Chapter 9
Soon after, Nita called Freen, her voice smug with satisfaction. “Your work is done,” she said. “You should send my money now. I did exactly what you asked me to do.” Freen exhaled a breath of relief. Finally, I’m leading this battle. But then Nita added, “And not just that—you should reward me with extra incentives. Because I didn’t just leave her dry and high—I really, like really hurt her with my words.”
Freen’s relief vanished in an instant. “Wait… what?”
“Oh yeah,” Nita continued, oblivious to the shift in Freen’s tone. “I told her some really mean things. Like how she’s inhuman, rude, cold… how she’ll forever be alone because of that. You know, cruel stuff.” She chuckled, clearly proud of herself.
Freen’s blood ran cold. And then, in a flash, her anger ignited. “HOW DARE YOU SAY THOSE THINGS TO HER?!” she spat, her voice sharp with rage. “I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO DO THAT!”
Nita paused, confused. “Huh? But… didn’t you want to hurt her?”
“NO!” Freen’s hands clenched into fists. “I just wanted to tease her, to frustrate her—not break her! How dare you cross the line and say such cruel things to her?”
Nita scoffed. “Wow. I don’t get you at all. This is weird.”
Freen wasn’t listening. Her mind was already racing, her heart pounding in her chest. Becky—Becky—what was she feeling right now? Was she sitting in the wreckage of those words, letting them sink into her skin, into her soul? Freen had wanted a battle, a playful war between them, but not this. Not the kind of pain that stays.
“You listen to me,” Freen said, her voice deadly serious. “Listen clearly. You’re going to call her. Right now. You’re going to apologize for every single thing you said and tell her it was all made up. You got that?”
Nita laughed. “And you think I’m that stupid? You think I’m some kind of clown?” Her voice turned sharp. “Just send me my money, Freen. Or rest assured—I’ll tell Becky this was all your plan.”
The line went dead.
Freen stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her pulse pounded against her skull, her throat tightening. And then—there it was. That ache in her chest. Real and unforgiving.
She had wanted to play with Becky. To push and pull, to rile her up, to make her feel her.
But this? This was a wound. And now, she would regret it for a long, long time.
Freen sent Nita her money, hoping to shut her up and forget about it all. But how would she sleep at night, knowing Becky—always an overthinker—would take this tiny betrayal and twist it into something unbearable? Becky, who could turn a speck of dust into a mountain with her over-exaggerating, self-destructive thoughts. The realization stung Freen, again and again, like an open wound that refused to heal.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Nita, now satisfied with her payment, had another idea—a double kill, gun shot. She quickly took a screenshot of the transaction receipt and sent Becky a message:
"Hey Becky, I'm sorry I said all those things, but it wasn’t me. Someone actually threatened my life to do it. You know how much I adore you, right? If you ever need me, call me, please… sorry again. But I love my life, you know."
The message landed in Becky’s inbox like a grenade in the dead of night. The soft glow of her phone screen illuminated the darkness as she opened it. Her tired eyes skimmed the text—until they landed on one thing.
Freen’s name on the transaction receipt.
Her blood boiled. Her grip on the phone tightened. Morning was too far away.
She needed answers now.
The doorbell to Freen’s apartment rang—over and over again—like an irritated child throwing a tantrum.
Freen groaned, dragging herself to the door, half-asleep. But the moment she unlocked it, Becky barged in, storming straight inside before whirling around, arms crossed, eyes blazing.
"So, you’ve stooped down to this level now?" Becky spat, her voice sharp with fury. "You’ve interfered in my personal life before—but this? You actually planned it out? Disgusting.”
Freen froze. How the hell does she know?
“Wha—what? H-how did you—?”
Becky shoved her phone into Freen’s face. The screen burned into her vision—her own transaction receipt.
Freen’s jaw clenched. Her fingers curled into fists. That bitch.
Becky stepped forward, her voice dripping with anger. “So tell me, Freen, is this your level now? Going cheap? Playing around to hurt people? Because if that’s the case—oh boy—then you better be ready for what I’m going to do next."
Freen opened her mouth, but all that came out was a weak, “I didn’t mean to—”
Becky let out a cold, bitter laugh. "Oh, you clearly did." She clapped her hands mockingly. “Bravo. That was a well-scripted play, Freen.”
Freen flinched. It wasn’t Nita’s words that had broken Becky. It was her own actions.
“Look,” Freen exhaled, trying to explain, “I just tipped her to piss you off by leaving you high and dry. That’s it. None of what she said was from me, okay? And you shouldn’t believe her—she’s a bitch!”
Becky scoffed. “Oh yeah? And I should believe you why?"
Silence.
A thick, suffocating silence.
Then Becky turned toward the door. Her voice was low, sharp as a dagger.
Freen barely had time to breathe before Becky turned back around, her voice trembling with anger.
"This is the second time you’ve ruined my personal life, Freen."
Freen’s stomach twisted.
"And I believed you the first time……," Becky continued, her voice quieter now, “you said sorry.”
Freen opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Because what could she say?
“Well, if you’re gonna play cheap… I know how to play dirty too. Thanks for letting me know what level you’re at.”
And with that, Becky wasn’t waiting for an answer.
With a final glance, she turned on her heel and walked away.
And Freen was left standing there, the weight of her mistakes pressing down on her chest like a boulder, crushing her breath, her thoughts—everything.
The next day in the office, everything was eerily quiet. Becky remained locked away in her cabin, the glass doors and walls now covered with thick curtains. She had no interest in looking out into the world anymore.
But soon, without knocking, a familiar figure barged in, dragging someone along. Becky barely had time to react before last night came rushing back to her like a slap to the face.
"What are you doing here?" Becky’s eyes flicked past Freen and landed on Nita, her body tensing. If looks could kill, Nita wouldn’t have made it past the threshold. But Becky’s question wasn’t for her—it was for Freen.
Freen, without a word, yanked Nita forward by the wrist, forcing her face-to-face with Becky.
"NOW SPILL." Freen’s voice was dangerously low, her gaze sharp as a blade.
Nita’s face twisted with fear. She fumbled with her words, her confidence from last night nowhere to be found. "Uh—uh..."
Becky sighed impatiently. "I don’t have much time."
And just like that, Nita cracked. "I’m sorry! None of what I said to you last night was from Freen. It was all me. Because you—unintentionally—you have hurt me in the past. And it was personal, okay? Not a single word came from Freen. I always wanted to impress you and wanted to have future with you but every time you made it clear that you will never be up for it so I had all this in me and last night i saw golden opportunity to ruin you like really ruin you at the expense of freen so I did"
And before either of them could react, she bolted.
Becky raised a brow, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. "So... how much did you pay her this time to say all that?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She couldn’t believe Freen now—not after everything.
Freen sighed, meeting Becky’s piercing gaze. "I know you won’t believe me anymore, but all I want to say is—I’m sorry. And this was the last time I had anything to do with your personal life. You can do whatever you want to take your revenge... I accept my defeat."
Becky scoffed, pretending to go back to work. "Giving up already? You want me to spare you without making you go through the same hurt and pain? What a loser."
Freen rolled her eyes. "Think whatever you want. I’m right here, so make sure you give your best shot." And with that, she walked out, leaving Becky alone in her office.
Becky leaned back in her chair, a slow smirk creeping onto her lips.
"The guilty look on your face, Sarochha... that’s my reward. I don’t have to do anything."
And with a mischievous grin, Becky knew—last night had turned out in her favor after all.