Chapter Text
Orm had been dating Lingling Kwong for four months when she called her darling in front of eleven surgeons, three department heads, and Nurse Kanda Rattanaporn. It happened on a Tuesday morning before eight, which Orm later decided should count as a mitigating circumstance.
The weekly surgical meeting had begun badly. Dr. Pravit had banned coffee from the conference table after someone spilled an entire cup across the previous month's operating schedule. Orm had brought one anyway and hidden it beneath her chair, tucked safely between her shoes. Every few minutes, she checked that it was still there. Across the table, Lingling sat with a patient file open in front of her.
She wore a pale blue shirt with the sleeves buttoned at her wrists. Her hair was pulled into the same neat bun she wore for nearly every meeting, and her expression suggested she had never arrived late, misplaced a file, or forgotten that milk expired. Twenty-four minutes earlier, she had stood with Orm beside the elevators and rubbed a faint lipstick mark from Orm's chin with her thumb.
"You put it there," Orm had said.
"That does not make it suitable for a surgical meeting."
"You could have left it."
"No."
Lingling had glanced down the corridor before touching her again. It was quick, almost clinical, except for the way her thumb lingered near the corner of Orm's mouth. Then the elevator doors had opened and Lingling had stepped away as if nothing had happened. Now she barely looked at Orm. That was part of the arrangement.
They were not doing anything prohibited. Lingling worked in trauma surgery, while Orm was a pediatric cardiac surgeon. Neither evaluated the other, set the other's salary, or controlled access to cases. Hospital policy required a disclosure form, not secrecy. Lingling still preferred secrecy.
"People will turn it into entertainment," she had said when they first discussed it.
They had been in Orm's bedroom, sharing one pillow because Lingling disliked the softer one. "People already discuss you," Orm had said.
"They discuss my work."
"They discuss your shoes."
"My shoes are appropriate."
"They call them the funeral shoes."
"They are black."
"All of your shoes are black."
"That does not make them funeral shoes."
Orm had rolled onto her side. "Are you embarrassed by me?" Lingling's face had changed immediately.
"No."
"Then why does it feel like we're hiding?"
"We are private."
"That is not always the same thing."
Lingling had looked at her for a long moment before saying, "I don't want the hospital inside this." Orm had understood. At least, she thought she had. Their relationship was new enough that keeping it quiet felt protective. No colleagues asking intrusive questions. No residents tracking who arrived in whose car. No administrators pretending curiosity was concern.
At work, they were Dr. Kwong and Dr. Kornnaphat. At home, Lingling cooked dinner while Orm sat on the counter and stole ingredients. Orm left her hair ties everywhere. Lingling complained, then began keeping extras in the bathroom, kitchen, and glove compartment.
It worked. Mostly.
"Dr. Kornnaphat."
Orm glanced up. Dr. Pravit stood at the front of the room with one hand resting beside a projected operating schedule.
"Yes?"
"I asked whether pediatric cardiac surgery can accommodate Thursday's change."
Orm checked the screen. Several colored blocks had been moved since the version sent the previous evening. Operating Room Six had been reassigned, two cases had changed floors, and someone had highlighted an electrical inspection in yellow. She had no idea which change he meant. Beside her, Dr. Chanya Srisuk tapped the date with her pen. Orm leaned forward.
"We can manage if Operating Room Six becomes available after noon."
"It won't," Lingling said.
She did not look up from her file. Orm turned toward her. "Why not?"
"Trauma has it until three. The repairs in Operating Room Two were delayed."
"They were meant to finish yesterday."
"They didn't."
"What happened?"
Lingling lifted her eyes. "I did not repair the wiring personally." Chanya looked down at her notes. Her mouth moved as though she were trying not to smile. Dr. Pravit adjusted his glasses.
"Can trauma and pediatric cardiac share Operating Room Four?"
"No," Orm said.
"No," Lingling said at almost the same time.
The room went quiet for half a second. Orm continued. "My patient is six months old. We need the pediatric perfusion equipment in place before induction." Lingling closed the file. "Trauma has a pelvic reconstruction involving orthopedics and vascular surgery. Moving either case after setup would waste more time than it saves."
