Chapter 6
Back at home, Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Chankimha were lounging in the living room, scrolling through holiday photos and videos of Freen and Becky. The more they watched, the harder it became to contain their happiness.
“Wow,” Mr. Armstrong mused, smiling fondly. “They look so perfect together.”
“So true,” Mr. Chankimha agreed. “Like two puzzle pieces fitting together.”
“Aren’t they always like that? They’ve spent so much of their lives together—they must know each other like the back of their hands.”
“Yeah…” Mr. Chankimha sighed. “If only they didn’t hate each other. They’d be married by now.”
Both men fell silent.
And then—almost in sync—they turned to look at each other.
The thought of Freen and Becky married sent a burst of excitement through them. Fireworks practically lit up their eyes.
“I’ve always seen Freen as my own daughter,” Mr. Armstrong said, his voice warm with admiration. “She’s such a charming soul. Oh, how I wish she could be my daughter-in-law.”
Mr. Chankimha’s eyes widened, his heart swelling with hope. “Wow. I want Becky to be my—” He coughed. “I mean, my son—no, my daughter-in-law too. I want to have her as my daughter.”
They both sighed in unison.
“But what can we do?” Mr. Armstrong frowned. “It’s impossible. The level of hatred they have for each other is so frustrating sometimes.”
“I know!” Mr. Chankimha groaned. “But then why did they get caught kissing? Are we missing something?”
A long pause.
And then—an idea sparked.
“Well,” Mr. Armstrong said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe their best buddies know what’s really going on. Maybe they can tell us if there’s even the slightest chance—”
“Even if there’s just 0.0001% of a chance,” Mr. Chankimha interrupted, suddenly determined, “we have to take it.”
“YES!” Mr. Armstrong clapped his hands together. “Let’s set up a meeting with Nam and Kirk.”
“Great idea! I’ll call them right now.” Mr. Chankimha grabbed his phone, his fingers shaking with excitement.
This wasn’t just a plan.
It was a mission.
And they were not going to let it fail.
The Next Day – Head Office
Nam and Kirk sat nervously in the head office, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Neither of them knew why they were called in, but judging by the serious expressions on Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Chankimha’s faces, it couldn’t be good.
“Relax, you two look like a bomb’s about to explode,” Mr. Armstrong said, amused.
Nam and Kirk exchanged awkward smiles.
Mr. Chankimha leaned forward. “We called you here to understand something. To gain a little… perspective.” He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“About Freen and Becky.”
Nam and Kirk immediately tensed.
Mr. Armstrong continued, “You two have been friends with them for what—five, six years now? Since college and now here in the corporate world. If anyone knows them best, it’s you.”
Nam and Kirk exchanged glances. Where was this going?
“For the sake of this company’s sanity—and our own—we need to know,” Mr. Chankimha said. “What exactly is their equation?”
Nam gulped. Kirk sat straighter.
“We know they claim to hate each other,” Mr. Chankimha continued. “But then why were they caught kissing? And we’ve heard this ridiculous office rumor that they’re possessive of each other. What’s that nonsense?”
Kirk exhaled sharply, while Nam shifted in her seat.
“Honestly, sir… we don’t know either.” Nam hesitated before adding, “They care for each other, but in a suspicious way—like they don’t want to admit it. It’s rare, but sometimes they’ll look out for each other silently. Could just be because they’ve spent so much of their lives together. They’re practically family at this point.”
“Uh-huh.” Mr. Armstrong nodded. “And the possessiveness?”
Kirk finally spoke up.
“They’re each other’s target and territory, sir,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “If anyone else tries to cross that line—if a third person comes into the picture—let’s just say their rage is… something else. They make it very clear that the person should stay away.”
A slow grin spread across Mr. Chankimha’s face. Mr. Armstrong’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“So,” Mr. Chankimha mused, “they secretly care for each other… and get possessive like they already own each other? That’s sweet.”
Nam’s eyes widened. “Oh no no no, sir!” she quickly objected. “Please don’t go there! If they ever got the chance, they’d kill each other, no doubt. You’ve only seen some of their fights. We see it daily. Their hatred is way too much.”
Mr. Armstrong leaned back, smirking. “Alright lads, we got what we needed. You two can go now.”
Nam and Kirk wasted no time standing up, eager to leave.
Just as they reached the door, Mr. Chankimha added, “Oh, and don’t let them know we asked about them. Otherwise, you can say goodbye to your jobs.”
“Very well, sir,” Kirk said, giving a thumbs-up.
Nam just nodded before the two practically stormed out.
Behind them, Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Chankimha exchanged knowing looks.
This was getting interesting.
“We have to do something,” Mr. Armstrong declared, pacing the room.
“Yes,” Mr. Chankimha agreed, nodding. “They have this… essential emotion for each other. If we just figure out where to hit, we could turn it into something more.”
“Let’s set some cheesy baits to trap them into confessing—whatever the hell it is they feel,” Mr. Armstrong suggested, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Mr. Chankimha crossed his arms. “And how exactly do we do that?”
A slow smirk spread across Mr. Armstrong’s face.
“Simple. We let someone else cross their so-called territory. Not just cross it, but take really good care of them—push their caring nature and possessiveness to the limit with a third party.”
Mr. Chankimha’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I know just the right people.” asHe always had his ears to office rumors and content to know the sanity and decorum of the office environment.
