Chapter 15
The boardroom was a mess—scattered documents forgotten on the floor, chairs pushed haphazardly aside, and a table that had become something far more intimate than a workspace.
The air was thick with heat, their breaths uneven, skin still tingling from the way they had claimed each other, again and again, as if the world was ending and this was their last night to exist.
They both lost track of their time as if it’s the end of the world and they can’t waste any moment away from each other.
Freen lay half on top of Becky, her lips ghosting over Becky’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. Becky's fingers tangled in Freen’s hair, tugging just enough to pull a quiet groan from her lips. They weren’t done, not yet. They could never get enough.
Then, Freen’s phone buzzed—again.
The vibration rattled against the table, relentless and insistent. It had been ringing for a while, but neither of them had cared enough to stop. Not when Becky had kept pulling her back, her lips murmuring “Not yet… just a little more” between heated kisses.
But this time, Becky exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, pick it up already.” Her voice was breathless, almost annoyed, though she was just as guilty of keeping Freen distracted.
Freen groaned, reluctantly pulling herself away and reaching for her phone. As soon as she answered, her mother’s voice came through, frantic and trembling.
“Freen, where are you?! I’ve been calling you for so long—your dad, your dad…!”
The urgency in her voice sent an instant chill down Freen’s spine. Becky noticed the change in her expression immediately and sat up, worry replacing the teasing glint in her eyes.
“Dad what, Mom?” Freen’s voice was sharp now, panic creeping in. She was already scrambling off the table, yanking on her shirt with shaky hands.
“Please, just come home. Come to the Armstrong mansion—now.”
Freen froze. Armstrong mansion?
“Why? What’s happening?” She could hear the unsteadiness in her mother’s breathing, the distress behind her words.
“Please, Freen, don’t wait any longer. He’s going out of his mind… Just come. As fast as you can.”
Becky was already slipping back into her clothes, her hands moving quickly as she grabbed her things. The moment Freen hung up, their eyes met, both filled with the same unspoken fear.
Neither of them wasted another second.
They ran.
Freen and Becky burst into the Armstrong mansion, their breaths still heavy from running. Their hearts pounded with worry, but the moment they stepped inside, they froze.
There, in the living room, sat all four parents—Mr. Armstrong, Mr. Chankimha, Mrs. Armstrong, and Mrs. Chankimha—calm, quiet, not a single sign of an emergency.
Becky exhaled in relief, pressing a hand against her chest. Freen did the same. At least no one was dying.
"What the hell? Why did you call us so urgently?" Freen demanded, looking at her mom.
"Yeah, seriously, what’s going on?" Becky added, glancing between them.
Mr. Chankimha leaned back with a smirk. "Go ahead, tell them," he said to Freen’s mother.
Mrs. Chankimha hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Armstrong, who gave a small nod of encouragement.
"There’s something we need to tell you both," Freen’s mom started, shifting uncomfortably. "Which, as you can see, your dads didn’t exactly take calmly."
Freen frowned. "What is it?"
Becky’s mom took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words, but before she could speak, Freen’s mom blurted out—
"Me and Mrs. Armstrong… We've been in love for five years."
Silence.
Then—
"WHAT THE—" Becky’s voice cracked in shock.
"ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS?" Freen practically yelled. "WHAT DO YOU THINK WE ARE?! YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS—TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING!"
Becky turned to them, her eyes narrowed. "You’re messing with us, right?" Her voice held a warning edge.
Mrs. Armstrong crossed her arms. "Oh, so it’s okay when your dads have been in love for twenty years, but when it’s us, it’s suddenly outrageous?"
Freen and Becky both whipped their heads toward their fathers, searching for some kind of denial. But their dads sat there, nodding in all seriousness.
Freen’s jaw dropped. "Wait, what?!"
Becky blinked. "Then why did you react like that yesterday?"
Freen’s mom sighed. "Because we were in denial. It’s terrifying to change everything, to confess something this big. And, of course, there’s always the fear of what people will say."
Becky let out a sharp breath, rubbing her temples. "Hold on—so what you’re telling me is, we’re just a bunch of gays sitting in a living room, drawing conclusions on each other’s love lives?"
A beat.
Then—laughter. Loud, uncontrollable laughter. The four of them laughed so hard coz they can’t believe they fooled their smart ass daughterswith their act.
Freen stared in disbelief as their parents doubled over, tears in their eyes from how ridiculous this all was.