"One of them may need to be rescheduled," Dr. Pravit said.
Neither woman answered immediately. Orm studied the schedule again. "What about Seven?" Lingling's attention shifted to her.
"The ventilation system was serviced last week."
"It was cleared."
"Provisionally."
"Infection control approved surgical use."
"For shorter procedures."
"My repair should take three hours."
"Your last ventricular septal defect repair took four hours and twelve minutes."
Orm held her gaze. Lingling seemed to realize what she had said only after the room had gone quiet again.
"How do you know that?"
"It was on the board."
"You remember the duration of everything on the board?"
"I remember numbers."
"Only mine?"
Lingling's fingers tightened slightly around her pen. At the end of the table, Kanda glanced up. Orm knew that look. It was the same one Kanda used when a resident insisted a missing instrument had never been opened. A sigh escaped Dr. Pravit. "Dr. Kornnaphat, did you contact infection control?"
"Yes. This morning."
Lingling frowned. "Before the meeting?"
"I knew there might be a conflict."
"You could have mentioned it earlier."
Orm nearly said, You were busy criticizing my breakfast in the car. She stopped herself.
"I did not have the opportunity," she said instead.
"You had twenty minutes."
"I was eating."
"You had a chocolate pastry."
"It still required time."
"You had yogurt at home."
"It expired."
"Yesterday."
"Which means it was expired."
Dr. Pravit placed both palms on the table.
"We are not discussing Dr. Kornnaphat's refrigerator."
Orm straightened. "No." Lingling looked back at her file. "No."
"Written approval from infection control," Dr. Pravit said. "If Seven is cleared, pediatric cardiac can use it. Trauma keeps Six."
Orm nodded and reached for her blue patient folder. It was not there. She looked beneath the printed agenda, then beside Chanya's tablet.
"What did you lose?" Chanya whispered.
"The cardiac conference file."
"You came in carrying a green one."
"I had both."
Across the table, beside Lingling's hand, sat two folders. One green. One blue. Orm remembered entering the room from the side door. She had paused near Lingling's chair while answering a question from one of the fellows. Lingling had moved to the opposite side of the table before anyone could notice they had arrived within seconds of each other.
Orm must have left the folder behind. She held out her hand without thinking.
"Darling, can you pass me the blue folder?"
No one moved. The silence did not feel gradual. It simply appeared. Orm kept her hand extended. Lingling looked at her. A faint flush rose above the collar of her shirt.
"That is not my name, Dr. Kornnaphat."
Orm's mind emptied. Somewhere beside her, Chanya inhaled very slowly. Kanda lowered her eyes to her notebook. Her shoulders shifted once. Orm suspected she was laughing.
"I know," Orm said.
Lingling passed the folder across the table. Their fingers did not touch. Dr. Pravit cleared his throat. "The next item is the charity outreach schedule." The meeting resumed, or at least attempted to.
Orm opened the file and stared at the first page. She recognized her own handwriting but could not remember what any of it meant. Her face felt warm. So did her ears. She could sense people carefully avoiding looking at her, which was worse than if they had openly stared. Chanya was openly staring. Orm picked up her pen.
"Don't," she whispered.
"I haven't said anything."
"You're about to."
"Did you just call Dr. Kwong darling?"
"No."
"I was sitting beside you."
"I was on the phone."
Chanya lowered her gaze. Orm's phone lay faceup on the table between them, the screen dark. Orm moved it into her pocket.
"It was an earlier call."
"You answered an earlier call during the meeting?"
"It was complicated."
"With whom?"
"My mother."
"Your mother's name is Malinee."
"I know her name."
"Do you call her darling?"
"Sometimes."
Chanya's expression remained perfectly serious. Orm's gaze moved to the screen. "You should pay attention."
"This is far more interesting."
