Miss Invisible: Ling's Story

Ling clutched at her chest and took a deep breath. It was just her imagination, it had to be. The feminine instincts were acting up again and betraying her mind. This was just... a normality. It was. Shut up, heart.

She hated her own emotions sometimes. Sometimes they were well-behaved. They held up green lights and peace slogans and she was all good. And then suddenly, they were a riot. An extremist protest. A Hong Kong melodrama. And they were there to win a battle. What battle, she'd constantly ask them. But there was never an answer. It was just a battle, and no matter how logical or stupid the cause for the battle was, the emotions had to win it, or they'd give her hell.

Sometimes Ling hated being a girl, because being a girl meant carrying the excess baggage that guys hardly lugged around. And the excess baggage was a few tonnes of hormones.

Today she was particularly hating herself, her heart, her emotions, her hormones. Because before her eyes was something she wish she had not seen. It's all your fault for being nosey, she roared silently.

Her eyes flitted to the sleeping figure behind her. Deep in sleep. That was good. That gave her at least 20 minutes more to calm down before 6pm came and she had to shake that sleeping figure awake.

She looked back at the screen. It was just paranoia. The girly hormones spinning out of control again. Forget it. It's nothing.

But even as she held a poker expression, there were a thousand questions screaming out in her mind. What did all these mean? Was she being held a fool all this while? Did this take place when... when they were having problems? What about all the words of assurance and promise? Were they lies? They could not be!

She breathed in, and then out. Two. Three. Four. She move the cursor over to another program and looked at something else. Today's news. The latest sports scores. Facebook. Anything. Anything at all, to think about something else.

The clock flipped over to 6.02pm. Rigidly she moved over to him and stroked his peaceful face, his soft hair. What was he dreaming of now? Did she want to know?

She wanted to shake him violently and demand an explanation.

Instead, she bent over to kiss his cheek, and he stirred, giving a half-awake grin.

No, she would not give in to those insane assumptions like she always did before. They were probably, most likely, wrong. She knew him. She definitely did. No way she was going to let a few mixed signals lead her down the road of doubt and mistrust. She definitely trusted him.

He opened his arms and she lay in them, clinging on to his chest with her life. Yes, her whole life depended on this: his embrace, his words, his love, him. And he knew it. He would never let her down.

And- And if he did- if what she saw was ringing true to what her heart was insisting - well then, let the truth destroy her later on.