"Are you guys on drugs?" Freen asked, deadpan. "Because this is insane."
Before either of them could protest further, their mothers pulled them into warm embraces. Freen’s mom peppered her with kisses, while Becky’s mom held her tightly, whispering, "We love you so, so much."
Their dads stood behind them, smiling proudly. "We’re so proud of you two."
Becky pulled back, still looking confused. "Okay, but seriously—what is happening right now?"
Mr. Armstrong spoke up. "Your moms support us. And they want us…. Gesturing to Mr. Chankima and himself “us to live together."
"WHAT?!" Freen and Becky shouted at the same time.
Mr. Chankimha smiled. "It’s their way of loving us back. While we promise to always be there for them, this family—we won’t let it fall apart."
Freen turned to her mother. "Is this true?"
Her mom nodded. "Yes. We know you two worry about us, but love should always win. And by setting your fathers free to love who they want, we make our love win, too."
Becky and Freen stood frozen, their gazes locked in a silent exchange—one heavy with realization, with the weight of unspoken emotions pressing into the space between them.
And now, standing here, in this moment of raw, unfiltered truth—Freen and Becky saw it. The depth of their mothers’ love. The weight of their sacrifice.
Without thinking, Becky reached out, her fingers curling tightly around her mother’s hand. Freen did the same, her grip firm as if silently promising that from this moment on, none of them would have to love in the shadows anymore.
Tears welled up in their mothers’ eyes, but before any of them could speak, a pair of strong arms wrapped around them. Their fathers, stepping in, pulling them all close. Then, one by one, they all reached for each other, arms tangling, bodies pressing together in a warmth so full, so whole, it was impossible to tell where one embrace ended and another began.
This was family. This was love.
No words were needed—only the silent, steady beat of their hearts, the trembling hands clutching onto each other, the shaky breaths shared between them.
Becky buried her face against her mother’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of home, of safety, of love. Freen closed her eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of her mother’s chest, the quiet strength that had always been there, even when she had not seen it.
Love had won tonight—not just for their parents, but for all of them.
And for the first time in a long time, they were truly, undeniably whole.
But soon Mr. Armstrong smirked and pulled back. "Well, that’s us. Now, what about you two?"
Mr. Chankimha added with a teasing grin, "Yeah, what’s with all this Tom & Jerry fights and Romeo-Juliet romance, huh?"
Freen’s mom grinned. "Well, bring the popcorn—we’re all ears."
Both Becky and Freen turned beet red. "Oh my god," Becky muttered, covering her face. Becky groaned, slumping further into the couch. "I cannot believe this. This is pure insanity."
Freen crossed her arms. "Yeah, seriously. This is too much for one night. uh, let’s not steal the thunder from our dads tonight, okay?"
Becky added. "Exactly! Let’s celebrate them instead. And, uh, our badass moms."
Freen immediately reached for a drink. "Agreed."
"Oh no, no, no—" Mr. Chankimha waved a finger. "You’re not getting away that easily. Spill."
Becky groaned. "Okay, fine! We’re together! But seriously, it hasn’t even been a few hours and you guys are already at us?"
Before they could get teased any further, Becky shot up from the couch and grabbed Freen’s hand and dragged her toward her childhood room. "Enough of this circus, I need a break."
Freen, still blushing, let herself be pulled away, while their parents burst into laughter.
Becky pulled Freen by the wrist, dragging her upstairs, away from their teasing parents, away from the chaos. Freen let herself be led, a small smirk playing at her lips as she watched Becky stomp ahead, the remnants of blush still dusting her cheeks.
The moment they stepped into Becky’s childhood room, Freen barely had time to take in the soft glow of the fairy lights or the familiar scent of vanilla lingering in the air before Becky shut the door behind them with a thud.
And just as the door closed behind them, the group in the living room raised their glasses.
"To BackFreen!"
"To BackFreen!"
Meanwhile, inside Becky’s room, Freen smirked as she leaned in, her voice a whisper against Becky’s ear—
"Let them have BackFreen. But In here, it’s all FreenBeck."
And before Becky could react, Freen took the lead, leaving Becky breathless.
Becky barely had time to process Freen’s words before she was caught in a dizzying kiss—one that stole the breath from her lungs, that left her mind blank except for the heat of Freen’s lips against hers.
It was different this time.
Not rushed, not desperate—just slow, deliberate, as if Freen was savoring every second, as if she wanted Becky to feel everything.