Across the table, Lingling sat too straight. Her pen rested exactly parallel to the edge of her folder. She had not moved it in several minutes. Orm knew that posture. Lingling used it whenever she wanted to appear unaffected and was working very hard not to be. The rest of the meeting lasted forty minutes.
Orm counted every one. When Dr. Pravit assigned Lingling and Orm to collaborate on an emergency protocol, Kanda looked briefly toward the ceiling. When the communications director mentioned staff members bringing partners to the upcoming charity gala, Chanya shifted in her chair. Lingling did not look at Orm again.
The moment the meeting ended, people began gathering papers and speaking in small groups. Orm moved quickly, hoping to escape before anyone found the courage to ask a question. Chanya remained seated.
"Don't you have a case?" Orm asked.
"Not until ten."
"Then you should prepare."
"I already did."
"Prepare again."
Chanya folded her arms. "Are you sleeping with Dr. Kwong?" Orm dropped her pen. It rolled beneath the table.
"No."
The answer came out too sharply. Chanya's eyebrows rose.
"I meant, why would you ask me that?"
"That is not what you said."
Orm crouched to retrieve the pen. "I have my own apartment."
"That also doesn't answer the question."
"We are colleagues."
"You called her darling."
"People make mistakes."
"She knows what food is in your refrigerator."
"Lingling notices things."
Chanya became very still. Orm closed her eyes.
"Dr. Kwong," she corrected.
"You called her Lingling."
"I know her first name."
"So do I. I don't use it while defending how much she knows about my yogurt."
Orm stood and placed the pen inside her folder. "You are inventing a story."
"You are giving me most of it."
A shadow fell over the table. Kanda stood beside them holding Lingling's white coat.
"Kanda," Orm said. "Good morning."
"Dr. Kornnaphat."
Orm tried to read her expression and found nothing. Kanda had worked in trauma for more than twenty years. She could remain calm through massive transfusions, screaming relatives, and surgeons arguing over operating rooms. Orm had never seen her lose control of her face. Chanya stood. "I should review my anesthesia plan."
"Yes," Orm said. "Thoroughly."
Chanya left but looked over her shoulder on the way out. Kanda draped Lingling's coat over one arm.
"She forgot this."
"That is unusual."
"It is."
"Perhaps she was distracted."
"Perhaps."
Kanda glanced at the door Lingling had used. Then she looked back at Orm. Orm waited. Kanda said nothing.
"About the blue folder," Orm began.
"You needed it."
"Yes."
"Dr. Kwong passed it to you."
"She did."
"A straightforward professional exchange."
Orm relaxed slightly. "Exactly." Kanda nodded.
"Most surgeons manage it without terms of endearment."
Orm shut her eyes. "I was tired."
"That would explain several things."
"It was an accident."
"I assumed so."
"You don't think anything strange is happening?"
"I have worked in trauma for twenty-two years. My definition of strange is broad."
"That is reassuring."
"It was not meant to be."
Kanda walked away carrying the coat. Orm remained beside the table, holding two folders and what remained of her dignity. Her phone vibrated.
Lingling: My office. Ten minutes.
Orm stared at the message. No greeting. No explanation. Only the period, which somehow made it worse. She typed: Orm: Is this a professional meeting? Three dots appeared, disappeared, then returned. Lingling: Yes. Orm smiled despite herself. Orm: Should I bring the blue folder? No answer. She added: Orm: Darling?
The typing dots did not return. Lingling's office door was closed when Orm arrived eleven minutes later. Orm knocked.
"Come in."
Lingling stood beside the window without her white coat. Sunlight crossed one side of her face. The redness near her ears had faded, though not entirely. Orm closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry."
Lingling looked at her. "I did not mean to call you darling."
"That is reassuring."
"At work," Orm added.
"Less reassuring."
"It slipped out."
"Yes."
"I was distracted."
"By a folder."
"It was an important folder."
Lingling crossed her arms. Orm stopped herself from smiling.
"I apologized."
"You also sent me an inappropriate message."
"That message was private."
"It was evidence."
"No one reads your phone."
Lingling glanced toward the door. "Kanda may know."
"Kanda definitely knows."
