The night was quiet. The curtains hadn't been drawn fully, allowing the glow of the city to seep through the gap, casting a faint, hazy line across the floor.
Lin woke up in the middle of the night.
The effects of the alcohol had mostly worn off, leaving her head feeling slightly heavy but her mind was sharp and clear. She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds as memories slowly pieced themselves together—the loud music, the dim lights, the question that had hung unanswered in the air, and finally, the image of Yeh standing before her, gently removing her makeup.
That scene was fragmented in her memory, yet incredibly vivid.
She could even recall the sensation—the cool touch of the wet wipe against her skin, the way Yeh's fingers would pause ever so slightly whenever they came near, holding back. It wasn't intimacy, it was proximity held firmly in check.
Lin sat up slowly, leaning back against the headboard, her fingers resting lightly at her temple.
She knew exactly why she had drunk more than usual tonight.
It was because of that one sentence.
"In real life.. I don't like women."
She didn't take it as a casual brush-off. On the contrary, she remembered the pause before Yeh spoke, the way she had leaned in slightly, and that lowered voice.
It wasn't an excuse. It was serious, and that seriousness made it impossible to doubt respond to.
She found herself replaying the details of the evening. The hesitation in Yeh's eyes when she looked at her, as if weighing something, or perhaps deliberately stepping back. The silence that followed the answer, stretching for seconds that felt like hours, no one interrupting, no one filling the void.
It wasn't an awkward silence. It was the temperature dropping.
Yeh hadn't said "No." She had just said—not in real life.
That was far more complicated and harder to handle than a direct rejection. It was like a door that hadn't been closed, yet someone was standing there saying, this place doesn't belong to you.
Lin closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to steady. Suddenly, she realized that her disappointment wasn't just about being rejected.
It was because—even without confirmation, she had already placed Yeh in a position of "possibility." That space wasn't public, nor was it acknowledged; it had just existed quietly within her. But now, it had been gently taken away, without conflict, without explanation, as if it had never been there to begin with.
She recalled the scene where the two girls at the audition earlier that day. They had just stood there, no grand gestures, yet they commanded attention. That chemistry was undeniable, something that required no explanation.
At the time, she had been certain—that was real. But now, for the first time, she doubted her own judgment. Maybe some feelings were just one-sided magnification.
She understood why she had asked the question again. It wasn't a test, nor was it flirting. She just wanted to know and to confirm if that subtle pull she felt was mutual.
And the answer had come quickly, clean, and absolute.
Opening her eyes, Lin looked at the blurred shapes in the dark room, her expression slowly settling back into its usual calm composure.
She told herself:
It's okay.
We are just partners. Yeh was just someone to admire, but not someone to get close to.
Having said that, she pushed the thought away completely. She lay back down and pulled the covers up slightly, tucking that wave of emotion away along with her, letting the night swallow it whole.