Glow and Gaps
The Essex Uni law offices buzzed with the steady hum of keyboards and the faint rustle of paper, day 25 of Becky’s internship gliding by in its usual groove. Files lined her desk in neat rows, emails trickled in at a familiar pace, and the mentors droned about schedules—nothing wild, just the quiet churn of a routine she’d tamed. Her system held strong, though the monotony nibbled at her edges. She fiddled with Freen’s tulip ring, its smooth curve a small comfort, tying her to late-night giggles and murmured promises over glitchy calls. Grandma Edith’s text chimed—“Rebecca, don’t work too hard—visit soon!”—and Becky’s lips quirked up, the cottage’s pull a soft hum. No Freen, no Fluffy—just the rhythm of her own pace keeping her steady.
She texted Freen, thumbs quick: “Day’s dragging, baby—miss your cute face.” Freen’s reply zipped back—“Miss yours more, angel—shoot’s boring today.” Becky’s grin flickered, a little glow cutting through the gray. She sent a voice note, voice light, “Hey, baby—this place is a snooze. Need your goofy laugh to shake it up. Love you.” Freen’s wide eyes, her anchor across the miles, shimmered in her mind, lifting her.
Krit ambled over, a coffee in hand, his grin lazy but warm. “Becky, you’re too quiet—perk up, star.” He set the cup down, leaning in with a playful nudge. He’d been hooked for weeks—not just her spark, but the way she flowed through the day. Her quick nods when he unraveled a form, the half-smile she’d toss over a shared groan at a mentor’s ramble, the soft hum she let slip when she thought no one heard—it tugged at him. She was more than the fierce girl he’d admired from afar; she was steady, sharp, her presence a quiet flame that warmed him without trying. “You’re acing this slog,” he said, voice low, testing her vibe. She shrugged, “It’s whatever—thanks for the coffee.” He lingered, “You good? You’ve got that far-off look.” She nodded, “Yeah, just pacing myself—long game.” He grinned, “Unstoppable—my kind of teammate.” His liking deepened, a steady draw he didn’t name, but Becky kept Freen close to her chest—their low-key pact—and he stayed blissfully unaware.
Later, texting Freen, Becky typed, “Krit dropped off coffee—nice pick-me-up.” Freen’s reply was swift—“Him again? Guy’s your personal barista now.” A winking emoji tagged along, but the bite lingered. Becky caught it—Freen’s tone always edged up around Krit’s name lately. Once, she’d quipped, “Krit’s your shadow, huh?” and Becky had laughed it off—“Just a buddy, babe—relax.” She knew it ruffled Freen, so she sidestepped, texting, “Work’s a yawn—need your chaos.” Freen fired back, “Chaos on demand—save me from this script.” Becky chuckled, but the dodge settled—she hid Krit to keep Freen’s peace, her care a quiet shield.
In Thailand, Freen’s shoot wrapped early—lines nailed, takes smooth, just another day ticking by. Nam clapped her shoulder, “You’re on it today, Nong—let’s wrap this up and shop.” Freen grinned, “Twist my arm—need a break.” They hit a bustling mall, weaving through racks of silky tops and glittering trinkets, bags stacking up. Nam dangled a flowy scarf, “This for Becky—she’d rock it, yeah?” Freen snorted, “ I mean yeah but, She’d knot it around her ankle and flop—my clumsy angel.” Nam cackled, “Get it anyway—catch her when she trips.” Freen snatched it, “Fine, but if she faceplants, you’re toast.” They drifted to a jewelry stall, Nam picking up a chunky bracelet, “This is you—bold, shiny.” Freen smirked, “Too loud—Becky’d roast me for weeks.” Nam nudged her, “Spoil her then—sunshine deserves a treat.” Freen laughed, “She’d just lose it in her mess—perfect.”
Mid-banter, a voice cut in—“Freen Sarocha, strutting around like the star you are?” Freen turned—P’Fai stood there, radiant in a tailored blazer, dark hair swept back, confidence rolling off her like a tide. P’Fai had been a whirlwind in uni—tall, striking, the kind of girl who owned every room with a bold laugh and a piercing gaze. She’d fallen hard for Freen, a crush that burned bright. She’d trail her to the canteen, tossing quips to spark her smile, her eyes lingering too long. Late nights, she’d drag Freen to karaoke, belting duets and slipping her extra snacks—“You need fuel, future superstar.” Once, after a group hike, she’d pulled Freen aside, voice firm, “You’re going places, Freen—I always knew it. I’d follow you anywhere.” Freen had grinned, deflecting—“You’re too cool for me, P’Fai”—keeping it light, but P’Fai’s gaze held steady. She’d moved to Australia after graduation, carving out a finance career, but her texts—“Caught your show, still killing it”—kept that old flame alive. Now, visiting her grandparents, she stepped forward and pulled Freen into a tight hug, her arms lingering, hands brushing down Freen’s back before easing away.
