Spreadsheet for Two

Chapter 20: And Everything After

Two months later, nothing and everything had changed.

The office still smelled like bad coffee and printer toner. People still argued over who refilled the water cooler last. Greg now worked in the back corner near the emergency exit—a fate worse than termination, by office standards.

But Ling?

Ling had changed.

She smiled more. Laughed louder. She even corrected the CEO in a board meeting—politely, of course, but still. And she no longer panicked when people asked, "Are you and Orm...?" She didn't hide her coffee mug, the one Tara gave her with a ridiculous cartoon of a cat in a business suit that read 'Purrfessional Finance Wizard.'

She didn't flinch anymore when someone said her name in the same sentence as Orm's. In fact, she kind of liked it.

Because it was true.

She was with Orm.

And it was no longer terrifying to say so—even to herself.

⸻

On a Tuesday afternoon, while Orm was busy trying to decode a set of expense reports clearly generated by a gremlin, Ling wandered into the marketing department, something she never did unless it was an emergency or someone had stolen her stapler.

Lisa from branding looked up and blinked. "Ling. Voluntarily leaving the finance floor? Is this the rapture?"

"I need help," Ling said.

Lisa leaned in dramatically. "Is it fashion help? Because, girl, your scarves scream 'sad librarian who reads murder mysteries.'"

Ling sighed. "I want to plan something for Orm. Something personal. Not flashy. Just... us. You're good with aesthetics and invitations and, I don't know, human interaction."

Lisa clapped. "Is this a confession of love disguised as a team-building activity?"

"I'm ignoring you," Ling said, handing over a notepad. "Here are the ideas."

Lisa skimmed it. "Private movie night. Rooftop picnic. Midnight walk. God, you are such a poet in denial."

Ling flushed. "Is it too much?"

"It's perfect," Lisa said. "I'll help. And for the record? She already looks at you like you put the stars in the sky."

⸻

Friday came fast.

Ling reserved the small company rooftop for the evening—normally reserved for smokers or people pretending to take phone calls. Lisa helped set up string lights, a blanket, a Bluetooth speaker, and a picnic box filled with Orm'st favorite snacks.

And Ling—wearing her best cardigan, of course—waited.

Orm arrived at exactly 6:47 p.m., dressed in that effortlessly elegant way that still made Ling's chest tighten.

"What's all this?" she asked, stepping out onto the rooftop as the sunset painted the sky in soft oranges and purples.

"A thank you," Ling said. "For seeing me. For staying. For making me braver."

Orm walked over slowly, eyes bright. "And here I thought you were just trying to butter me up before Q2 reporting."

Ling laughed, nervous. "There's more."

She pulled out a small envelope from her pocket and handed it over.

Orm opened it, eyebrows raised. Inside was a single ticket to a weekend art retreat outside the city. A quiet, three-day escape for two, surrounded by nature, paint, and silence.

"I don't know if we're ready for vacations together or not," Ling said, voice cracking with nerves. "But I wanted to try. Because... I want more with you."

Orm stared at the ticket, then at Ling.

And then she kissed her.

No hesitation. No lingering fear.

Just warmth. Certainty.

When they pulled apart, Orm leaned her forehead against Ling's and whispered, "You know... I never thought I'd find something like this. But you—this—you're my safest place."

They sat on the blanket together, watching the city slowly light up, laughter and soft music drifting around them.

Later, Ling would think about how far she'd come—from the quiet introvert who avoided eye contact in the office kitchen, to the woman who planned rooftop surprises and whispered "I love you" like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Because now, it was.