Drowning Without You
Day 28
Rain streaked the Essex Uni law offices, day twenty-seven of Becky’s internship grinding her down. Files loomed, mentors barked deadlines, and her skull throbbed with exhaustion. She gripped Freen’s tulip ring, its edges biting into her palm, a tether fraying under the weight of absence. Their last call—three fractured minutes two nights ago—echoed in her head. Freen’s hoarse “Baby, I’m sinking—miss you so bad” had met her trembling “Baby, I’m fading—call soon?” before static swallowed them. Yesterday’s text—“Baby, I need you”—got a late reply: “Need you too, angel—shoot’s hell.” No call. The distance cut deeper with every missed connection, unraveling the fragile thread between them.
In Thailand, Freen pushed through a grueling shoot, Becky’s voice note burning in her chest. “Baby, I’m crumbling—I need your mess, your laugh, your everything. I’m dying here—love you.” It played in her head as she mouthed her lines, her gut twisting. She swore she’d call, but the director snapped, “Sarocha, focus!” Her voice faltered. Meanwhile, Becky’s mentor barked, “Armstrong, these briefs—now or you’re out!” Becky croaked a hoarse “Yes, sir,” swallowing down tears as the light inside her dimmed.
That night, Freen finally had a break. P’Fai had texted earlier, “Hey, superstar—café tonight? Miss my Freen.” Reluctantly, Freen agreed. “Quick one—catching up.”
Fai was the same as ever—sharp, confident, teasing. “My Freen—still the prettiest chaos I’ve ever craved,” she teased, nudging Freen’s shoulder. Freen chuckled, shaking her head. “P’Fai, relax—just buddies, yeah?” Fai grinned, undeterred. “Buddies, sure—but you’re too irresistible. Let’s keep this alive—me and you, like before.”
Freen smiled, but kept her distance. “I’m slammed—let’s keep it light, okay?”
Fai sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. You win. But you’ll always be my favorite regret.”
They laughed over old university pranks, the nostalgia comforting. It was harmless, at least to Freen. But the fan picture—Fai leaning in too close, Freen mid-laugh—hit X before she even made it home.
X CHAOS:
“Freen and Fai looking cozy—what about Becky?”
“THE TENSION. FreenBecky’s shaking.”
“She used to laugh like that with Becky… I'm gonna jump off a cliff guys.”
“Fai’s playing the long game. Watch out, Becky.”
“Becky deserves better. That’s all.”
“Freen and Fai are serving. Lowkey, I’d watch this ship sail.”
“Becky’s gonna see this and LOSE IT.”
Becky saw it as soon as she collapsed onto her bed. Freen’s carefree smile, Fai’s touch. Her stomach clenched. She wanted to brush it off, but exhaustion and longing cracked her open. She called, voice tight. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were meeting P’Fai?”
Freen, sprawled with Fluffy, sighed. “Bec, it was nothing. She texted, I went—just coffee.”
Becky’s breath hitched. “You looked a little too friendly.”
Freen sat up. “I didn’t hide it, baby. I didn’t want you worrying over nothing.”
“Nothing?” Becky’s voice wavered. “She still wants you, Freen! You saw how she was looking at you, how she was talking to you.”
Freen exhaled sharply. “It doesn’t matter what she wants. I only want you.”
Becky’s frustration boiled over. “You don’t get it! You’re there laughing with her, while I’m here—drowning!”
“I’m drowning too!” Freen snapped. “But Krit’s all over you every day, and I say nothing!”
Becky flinched. “Krit’s just—he’s just here. He’s not Fai.”
Freen clenched her fists. “You don’t even see it, do you? How far away you feel?”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
Becky whispered, “Maybe we just… need space to cool off.”
Freen swallowed hard. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Neither of them said goodnight.
Day 29
They didn’t text. Didn’t call. Just silence, thick and unbearable.
That afternoon, Krit nudged Becky at lunch. “You’re a corpse—eat with us?”
Too tired to argue, she went. Krit kept close, making sure she ate. Tom snapped a picture—Krit’s arm draped casually over Becky’s shoulder, her smile faint. Liv posted it: #LawLife, tagging Becky.
By evening, X was in flames.
Trolls swarmed: “Becky’s screwing Krit—Freen’s a blind moron!” “Freen’s a shattered has-been—nobody sticks around for that wreck!” “KRIT’S STOLEN BECKY—FREEN’S FINISHED!”,
"Looks like Freen is left behind as always lol"
Shipper chaos on the other side:
“Freen and Fai looked too close—now Becky and Krit? Divorce era incoming.”
“First Fai, now Krit? FreenBecky’s in flames.”
“We saw Freen and Fai, now this? Is my ship sinking?”
“Oh, FreenBecky, get it together!”
“DIVORCE ERA REAL. WHERE ARE THE LAWYERS?”
“GET THEM INTO COUPLES THERAPY BEFORE I JUMP OFF”
“This timeline is a fever dream. Who’s next? Freen with Engfa? Becky with Gemini?”
“Freen and Becky are serving Titanic .”
Memes flooded in. Freen’s face blurred with “Dumped” Krit’s image captioned “King Krit.” #BeckyCheats and #DivorceEra trended, drowning out fans trying to defend them.
Freen saw it alone, the house dark, Fluffy’s soft nudges against her shaking hands. Krit’s arm around Becky on her screen was a knife twisting deep. Her heart screamed Becky’s innocence, but the ghosts were louder—her dad’s cold “You’re not enough,” exes’ “You’re too much to handle.”
“I’m losing her,” she choked, breaths short and ragged. “Am I really not enough?”
Her phone buzzed— goes to voice mail, Nam’s voice urgent. “Freen, pick up—don’t look at the internet, you know Becky, please let's talk it out, It’s gonna be okay.”
But she was spiraling. “I can’t breathe—I’ve got to get out!”
She bolted. The door swung open behind her, left ajar as the rain hit her in icy sheets, drenching her within seconds, clinging to her like a second skin. Fluffy barked wildly, his cries almost human—"Freen, no! Please!"—but she kept running, stumbling into the chaos of the storm. The wind howled in her ears, her own breath ragged, strangled.
Her chest ached, her mind a whirl of static and suffocating noise. "Becky—" Freen’s voice cracked, raw, like glass shattering. "I—I don't know how to—" The words splintered into a sob, her body folding in on itself as her knees hit the ground. Mud seeped between her fingers, her hands trembling as she clawed at the earth, desperate, searching—
For something to hold on to. For something to make it stop. But there was nothing. Nothing but the downpour crashing against her, the relentless storm swallowing her whole, and the hollow ache of being too much and never enough all at once.
Becky saw the chaos too late. Her breath stuttered. She called—voicemail. “Baby, it’s nothing, he was just being freindly—I’m yours, please!”—silence. “Answer—I’m begging!”—nothing.
Panic seized her. “Where are you?” she whispered, staring at the rain outside her window, a horrible dread pressing down on her chest.
Freen was out there. Alone. Breaking.
And Becky had never felt so helpless.