural arrangement of white lilies and orchids that took up half my workspace. The scent was intoxicatingly sweet, clashing violently with the sterile, corporate air of the floor.

I pulled the card. "To the girl who looks better in sneakers. Tonight, again? — L."

I felt a surge of triumph. I left the card face-up on the desk.

At 10:00 AM, I walked into the briefing room. Lena was already there, standing at the head of the glass table. She looked as though she hadn't slept a wink, but her suit was pressed to a razor edge. She didn't look at me as I sat down, but I saw her nostrils flare as the scent of the lilies which had clung to my clothes, filled the small room.

"The drainage reports are finalized," Lena began, her voice a cold rasp. "We move to the next phase of the foundation by Friday. Miu, the press release for the Siriluck partnership needs to be—"

She stopped. Her eyes finally landed on me, taking in the emerald dress, the curated glow, and the smirk I didn't bother to hide.

"The press release is ready, Director," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "I'll have Pim send it over after I've finalized my dinner plans."

One of the architects cleared his throat nervously. The tension in the room was a live wire. Lena's hand, resting on the glass table, slowly curled into a fist.

"My office. Now," she said. It wasn't an invitation.

She dismissed the team with a sharp wave of her hand. As the room cleared, the silence became deafening. Lena didn't speak until the door clicked shut.

"What is that?" she demanded, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway where the flowers sat. "This is a place of business, Miu, not a florist's shop."

"They're flowers, Lena. A gesture from someone who knows I exist outside of these four walls," I said, leaning back against the glass table. "Or is there a Group policy against lilies now?"

"It's a provocation," Lena snapped, walking toward me. "Lingling Kwong is marking her territory in my lobby. She's making a mockery of our professional boundaries."

"Maybe she's just making a move," I countered. "Something you wouldn't understand. Not everything is a mockery or a tactic. Sometimes, a girl just gets flowers because she was good company."

Lena exhaled sharply. "You are being naive."

"No," I said. "I'm being human."

"In this family, those are not the same thing."

"That's your rule," I shot back. "Not mine."

Her eyes flashed. "You don't understand what's at stake."

"Then explain it to me," I demanded. "Without a spreadsheet. Without a threat."

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her silence felt louder than any argument.

Lena was inches from me now. "You are being reckless. You are letting her play you like a carnival game, and for what? To spite me?"

"To feel something!" I shouted, the emerald silk of my dress rustling. "To feel anything other than the cold, grey silence of this office! You don't get to audit my heart, Lena. You don't have the clearance."

Lena opened her mouth, her eyes dark with a frustration she couldn't name, but the heavy double doors of the office swung open.

"I'm back!"

Mak strode into the room, looking tanned and energized from the Singapore sun. He stopped, looking between the two of us. He saw my flushed face and Lena's rigid posture.

"Whoa," he laughed, walking over to wrap an arm around Lena's waist. He kissed her temple, and I saw her flinch just a fraction before she forced herself to go still. "Did I walk into a war zone? I saw the flowers on the way in. Miu, those are huge! Our little sister is finally breaking hearts, huh?"

He looked at Lena, his expression softening into that doting, slightly oblivious look he always wore for her. "I told you she just needed to get out more, didn't I, darling? You look stressed. Are you sure you're okay to go to work right now? I can drive you back to the penthouse."

Lena didn't look at him. Her eyes were still locked on mine over his shoulder. The look in them was devastating, a mixture of trapped agony and cold resignation.

"I'm fine, Mak," she said, her voice sounding like it was being pulled through gravel. She didn't move away from his embrace, but she didn't lean into it either. She remained a frozen statue of duty, her gaze still burning into mine. "The project doesn't wait for a fever to subside. I was just telling Miu that... she needs to focus on what's important."

Mak chuckled, oblivious to the subtext vibrating in the air. He squeezed her hip, a gesture of casual intimacy that made my stomach turn. "Always the Director. Even when you're pale as a sheet. But look at these flowers, Lena! Lingling really outdid herself, didn't she? It's perfect for the merger narrative. The two daughters of the most powerful families in the city, getting along."

He turned to me, beaming. "You've done a great job, Miu. Seriously. Keeping Lena steady while I was gone and keeping our rivals close. Papa is going to be thrilled."

"I wasn't doing it for the merger, Mak," I said, my voice tight. I looked at Lena, wanting her to say something.

But Lena simply closed her eyes for a moment, the steel shutters coming down for good. "The flowers are a fire hazard, Miu. Have them moved to the reception lobby. They don't belong on the executive floor."

"Lena, don't be so cold," Mak teased, though he was already checking his watch. "Let her enjoy the romance. Anyway, I have to go brief our father. Dinner tonight at the estate? To celebrate the Singapore deal?"

"I have plans," I said immediately, the lie—or the half-truth, tripping off my tongue. "Lingling is taking me somewhere."

The silence that followed was sharp. Lena's eyes snapped open, and for the first time that morning, the coldness was replaced by a flash of something that looked remarkably like a structural crack.

"Every night, Miu?" Lena asked. Her voice was low, dangerous. "You're becoming quite the specialist in... diversions."

"Maybe I've just realized that some things are worth the distraction," I countered.

Mak laughed, clapping his hands together. "That's the spirit! Go. Enjoy. Lena and I will have a quiet night catching up." He leaned in and kissed Lena again, this time on the lips. It was a slow, possessive kiss, the kind of kiss a man gives a woman he thinks he owns.

I didn't stay to see her reaction. I turned on my heel and walked out, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm against the marble. As I passed my desk, I grabbed the massive bouquet of lilies. They were heavy, cloying, and beautiful.

I didn't move them to the lobby. I carried them all the way to the elevator, the scent of them drowning out the sterile smell of the office.

As the doors began to slide shut, I caught one last glimpse of them through the glass of the executive suite. Mak was talking animatedly, gesturing toward the blueprints, his arm still looped around Lena's waist. Lena was standing perfectly still, her back to me, looking out at the city she was rebuilding.

She looked powerful. She looked indestructible. 

I hit the button for the ground floor, clutching the flowers so hard a stem snapped. I had the date. I had the easy path. I had everything Lingling promised.

So why did it feel like I was the one who had just lost the foundation?

"Get it together," I muttered to my reflection in the mirrored wall.

The woman staring back looked composed. Untouchable. A Vice President who had it all under control.

I didn't recognize her either.