Mr. Armstrong raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Kade for Freen. Kirk for Becky,” Mr. Chankimha said, laying out the plan like a master strategist.
“Ohhh…” Mr. Armstrong’s eyes widened. “But aren’t they already a couple?”
“Not publicly. And with them, our kids will be in safe hands,” Mr. Chankimha reassured. “We just need to bring them in on the plan.”
Mr. Armstrong grinned. “Very well then. We’ll keep at it until we know for sure that Freen and Becky don’t have even the tiniest feelings for each other.”
With that, he held up a hand.
Mr. Chankimha smirked and high-fived him.
“Let’s do this. Mission FBPFK begins now!!”
_____
The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing at Celestia Luxe, one of the most extravagant clubs in the city. The moment guests stepped inside, they were greeted by shimmering chandeliers, golden accents reflecting off polished marble floors, and an electric buzz of celebration in the air. A massive LED-lit dance floor pulsed with vibrant colors, synchronized to the DJ’s beats, while bartenders at the sleek, backlit counter crafted dazzling cocktails with effortless flair.
Laughter and chatter filled the space, a collective sigh of relief from employees who had spent the past months tirelessly working on their projects. Tonight, deadlines and office stress were forgotten—replaced by clinking glasses, celebratory toasts, and the carefree energy of a night meant for indulgence.
Away from the crowded dance floor, the FreenBecky group had claimed a prime spot on the club’s exclusive balcony. The open-air terrace overlooked the city skyline, where the distant hum of traffic mixed with the club’s bass-heavy music. Above them, the sky stretched vast and endless, scattered with soft stars, while the crisp night breeze carried the scent of fresh cocktails and faint traces of expensive cologne.
Seated around the sleek glass table, the group was immersed in light conversation, the mood relaxed but charged with an underlying anticipation. Becky swirled her drink absentmindedly, while Freen leaned back in her chair, eyes flitting between the party below and the familiar faces around her. The setting was perfect—a blend of intimacy and festivity, making it the ideal place for Kade and Kirk to step in and set the plan into motion.
Kade and Krik had been fully briefed on their roles, their participation secured with enticing incentives they couldn’t refuse. They understood the assignment—push the limits of Freen and Becky’s so-called indifference, test their patience, and stir emotions that neither of them was willing to acknowledge. And what better place to kickstart this scheme than the grand New Year’s Eve party, where celebration blurred the lines between reality and impulse?
Kade and Krik knowingly took their seats beside Freen and Becky, waiting for the perfect moment to execute their strategy. The night air was turning colder, sending occasional shivers down Becky’s spine. Dressed in a stunning black backless gown, she looked effortlessly breathtaking, though the cool breeze was beginning to bite at her exposed skin. Freen, seated across from her in a golden dress that hugged her curves perfectly, noticed the subtle tremors—but, of course, she couldn’t do anything about it. She wouldn’t.
Krik, seizing the opportunity, quickly shrugged off his blazer and draped it over Becky’s shoulders.
“Oh, thank you, Krik,” Becky said with a soft humble smile.
“Anything for you, boss babe,” Krik teased, grinning.
Meanwhile, someone at the table was grinding her teeth for absolutely no reason at all.
Just then, Kade feigned a tipsy stumble, collapsing onto Freen and—conveniently—spilling her drink all over herself.
“Oh, shit!” Kade gasped dramatically.
Freen instantly sprang into action, grabbing tissues and gently dabbing the liquid off Kade’s skin—particularly the exposed area just below her collarbone.
“I’m so sorry, Kade. Let me help you,” Freen said, focused on drying her.
Kade, biting back a smirk, leaned slightly into Freen’s touch. “Gladly,” she purred.
Across the table, Becky’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face, which had been cold from the wind moments ago, was now burning. Nam and Irin exchanged knowing glances—they had seen this side of Becky before. A possessiveness she never admitted to, but it flared like fire when provoked.
Kade took it a step further. “Freen, let’s go to the restroom. Maybe you can help me dry this dress quickly?”
Freen, oblivious to the growing storm beside her, nodded. “Oh, okay—”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Becky’s sharp voice sliced through the air, making the table fall into stunned silence.
Freen turned, blinking at Becky in confusion. “Since when do I take orders from you?” she shot back.
The tension was suffocating. Becky slowly rose from her seat, stepping beside Freen, her eyes never leaving Kade’s.
“For your information,” Becky began, her voice dangerously low, “you’re still my girlfriend—publicly. I know you don’t care about your image because you don’t have one, but I do. And I won’t let my ‘so-called girlfriend’ share a restroom with any other girl but me. You got that, Sarocha?”
A death glare accompanied her words, a silent warning that was not up for negotiation. It was true—one more slip-up and rumors would spiral out of control again. They had to be careful.
But Freen saw something else. An opportunity.
“Oh? I totally forgot about that,” she mused, her lips curving into a devilish smirk. Before Becky could react, Freen pulled her in by the waist, closing the distance until their lips were mere inches apart.
“Care to share a dance with me, my girlfriend?” Freen murmured, her voice teasing, low, and intoxicatingly playful.
The entire table sat frozen. Irin’s mouth hung open. Nam clutched Krik’s arm in shock. Kade fanned herself as if the heat between them had ignited the whole club.
And Freen? Freen was enjoying every second of making Becky’s life a living hell.