Turning Points
Rain pounded against the pavement, washing over Freen as she sat curled on the ground, her body trembling, breaths short and shallow. Her fingers dug into the mud, grasping at something—anything—to keep herself anchored, but it all slipped through her hands like the rest of it. The storm outside couldn’t compare to the one inside her, where fear and doubt tore at the fragile pieces of her heart.
Fluffy’s frantic barking barely registered through the roar in her ears, but the sound of pounding footsteps did. Then came the warmth of an umbrella over her, shielding her from the relentless downpour.
“Freen,” Nam’s voice was breathless, urgent, but so, so gentle. “You can’t do this. Please, get up.”
Freen let out a strangled laugh, hollow and broken. “I don’t know how.”
Nam crouched beside her, wrapping a steadying hand around her arm. “Yes, you do. I know you do.”
Freen’s body sagged against her friend’s warmth, the weight of the night crashing into her all at once. “She’s slipping away,” she whispered, eyes red and distant. “And I can’t stop it.”
Nam squeezed her arm, firm but kind. “Becky loves you, Freen. You know that. You’ve always known that.”
Freen clenched her jaw, her nails digging into her palm. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing her?”
Nam sighed, shifting closer. “Because you’re scared. And because your mind is telling you lies. It’s the same voices that told you you’re not enough, that people always leave, that love is something you have to hold onto so tightly it breaks.” She reached for Freen’s chin, tilting her face up. “But you’re wrong. Becky isn’t leaving you. She’s fighting for you.”
Freen’s lip trembled. “Then why does it hurt like hell?”
“Because love is messy,” Nam said simply. “And because you care so much it’s tearing you apart.”
For a long moment, Freen just stared at her, searching for something solid in her words. Finally, with a shaky breath, she let Nam help her up. Her limbs felt heavy, her heart even more so, but she let herself be led home, Freen clutched Fluffy close, the little dog trembling against her as if he could feel the storm raging inside her.
Inside, Nam nudged her toward the bathroom. “Shower. Get warm. I’ll take care of Fluffy.”
Freen hesitated, exhaustion pulling at her every limb, but she obeyed, letting the hot water try to melt away the cold that had settled deep inside her bones. When she emerged, she found Nam sitting on the couch, two cups of tea in hand.
Freen sank down beside her, the warmth of the mug grounding her. They sat in silence for a moment before Nam spoke. “Talk to me.”
Freen stared into her cup, the steam blurring her vision. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with the truth.”
A bitter chuckle slipped from Freen’s lips. “The truth is… I love her. More than anything. But I feel like I’m watching us fall apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
Nam nodded. “And have you told her that?”
Freen shook her head, shame curling in her stomach. “Not in the way I should.”
Nam exhaled, leaning forward. “Then tell her, Freen. No more overthinking, no more assuming, no more letting fear speak for you. She’s your person. Let her in.”
Freen swallowed hard, nodding. “I need my phone.”
Nam handed it over without hesitation, watching as Freen unlocked it, her breath hitching at the flood of missed calls and voice mails from Becky.
Baby, please pick up.
Baby, it’s nothing, he was just being friendly
I’m yours. I swear, I’m yours.
Answer—I’m begging!
Where are you? I’m scared. Please.
Freen’s chest clenched, fingers shaking as she hit call. It rang once. Twice. Then—
“Freen?” Becky’s voice was hoarse, thick with worry.
Freen’s eyes slammed shut, a tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s me.”
A sharp inhale. “Baby, are you okay? Where are you?”
Freen looked at Nam, who gave her a reassuring nod. “I’m home. I—I just…” Her voice cracked. “I saw everything, and I lost it.”
Becky’s breath wavered on the other end. “Freen, none of it means anything. Krit is just a friend, you know that.”
“I know.” Freen squeezed her eyes shut. “And I know you love me. But sometimes, my head—it tells me things. And I listen when I shouldn’t.”
Becky’s voice softened. "Then let me remind you. I love you, Freen. And I’m not going anywhere."
Freen let out a shaky breath, guilt threading through her words. "I should've told you about Fai. I—I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I was just afraid of how it would look and I didn't want you to worry."
Becky exhaled slowly, her voice laced with exhaustion but also understanding. "I know. And I get why you didn't. But, baby, you don’t have to protect me from things like this. I want to know everything, even the things that scare you."