Freen laughed, caught off guard, “P’Fai! You’re back—how’s Oz?” P’Fai stepped back, her hand grazing Freen’s arm, fingers trailing lightly before letting go, her smile all charm. “Kicks ass, but Thailand’s got you—had to see the legend. You’re killing it—proud as hell.” Nam grinned, staying quiet for once, letting them chat. P’Fai’s laugh rang out, “Always knew you’d be huge—remember those karaoke nights? Told you you’d shine.” Freen flushed, “Yeah, you wouldn’t shut up about it—still bold as ever.” P’Fai grinned, leaning in, “Some things don’t change. Catch up soon? Just us?” Her tone was casual, but her eyes gleamed—still smitten, bold as ever. Freen shrugged, “Sure, friendly hang—why not?” P’Fai chuckled, “Whatever you say, superstar—still the Freen I’d chase.” As P’Fai walked off, Nam elbowed Freen, voice low, “She’s still swooning—watch out, Nong.” Freen swatted her, “Quit it—old news, we are just pals.” Freen didn’t text Becky about it—P’Fai’s flirty edge always got her tense, and Becky didn’t need the buzz. She cared too much to poke that bear.
That night, Becky texted Nam, casual—“How’s my girl holding up?” Nam replied, “A champ—shopped ‘til we dropped. Ran into P’Fai, old college flirt. She’s gushing over Freen’s fame—too funny.” Becky grinned, typing, “Sounds like a riot—Freen okay?” Nam shot back, “Oh yeah, shrugged it off—P’Fai’s still starry-eyed tho lol.” Becky chuckled, but a twinge hit—P’Fai, bold and gorgeous, was Freen’s old weakness, all swagger and shine. She didn’t love it, but she trusted Freen, so she let it slide.
On their FaceTime later, Becky sprawled on her couch, hoodie loose, hair wild; Freen lounged in bed, Fluffy curled up, her grin sleepy. “Hey, baby—you’re adorable all zoned out,” Becky teased, sticking out her tongue. Freen mock-glared, “Rude—you’re the cute one, hogging it all.” They burst into giggles, kicking their feet, Freen’s day melting under Becky’s silliness. “Shopping with Nam was a win—got you something,” Freen said, dangling a cartoon otter in a superman costume. Becky squealed, “My hero! Saving me from dullsville.” Freen winked, “Always—gonna storm Essex and kidnap you.” No P’Fai—she skipped it, thinking, “Better not to stir her up—P’Fai’s nothing worth mentioning.”
Becky yawned, “Work’s a slog—same old grind.” Freen tilted her head, “Yeah? Coffee still your MVP?” A playful prod, fishing light. Becky smirked, “Yup, my liquid savior—keeps me ticking.” No Krit—she dodged, guarding Freen’s calm. They traded quips—“You’d trip over Fluffy,” “You’d lose him in your hair”—laughter bouncing, warm and easy. Becky didn’t nudge about P’Fai—Nam’s laugh-off felt fine, and Becky’s trust was ironclad. But as Freen rambled about scarves and stalls, Becky’s mind snagged—she didn’t mention her. Freen, who spilled every detail, held back. No doubt, just off—a quiet itch she didn’t poke.
The call wound down with drowsy _“love yous”, Freen blowing a kiss, Becky catching it with a goofy grin. But as Freen hung up, she stared at the ceiling, Fluffy’s snores filling the quiet. “Better not to stir her up—P’Fai’s nothing worth mentioning.” Krit’s shadow hummed, a faint nag she brushed off. In Essex, Becky flopped back, twirling her ring, muttering, “P’Fai’s back, all bold and dazzling—she’s hiding it to keep me steady.” No doubts, just a pang—Freen’s dodge wasn’t her usual. The night buzzed with their cute glow, but a thread pulled loose—small, taut, ready to fray.