Freen pressed her weight against Becky, guiding her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed. Becky gasped slightly as she fell onto the mattress, only for Freen to follow, hovering over her with that maddening, knowing smirk.
"Cat got your tongue, Armstrong?" Freen teased, voice husky, fingers tracing lazy patterns along Becky’s collarbone.
Becky scoffed, though the warmth pooling in her stomach betrayed her. "You wish."
Freen hummed, dragging her fingers lower, over the curve of Becky’s waist, making her shiver. "Hmm… I don’t have to wish for anything, Bec." She leaned down, lips brushing against Becky’s ear. "I always get what I want."
Becky’s breath hitched, but she wasn’t about to let Freen win that easily. She tilted her head, catching Freen’s lips in a kiss of her own—this time, slow and teasing, just enough to make Freen chase after her when she pulled away.
Freen groaned. "You're such a menace."
Becky grinned. "And you love it."
Freen didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, she took Becky’s hands and pinned them gently above her head, lowering herself until their bodies pressed together, warmth sinking into every inch of Becky’s skin. The teasing look in Freen’s eyes softened into something deeper, something that made Becky’s heart ache in the best way possible.
"You drive me crazy," Freen whispered against Becky’s lips.
Becky let out a shaky breath. "Then we’re even."
And then there were no more words—just warmth, soft gasps, the quiet sound of laughter in between kisses, the feeling of hands learning, memorizing, worshipping.
They moved in sync, as if they had done this a thousand times before, as if their bodies already knew the rhythm of each other’s hearts. Every touch, every whisper, every lingering gaze spoke of love—love that was messy, love that was chaotic, love that had survived distance and misunderstandings and a world that hadn’t always been kind.
When Freen finally collapsed beside Becky, breathless and spent, Becky turned to her with a satisfied smirk. "So…" she drawled, stretching lazily. "That was nice."
Freen scoffed. "Nice?" She propped herself up on one elbow, glaring. "Excuse me?"
Becky grinned. "I mean, decent, I guess—"
Freen tackled her, making Becky shriek with laughter as she rolled them over, pinning Becky down once again.
"Take it back," Freen demanded.
Becky giggled, shaking her head. "Nope."
Freen narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I’ll make you say it."
She started tickling Becky mercilessly, making her gasp and squirm beneath her. "F-Freen—stop, oh my god—"
"Say it," Freen insisted, grinning.
"Alright! Alright! You’re amazing—oh my god, stop!"
Freen finally let up, smirking in triumph.
Becky, still breathless from laughing, looked up at Freen and smiled—soft and genuine.
"You know," Becky murmured, tracing lazy circles on Freen’s arm. "You’re kind of perfect."
Freen chuckled with pride. "Yeah, I know."
Becky rolled her eyes. "Ugh, I take it back."
Freen laughed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Too late. No take-backs."
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in warmth, tangled in sheets, listening to the quiet hum of the night outside.
But of course, peace never lasted long between them.
Just as Becky was about to drift off, Freen suddenly muttered, "By the way, FreenBeck still sounds better."
Becky’s eyes flew open. "Oh my god, Freen, let it go."
"Never." Freen sigh
"BackFreen is superior, and you know it." Becky made it very clear.
Freen scoffed. "Please. FreenBeck sounds smoother, classier—"
"Classier?" Becky snorted. "It sounds like some weird fancy dish—‘Tonight’s special: a plate of FreenBeck with a side of delusion.’"
Freen gasped. "I knew you were obsessed with me."
Becky groaned, shoving her face into the pillow. "I can’t believe I just made love to an idiot."
Freen smirked, leaning in to whisper against Becky’s ear, "You love this idiot."
Becky sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."
Freen laughed, wrapping her arms around Becky, pulling her close. "Well, lucky for you, this idiot loves you too."
Becky smiled against Freen’s skin, her fingers curling into Freen’s shirt. "Yeah… I know."
And just like that, the argument faded into soft whispers, into quiet laughter, into the gentle rhythm of their breathing as they held each other through the night.
Outside, the world continued on, but in this room—where love had won, where teasing never ended, where Freen and Becky existed in their own perfect chaos—nothing else mattered.
Because no matter what they called themselves—FreenBeck, BackFreen, or anything in between—one truth remained:
They were each other’s home.
And that was all that ever mattered.
The End!!!
Love always wins :)