"She suspects."
"She followed us with her eyes all the way out of the meeting."
"That is not proof."
"It is enough for Kanda."
Lingling walked around the desk and checked the lock. Orm watched her.
"You locked the door."
"So we can speak without interruption."
"Of course."
"Do not start."
"I haven't started anything."
"That is rarely comforting."
Orm noticed two coffees on the desk. One black. One pale and sweet. She picked up the second cup.
"You bought this?"
"The café made an extra."
"It has my name on it."
The cup said ORM in thick black marker. A small heart had been drawn beneath the final letter. Lingling looked at it.
"The cashier knows your order."
"She drew a heart."
"That may be part of the café's branding."
Orm turned Lingling's cup around. There was no heart. Lingling frowned at it. Orm laughed.
"This is not funny."
"It is a little funny."
"We agreed to be careful."
"I know."
"Four months without anyone knowing, then you called me darling during a meeting."
"You quoted the exact length of my last operation."
"That was clinically relevant."
"It was not."
"It supported my argument."
"You remember my cases."
"I remember many cases."
Orm took a drink of coffee. "Name the duration of Dr. Kiet's last appendectomy." Lingling said nothing. Orm smiled into the cup.
"That is what I thought."
Lingling sat behind her desk. Orm lowered herself into the chair opposite.
"Does it really matter if Kanda knows?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because we agreed to keep this private."
"That is the agreement. It is not the reason."
Lingling looked toward the window. Orm knew better than to push too quickly. Lingling's silences were not empty. They were usually crowded with words she did not yet trust herself to say. Orm set down the coffee.
"I am not asking to tell everyone," she said. "I like having something that belongs only to us."
Lingling looked back at her. "Do you?"
"Yes."
"You seemed amused."
"I was embarrassed. Then I became amused."
"Those are different things."
"They can happen together."
Lingling's expression softened slightly. "I am not ashamed of you," she said.
"I know."
"I need you to believe that."
"I do."
Lingling looked unconvinced. Orm leaned forward.
"I know you are not ashamed of me. I also know that when you are frightened, you make rules."
"I am not frightened."
"You made a schedule for how we should leave the hospital."
"That is practical."
"You included two separate exits."
"There are cameras near the main entrance."
Orm blinked. "You checked?" Lingling looked down at her open file.
"Yes."
Orm tried not to laugh again. "What are today's instructions?"
"You finish at six."
"Probably."
"I finish at six fifteen."
"That is very convenient."
"You should leave through the main entrance at six ten and wait near the pharmacy."
"For ten minutes?"
"There is a bench."
"How romantic."
"It is not meant to be romantic."
"That never stops it."
Lingling's mouth shifted. Orm stood.
"Are we finished?"
"Yes."
"Then may I kiss you?"
"No."
"You locked the door."
"We are still at work."
Orm walked around the desk. Lingling watched her approach.
"No," she repeated.
Orm stopped in front of her. "I haven't touched you."
"You are planning to."
"Maybe."
"You should go."
Lingling's eyes dropped to Orm's mouth. Orm gave a faint smile.
"You're staring."
"I am waiting for you to leave."
One of Lingling's hands had caught the edge of Orm's sleeve. Orm looked down. Lingling released it immediately. Neither spoke for a moment. Then Orm leaned closer, not enough to kiss her.
"I'll see you at six twenty."
"Six ten at the pharmacy."
"Right."
"Do not be late."
"Yes, darling."
Lingling looked up. Orm left before she could respond. At six ten, Orm walked through the main entrance carrying her handbag, two folders she was not supposed to take home, and half a chocolate pastry in a paper bag. Several staff members waited near the curb.
Chanya stood among them. She noticed Orm immediately.
"Going home?"
"That is usually what happens after work."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
Chanya turned to the hospital doors. Orm ignored her and continued toward the pharmacy entrance. The bench was occupied by an elderly man reading a newspaper, so she stood beside a planter instead. At six nineteen, Lingling's black car approached.
She was always early. She stopped near the curb and reached across to open the passenger door. Orm looked over her shoulder. Chanya had followed.