Freen swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. "No more secrets. No more shutting each other out."
“Promise?”
Freen nodded, even though Becky couldn’t see her. "Promise."
Nam patted her knee, standing. "I’ll give you two some space. But call me if you need anything, okay?"
Freen gave a small nod, her grip still firm around Fluffy as the little dog nestled into her lap. "I will."
Nam hesitated, scanning Freen’s face before offering a gentle squeeze to her shoulder. "You’re not alone, Freen."
As Nam stepped away, Freen held the phone close, as if Becky’s voice alone could mend the cracks inside her. "I love you. Talk to you tomorrow. Rest well, okay?"
"I love you too," Becky whispered. "Sleep, baby. We’ll be okay."
Freen stayed still long after the call ended, Fluffy’s tiny heartbeat against her chest anchoring her. There was still so much to fix, so much inside her that needed healing. But for the first time in days, she felt like she could.
Day – 30
Becky sat in a quiet corner of her internship office, her badge clipped neatly to her blazer, the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders. She typed absentmindedly at her computer, her focus elsewhere. Across from her, Krit sat at his own desk, his jaw tense, his fingers drumming against the surface. The online chaos had reached him too—his inbox flooded with hate, threats, and assumptions.
"I'm really sorry you're dealing with this," she said gently as she met his eyes. "People take things too far. Just ignore them, okay? At the end of the day, we know the truth. We're good friends, and that's all that matters."
Krit let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Just good friends? After everything?"
Becky stiffened. There it was. The shift she had sensed coming, but hoped wouldn’t happen.
"Krit—"
"You really don’t see me as anything more?" His voice was calm, but there was something raw beneath it.
Becky exhaled sharply. She should have seen this coming, but now that it was here, she had to be clear. Firm, but gentle.
"Krit, I value you a lot, but I can’t give you more than friendship. I really hope you understand."
A long pause. Krit looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, finally, he nodded, but there was a flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. "I get it. Thanks for being honest."
But even as he said it, a part of him still clung to the smallest sliver of hope, the foolish belief that maybe, just maybe, things could change.
Becky felt relief—but it was short-lived. As she walked back to her apartment, the weight of the conversation settled in her chest.
How do I tell Freen?
If Freen knew Krit had feelings for her, would it unravel everything they had just started to rebuild? Would she see it as another fracture in their already fragile trust—something Becky should have caught, should have told her about? The thought gnawed at her, an anxious pit forming deep in her stomach. The air around her felt stifling, her phone a weight in her palm, her fingers hovering over the screen, paralyzed between honesty and fear.
________________________________________
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Thailand, Freen was wrapping up a long day at work. The moment she stepped outside, she checked her phone, her fingers itching to text Becky. They had promised transparency—no more secrets. But deep down, an unease still lingered between them, the scars of their last fight not entirely faded. Just as she was about to type, her phone buzzed with a message from Nam.
Nam: Hey, just checking in. You okay?
Freen hesitated before typing back a short response.
Freen: Yeah. Just tired.
A moment later, Nam replied.
Nam: You sure? You don’t have to check the internet. Just talk to me, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.
Freen swallowed, her grip tightening around her phone. The words felt like a lifeline, yet the weight in her chest didn’t ease.
Instead of going home, she turned the wheel in a different direction. Her car cut through the night, headlights casting sharp shadows as she drove towards the IDF office.
She wasn’t even sure why she was doing this. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was because something inside her was still unsettled, still searching for an answer she hadn’t yet formed into words.
She stepped into the sleek office, the scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air. Saint looked up from his desk, raising an eyebrow as she approached.
“Nong Freen,” he greeted, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t expect you here this late.”
Freen swallowed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Hey P'Saint, can I have a minute?” she asked, voice steady but with an edge of something unreadable.
Saint studied her for a moment, then gestured to the chair across from him. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Freen sat down, exhaling slowly.
“…I need to talk to you about something real quick.”
Saint's expression shifted, curiosity flickering behind his composed demeanor. Freen hesitated for a split second, her nails digging into her palms. The words were there, tangled on her tongue, waiting to be spoken. But once they left her mouth, there would be no turning back.
She exhaled sharply. "It's about N'Becky. And about… everything."
Saint's brows furrowed slightly. "Go on."
The door behind them remained slightly ajar, the murmur of the office just faintly audible in the silence between them.