Chapter 15
Spending what felt like mere seconds in the warmth of their embrace—though in reality, it had been a solid ten to fifteen minutes—Becky finally looked up, reluctant to unwrap her arms from Freen.
"So, sister, huh? Seriously?" she teased, her voice laced with playful disbelief. "I mean, this charming, irresistible girl— people line up to have their hearts broken by—is a sister to you?" She chuckled, masking the sting those words had left in her heart. But being this close to Freen, wrapped in her arms, she could be anything Freen wanted her to be. So, for now, she let the hurt slide.
Freen rolled her eyes. "Don't be too full of yourself," she countered, her voice challenging yet amused.
"You know what? I don’t care," Becky shrugged. "I can be anything for you—your little sister, your friend, your slave, your little bi—"
"HEY!" Freen cut her off, eyes widening at Becky’s unfiltered boldness.
"Oops, sorry," Becky giggled. "I mean it, P’Freen," she continued, her tone softening. "Look at us. We’re poles apart—we have nothing in common, and we started off so badly. This is probably the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and it can even be considered “long”. But still… with you, I never feel the need to have talks to feel complete in your presence."
She exhaled, searching for the right words.
"There’s just something about me when I’m with you, I feel… I feel complete." She paused before quickly adding, "Not in some cheesy rom-com way, but… I don’t know. I just want to be with you for as long as I can. I feel comfortable around you. Can you believe it? Around you? You barely even talk to me unless I tease you or piss you off first," she laughed lightly, then met Freen’s gaze, her voice turning soft.
"I feel happy, P’Freen," she admitted.
That speech was enough to awaken Freen’s demons—the ones she had spent years trying to bury.
The warmth of Becky’s embrace suddenly felt suffocating, like a noose tightening around her. Without a second thought, she unwrapped Becky’s arms from around her and took several steps back, putting much-needed distance between them.
"Bec, I’m not that person," she said, her voice laced with a sharp edge. "I’m rude. I’m careless. I’m ruthless. And I hurt people in ways you can’t even begin to imagine."
Her eyes darkened, haunted by ghosts she could never outrun.
"I destroy people," she continued, her tone colder now, distant. "To their death. I’m the red flag you should be running from, not clinging to."
Becky’s breath hitched, but Freen didn’t stop.
"I look after you because you’re my little nong," she admitted, her voice softening for just a second—before she steeled herself again. "But that’s exactly why I need you to stay away." She took another step back, as if putting even an inch between them could keep Becky safe from the wreckage she knew she would cause.
"Distance. Boundaries. Don’t get too friendly. I only know how to hurt people."
Her final plea came barely above a whisper.
"So please..."
Then, as if to sever whatever fragile thread still tethered them together, she turned her back to Becky and forced the words out.
"Don’t get used to this.
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Yeah, sure," Becky scoffed, unimpressed. And before Freen could react, Becky had already closed the distance again, wrapping her arms around her from behind.
"I don’t believe any of that," she murmured against Freen’s back. "I don’t know why you pretend to be this person, Phi, but all I do know is… you are the safest place I’ve ever been." She tightened her hold. "Please don’t pull away. I don’t need too much—just you. No pretending. No walls. No acting like the devil."
(Oh god, too much clinginess. Lord, give me strength to keep writing—I’m SOBBING.)
Freen turned in Becky’s grasp, their eyes locking as Becky’s arms remained wrapped around her waist.
"No, Bec," Freen said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t. I’ll only hurt you the way I did just now."
"It was nothing compared to how much affection you’ve given me since the very beginning, P’Freen," Becky countered, unwavering. "Please don’t pull away."
Freen sighed, frustration and turmoil clashing in her chest. She forcefully unwrapped Becky’s arms and stormed to the other side of the balcony, desperate to put space between them.
"EVERYTHING I ADORE DIES, BECKY," she snapped.
She had carefully replaced the word love with adore, even in her anger—because love was a word too dangerous for her to even speak aloud.
Becky froze.
"What?" she whispered, her brows furrowing. She stepped toward Freen. "What are you saying, Ba—P’Freen?"
"Forget it," Freen said, shaking off the thought before it could escape her lips.
"No, I’m all ears," Becky insisted, refusing to let it slide. "I don’t believe that. I just can’t. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met—determined, confident, perfect in everything you do. How could you possibly think like that? How can you believe such a thing, P’Freen?"
Freen let out a scoff, the sarcasm laced thick in her voice. "Oh yeah, strong personality," she mocked herself, shaking her head. "I’m nothing like that, Bec. Just an unfortunate, hapless, jinxed, ill-fated, snakebit mess." Her frustration bled into her voice, loud enough for Becky to hear but spoken more to herself.
"Why would you say that?" Becky asked, her curiosity deepening.
Freen finally turned to face her, searching Becky’s eyes before locking onto them with an unreadable, cold expression—one that carried the weight of self-destruction.
