Ling turned away from the pool.
Enough spectacle. Enough noise.
She walked toward the private changing corridor—glass doors sliding open at her presence. Her father's university. Her rules. Her space.
Behind her, the air shifted.
Mira slowed her steps—just half a beat—then stumbled.
"Oops—"
"Sorry—" Mira said softly.
Her hand pressed into Rhea's back.
Rhea didn't have time to react.
She fell.
The splash was loud—wrong—violent.
Water closed over her head.
For a second, everyone laughed.
Then seconds passed.
Rhea didn't surface.
The laughter died.
Rhea struggled beneath the water—arms breaking the surface once, slipping again. She tried to grab the edge, fingers scraping tile, but panic made her movements clumsy. Water filled her lungs faster than thought.
Mira's smile vanished.
Her breath hitched.
This wasn't supposed to go this far.
"Someone—" Mira's voice cracked. "Someone help!"
No one moved.
They never did.
Then Mira screamed—sharp, desperate, real.
"LING!"
Ling heard it.
The sound tore through her like a blade.
She turned—and saw the water churning, empty where a body should be.
Her heart dropped.
Ling didn't think.
She ran.
Shoes abandoned. Towel discarded. She dove fully clothed, clean and brutal, cutting through water with terrifying speed.
She found Rhea at the bottom.
Still.
Eyes closed. Hair floating like dark smoke.
Something in Ling snapped.
She wrapped an arm around Rhea's waist and kicked upward, breaking the surface in one powerful motion. Students scattered as Ling dragged Rhea to the edge and hauled her out.
Rhea collapsed onto the tiles.
Unconscious.
Water streamed from her hair, her lips faintly blue, chest terrifyingly still.
Ling knelt.
Hands steady. Mind racing.
"Rhea," Ling said sharply. No response.
She pressed two fingers to Rhea's neck.
Pulse—weak.
"Breathe," Ling ordered, as if command alone could force it.
Nothing.
Once.
Twice.
Ling pressed down on Rhea's chest—hard, precise.
Again.
Again.
"Don't you dare," Ling muttered, anger bleeding into panic. "Not like this."
Still nothing.
Ling hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Ling Kwong didn't touch people like this.
Didn't cross lines.
Didn't lower herself to vulnerability.
But Rhea's lips were pale. Parted slightly. Too still.
Ling exhaled sharply, leaned down—
Pressed chest.
Once.
Nothing.
She pulled back, jaw tight, pressed again—harder.
Still no response.
Her chest burned.
Her hands trembled—just once.
"Damn you," Ling whispered.
Then She leaned in and as her lips touched Rhea's
The contact hit her like electricity.
Rhea's lips were softer than Ling expected. Warmer. Alive in a way that made her breath stutter despite herself. For a split second, the world narrowed to that impossible sensation—
Then Rhea coughed.
Violently.
Water spilled from her mouth as her body convulsed, lungs dragging in air like it was being stolen back from death.
Ling jerked away instantly, heart hammering, face unreadable.
Rhea gasped, coughing, eyes fluttering open in confusion and shock.
Ling sat back on her heels, fists clenched so tight her nails cut into her palms.
Relief crashed into her—violent, overwhelming, unwelcome.
Mira stood frozen a few steps away, face white.
"Ling—I—" she began.
Ling didn't look at her.
Her eyes were locked on Rhea.
Rhea's gaze slowly focused.
Met Ling's.
And Mira, watching from the side, understood something too late—
She hadn't pushed Rhea into water.
She had awakened something in Lingling Kwong that no one—including Ling herself—could control anymore.