So had Dr. Narin Chaisomboon, who was staring at his phone without moving his thumb. Kanda stood beneath the awning. Watching. Orm opened the car door.
"Dr. Kwong," she said loudly. "How unexpected."
Lingling met her gaze. "You asked me for a ride because your car would not start."
Orm's smile tightened. "Yes. Of course. Thank you for assisting a colleague."
"Get in."
Orm climbed inside and closed the door. Lingling pulled away from the curb. For half a block, neither spoke. Then Orm turned toward her.
"That was terrible."
"You said it was unexpected."
"I panicked."
"You were supposed to wait by the pharmacy."
"I did."
"You were beside the planter."
"The bench was occupied."
"You could have gone inside."
"And pretended to shop for ten minutes?"
"You could have bought something."
"That would have made the plan expensive."
Lingling stopped at a red light. Orm looked through the rear window. Kanda's car waited behind them.
"Kanda is following us."
"She lives in this direction."
"She does not."
Lingling checked the mirror. Kanda lifted one hand from the steering wheel in greeting. Orm waved back weakly. The light changed.
Lingling turned left. Kanda turned left. At the next intersection, Lingling turned right. Kanda did the same.
"She is definitely following us."
"She may have changed her route."
"Three times?"
Lingling's mouth tightened. Orm began to laugh.
"This is your fault," Lingling said.
"I know."
"You seem pleased."
"A little."
They reached the road leading toward Orm's apartment. Lingling signaled for the underground garage. Kanda continued straight. As she passed, her window lowered.
"Good night, doctors."
"Good night," Lingling answered.
Orm leaned across the console. "Kanda." The nurse slowed.
"Yes, Dr. Kornnaphat?"
"You live in the other direction."
Kanda watched Lingling, then at Orm. "Yes."
She drove away. Orm fell back against her seat.
"She knows."
Lingling rested her forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. "She knows."
"Are you worried?"
Lingling sat up and drove into the garage. "No."
"No?"
"She has known since this morning and said nothing."
"She followed us for fun."
"Yes."
"I respect that."
"You respected her before."
"More now."
Lingling parked. The engine went quiet. Orm did not remove her seat belt immediately.
"No one else can know yet," Lingling said.
"All right."
Lingling turned toward her. "Are you certain?"
"Yes."
"You do not have to agree because I want it."
"I'm not."
Orm rested one elbow against the center console. "I like that we have a life no one at the hospital gets to examine. I like going home with you and knowing they don't know what you are like there."
"What am I like there?"
Orm pretended to think. "Controlling."
Lingling's eyes narrowed. "Domestic."
"That is not a personality."
"Soft."
"No."
"You own six blankets."
"The apartment becomes cold."
"You tuck me in when I fall asleep on the sofa."
"You complain if your feet are cold."
"You cut strawberries into hearts."
"That happened once."
Orm smiled. "I know you are not hiding me because you are embarrassed. But I reserve the right to call you darling inside this car."
"That seems unnecessary."
"Darling."
"Orm."
"Darling."
Lingling reached across the console, cupped Orm's face, and kissed her. It was not a careful kiss. Not entirely. When Lingling pulled back, Orm was smiling.
"Very professional."
"We are no longer at the hospital."
"We are still in the parking garage."
Lingling removed the keys. "Then stop talking before someone sees us." Orm unfastened her seat belt and followed her out. Lingling had already reached the elevator when she stopped and looked back. Orm's handbag remained on the passenger seat. Lingling returned to the car and brought it to her.
"Thank you."
Orm took the bag. "Darling."
Lingling pressed the elevator button. "You are testing the limits of my patience."
"You adore me."
The elevator arrived. Lingling stepped inside. Orm joined her. For a beat, Lingling watched the numbers above the door.
Then she said quietly, "Yes." Orm's smile softened. The doors closed. Neither noticed the pale cat hair clinging to the shoulder of Lingling's black shirt or the matching strands on Orm's trousers. Kanda would notice both in the morning.