Chapter 9
As Freen entered the room, their eyes met—just like always.
"So, I heard the audition went well for some talented kid. Did you finally secure your spot in the club?"
It was Freen’s way of avoiding a normal greeting, throwing a question instead of letting their gaze linger awkwardly.
Becky had grown used to this habit. In fact, she had reached a point where she could predict the kind of question Freen would ask next.
"Yes, I made it," she replied. But before silence could take over, Becky quickly added, "And to celebrate my small win, I bought you pizza. I mean—for us. I even skipped my dinner because... sometimes, we need to celebrate life, right?"
She knew that if she wanted the conversation to keep flowing, she had to end her statements with a question. And Becky was getting really good at this game.
"Do you remember the rules I made very clear to you?"
Freen’s cold, detached tone was enough to make Becky’s heart shrink a little.
"I remember... it’s just that I was really happy, so I thought..." Becky trailed off dramatically, lowering her head in pretend disappointment.
Freen’s eyes stayed locked on her.
"I’m no one to you—I have no reason to celebrate your victories. People celebrate with their friends. You can go to Irin’s if you want to," Freen stated firmly.
Becky shook her head. "No, it’s okay. I was feeling sleepy anyway." She pulled the blanket over herself, turning away.
Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing.
Freen, on the other hand, was trying her best not to give in. But the thought of Becky skipping dinner unsettled her.
"Let’s eat first. Then you can sleep," she said, walking into the restroom to freshen up.
Under the blanket, Becky was celebrating another small victory but stayed perfectly still. She wanted to see just how far Freen would go.
When Freen came back and noticed Becky hadn’t moved, she sighed, took the pizza to the kitchen, plated it, and put it in the oven. Then she returned to Becky’s bed.
"Here. Your pizza is right here. If you turn over, you’ll ruin your blanket and the bedsheet. So get up and eat. I’ll have mine on the couch," Freen said, walking away.
Becky sat up, smiling. "Thank you, P’Freen," she said in the sweetest voice, almost melting Freen’s heart.
Freen forced herself to keep her expression neutral.
"But you didn’t congratulate me," Becky teased as she took a bite.
"I haven’t even heard you sing today. Who knows if you actually sang well or just bribed the judges? Apparently, you are a princess, anyway," Freen remarked sarcastically.
Becky rolled her eyes. "I can sing for you if you want?" She knew she was stepping into personal territory. And so did Freen.
Freen opened her laptop, pretending to work, but she wasn’t even in the mood to log into her company’s profile. She just… couldn’t.
"Eat first," she muttered, eyes flicking to her screen in an attempt to divert her attention.
Becky blinked in disbelief. I must be dreaming.
And if she was dreaming, she was going to give it her best shot at melting this ice queen.
She finished her pizza quickly, eager to pick up her guitar. But just as she strummed the first note, she choked on her throat. Hiccups.
The sudden sound alarmed both of them.
Freen immediately stood up and rushed to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.
"Such a baby. Can’t you chew your food properly?" she muttered, rubbing Becky’s back.
It startled Becky. She wasn’t expecting this—the warmth of Freen’s hand on her back, the tenderness of the gesture. Affection?
"Thank you," Becky murmured, still feeling the lingering sensation of Freen’s touch, goosebumps rising on her skin.
"All good?" Freen asked one last time.
"Yes, thank you, P’Freen. You’re so sweet," Becky said.
And that… that triggered something in Freen.
No. This wasn’t maintaining distance.
Quietly, with an alarmed expression, she sat back on the couch, desperately trying to shake off what had just happened. She touched Becky.
Her skin had been so soft, so warm. And Freen—Freen was struggling to keep her hands to herself. It’s too much.
Frustrated, she randomly opened several company portals at once, as if sheer work could distract her from this moment.
Meanwhile, Becky tuned her guitar.
"You know, it’s okay. You were feeling sleepy. Go to bed," Freen said.
"I can’t sleep without securing my place in the club—without Miss President’s approval," Becky teased.
Every time Becky called her President, it annoyed Freen. She wanted to hear her name instead.
"P’Freen, P’Freen, P’Freen," Becky repeated, breaking Freen’s train of thought.
"Oh," Freen blinked. "Were you calling me?"
"Yes," Becky grinned. "Shall I start?"
Freen nodded, knowing full well that Becky’s voice was her weakness—right after her sunshine smile.
And then, Becky began to sing.
When your legs don’t work like they used to before
And I can’t sweep you off of your feet
Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love
Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks...
Freen sat frozen, listening as Becky poured her heart into Thinking Out Loud.
So honey now
Take me into your loving arms
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars
Place your head on my beating heart
I'm thinking out loud
Maybe we found love right where we are
When the song ended, Freen finally spoke.
"Ed Sheeran fan, aren’t you?" she asked.
Becky smiled. "So… how was it?" She nodded eagerly, waiting for Freen’s response.
Freen kept her expression unreadable. "Uh… it was fine," she teased with a serious tone.
"Seriously?" Becky frowned in disappointment, searching for Freen’s eyes.
"You want me to lie?" Freen widened her eyes dramatically.
"Huh. It’s alright," Becky muttered, setting her guitar aside and flopping onto her bed with a dramatic sigh, clearly sulking.
At that very moment, Freen smiled—without even realizing it. She wanted to squeeze Becky’s not-so-chubby cheeks, to pull her into a hug, to tell her how beautiful and soul-soothing her voice was.
But all of it was happening in her head.
Lost in thought, Freen sat there, smiling unconsciously, until a sudden notification on her laptop snapped her out of her haze.
What is this? she wondered. Why does it feel like we don’t even need to talk much to form a bond? Every other relationship is built on conversation, then understanding, then friendship. But with Becky, it feels like it’s already there—like we’re already complete, like we just have to be here.
And then, as if to confirm the unsettling truth in her heart, her grandmother’s words echoed in her mind:
She didn’t have to talk to me. Her presence was enough.
That was enough to alarm Freen—to remind her to maintain distance, to stay away from these emotions before they took root.
But her heart—oh, her heart wouldn’t let her sleep.
All night, her mind searched desperately for a loophole. A way to stay close to Becky without crossing a line.
She lay awake, restless, praying—God, please have mercy on me. I don’t want her. I don’t want her for myself. I just... I just want to talk to her. Can you allow me this much?
But even God knew who she is lying to ;)
Morning arrived after a night that never made peace with Freen. Sleep had betrayed her, but a strange, awkward idea had crept into her mind. That idea could wait, though. Right now, she was indulging in her favorite morning ritual that she’s been following from the very first day—watching her angel sleep.
Becky’s face, so soft, so peaceful, had a gravity that pulled at Freen’s heart, a force too strong to resist. It was magnetic to her eyes. And above all, her soul-soothing voice still lingered in Freen’s mind like a lullaby.
Maybe we found love right where we are.
Smiling from ear to ear, Freen finally stood up and went for a walk.