Pong's phone rang as pandemonium erupted online.
Shiphier: "Can you meet me? Room 708, Crown Blue Hotel."
Pong read the message, her heart pounding. She had no idea what to do—but part of her, the part that still yearned for Shiphier, had to go.
She entered the hotel suite cautiously. Shiphier was by the window, turned away from her, arms folded tightly.
Before Pong could speak, Shiphier turned around.
"I wanted to apologize for what I said," she said softly, refusing to look at Pong. "I've been thinking. A lot. And… I was wrong. I judged you. I hurt you."
Pong's lips parted in shock. Her chest filled with a tangled mix of regret and desire.
But then Shiphier's phone buzzed. A message appeared on her screen.
She opened the link, and her eyes widened.
The article.
The headline.
The writer.
She glanced up. Her eyes now cutting, voice shaking with incredulity.
"Pong Parmee Thantimang?" she read the byline out loud as if it was venom. "You wrote this?"
