With Flowers in Her Arms
Freen’s feet moved before her brain caught up.
The flowers were still in her arms, slightly crumpled now, petals bruised and trembling from how tightly she was holding them. Her steps echoed through the polished marble floor of the lobby, each one slow, deliberate, a silent declaration that cut through the air like a knife.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.
Just walked.
Becky saw her marching towards them. Her breath hitched. The color drained from her face as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs.
She looked like she was bracing for something terrible—words she wouldn’t be able to explain her way out of, accusations that might shatter the fragile thing they’d built for years.
As Freen’s heels clicked closer, Krit noticed her too. He leaned down toward Becky, voice dropping into a confused whisper.
“Isn’t that your co-star? Freen something? What’s she doing here…?”
Becky didn’t answer—couldn’t. Her throat closed, heart pounding as Freen’s presence grew louder than the words around her.
Freen didn’t speak.
Not yet.
She closed the space between them with poise, every step a quiet storm. Her dark eyes never left Becky’s, and Becky could feel the chill of them down her spine.
Krit’s hand finally slipped from Becky’s the moment he noticed her gaze flicker over his shoulder.
Freen tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. Then she looked at him, lips curving into a smile that sent a ripple of unease through the air.
“Hello, Krit,” she said, her tone honeyed but edged like glass.
“I’m Freen Sarocha.”
Krit stiffened, caught off guard by her presence and her poise.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh—hello, phi. Yeah, I know you. I like your work, actually.”
Freen’s smile sharpened, eyes glittering.
“That’s cute,” she murmured. “But it looks like it’s not only my work that you like here.”
Krit blinked, confused, glancing at Becky again.
“What do you mean?” he asked, clearly thrown. “I don’t—what are you talking about?”
Freen didn’t blink.
Didn’t let him off the hook.
“Becky,” she said calmly, “is my girlfriend.”
The air shifted.
Krit’s face drained of color so fast, it was almost comical. He looked like he’d been dunked in ice water.
Becky stared, stunned, as if the world had flipped upside down—but it wasn’t fear in her expression. It was wonder. Freen didn’t doubt her. Not even for a second.
Freen leaned forward just a little, quiet and unshakable.
“So now that you know,” she said, “let me be very clear.”
Her voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.
“Whatever familiarity you think you had with her? Ends here.”
Her gaze bored into him like a cold flame.
“No more showing up around her with that tone. No more grabbing her hand. No more pretending she owes you time, attention, or softness she never offered.”
Krit floundered. “I—I didn’t know,” he said quickly, eyes darting to Becky as if she’d vouch for him. “She didn’t tell me that—I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know she didn’t, But now you do know from me,” Freen interrupted. Her voice didn’t waver. “So from this moment on, you stay in your lane. Clear?”
He nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Yes, phi. I’m—sorry.”
And just like that, he slipped away, the awkwardness of his exit trailing behind him like a bad smell.
Becky was still frozen in place.
Freen turned back to her with a gentleness that disarmed all of Becky’s panic. She reached out, fingers finding Becky’s hand and curling around it like they were always meant to.
“I’m hungry, baby,” Freen said, her voice light and soft now, like none of the confrontation ever touched her heart.
“Let’s go eat something.”
Becky blinked, her eyes glistening, a breath caught in her throat. Relief crashed over her in waves, and without a second thought, she stepped forward and pulled Freen into a hug.
It wasn’t gentle.
It was desperate.
It was Becky wrapping her arms tight around Freen’s neck and burying her face in her shoulder, heart pounding like a drum against her ribs.
Freen froze for half a second—then melted, arms winding around Becky’s waist as she held her just as tightly.
“I thought—” Becky’s voice broke against her skin. “I thought you’d be mad. I thought you’d think—”
Freen hushed her with a hand on her back, fingers gently smoothing over her spine.
“I trust you,” she whispered again. Firm. Steady. Unshakable.
Becky leaned back just enough to look at her, eyes wide and soft. Then, before Freen could react, she pressed a quick, tender kiss to her cheek.
Freen blinked, lips parting in surprise—and just as she was about to say something, Becky leaned in again, this time aiming very clearly for her lips.
Freen turned her face with a squeaky gasp, cheeks burning as she whined, “Nonggg, not in public!”
Becky grinned, mischievous and glowing, her nose scrunching up with that smile Freen was helpless against.
“But you just told the entire lobby I’m your girlfriend,” she teased, eyes dancing. “You started it.”
Freen swatted lightly at her arm, face red, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed the flutter in her chest.
With a playful huff, she threaded their fingers together again.
Becky looked down at their joined hands, then back up at her with a dimpled smirk.
Freen ducked her head, fighting back a lovesick giggle.
Like that, they walked hand-in-hand toward the exit, the sunlight spilling in through the glass, warming the floor beneath their feet.
They were just two girls in love. Giddy. Grinning. Starving.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, they were right where they belonged—side by side, hearts still racing, steps in sync.
The roses rustled gently in Becky’s arm.
And Freen?
She was already planning dessert.