"I have blood on my fate," she stated, her voice hollow. "Every single person who has ever been close to me, everyone who has bonded deeply with me—dies." She exhaled sharply, as if saying it aloud made it even more real. "It’s my fate."
"That’s ridiculous," Becky shot back, refusing to look away.
Freen let out a dry laugh, void of humor. "Huh. Yeah? Well, I have testimonies written in the blood of my mom, my dad, my grandfather, my baby dog, my best friend… my art gallery, my projects—the ones I poured my heart into." Her voice wavered slightly before she continued, "Hell, I even caused my grandma’s sickness just by being too vulnerable around her."
She spat it all out in one breath, frustration bubbling over, like she had been holding it in for far too long. The weight was suffocating, and for once, it felt relieving to let someone else carry even a fraction of it. Even if that someone could very well become her next victim.
"No. No way. I don’t—" Becky tried to cut in, but Freen interrupted with a bitter smirk.
"I know," she said. "No one ever does. That’s why I never tell anyone. But the thing is… I hate myself enough to not care if someone else hates me too. I’m still processing it all, but it’s as real as the sky is blue."
Becky stood frozen, stunned into silence. But in the next moment, she stepped closer, her face twisted in disbelief. "How could that be?"
Freen huffed, then sank into the beanbag, making just enough space for Becky to join her. She tilted her head back, staring up at the sky before finally beginning.
"When I was little, before I even knew what life was, I became inseparable from my dad. There were a million things that could distract a child, but for me, it was always him. I loved my mom, but she was ambitious—focused on her career, running the business. My dad, though? He was there. He taught me to walk, taught me to talk. But then…" Freen inhaled sharply, as if preparing herself for the impact of what she was about to say.
"It was my first day of school," she continued, her voice quieter now. "I cried because all I wanted was my dad. But he wasn’t there—he was in Germany for my grandfather’s treatment. My mom… she was determined to give me the best life possible, to shape my future, so she sent me to school despite my protests. And when I came back…."
She trailed off.
Becky searched her eyes, but there was nothing in them. No tears. No emotion. Just an abyss of silent, hidden darkness.
And then, with a deep sigh, Freen said it.
"Let’s just say—he was no more. Caught in an accident."
"P’Freen…" Becky’s voice cracked as she instinctively wrapped her arms around Freen.
Freen didn’t move. She was frozen in place, stiff, staring blankly at the sky.
"I’m sorry," Becky murmured, rubbing her hands along Freen’s arms in comfort.
Freen let out a slow, humorless chuckle. "No, no. Not yet. I haven’t even begun."
Becky’s heart clenched.
Then came my best friend. She was everything to me in my lonely life—when my mom was busy running her business, doing her best, and my grandma was occupied taking care of my grandpa. All I had was this one friend back at school, Title.
She was my support system. She taught me beautiful things, stood by me when I cried over my dad’s memory, and gave all of herself to me, like nothing and no one else mattered more. I knew I couldn’t survive a day without her.
Then came the summer vacation. The thought of spending days without each other was terrifying, so we promised to meet at each other's homes every now and then. But then my grandma decided to take me on a trip around the globe. The idea was intriguing. Even I wanted to escape that huge mansion, where everything suffocated me.
So, I spent my holidays flying around.
But when I came back...
Freen paused, but this time, there was a smirk on her lips—one laced with bitter amusement, as if she were laughing at her own cursed fate. Becky's grip tightened as she moved closer, invading Freen’s personal space, but only to comfort her.
"Oh, let's cut it short." Freen exhaled sharply, a bitter edge to her voice.
"Then my grandma gave me a puppy. He was like my baby... but within a few months, he died too. Then came my grandpa—he was the only one who could distract me with his stories and wisdom, my best friend at the time. He went to Germany again for treatment. He promised to come back... but he never did."
A brief silence hung between them before Freen continued, her voice steady yet distant.
"And then my mom, of course. When I was thirteen, she died in a car accident during one of her business trips. The irony? It happened just when she had finally decided to put her business on autopilot so she could spend more time with me..."
The sound of sobbing broke the moment, but it wasn’t Freen’s. It was Becky. She was crying hard, her face buried in Freen’s shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around her.
Freen, unfazed, rubbed Becky’s back in slow, soothing circles. "It’s alright, Bec. There’s more if you want me to go on."
But Becky said nothing—just clung to her, drowning in silent grief.
Freen sighed and went on. "Then I started to notice the pattern. Too late, dumb me. It’s not just people I get close to... it’s anything I pour my heart into.
With all these things happening I found myself alive coz of my art, my paintings soon I started an art gallery but someone burned that down too when i was abroad.
I have a clothing brand that I work on side, My latest project, Submitted for Paris Fashion Week. It got rejected—because, of course, I had poured my soul into it." A hollow chuckle escaped her lips.
"I know no one would believe any of this. But I know—deep down in my bones—that it’s real. And I think... that’s enough."
She finally exhaled, as if releasing the weight of years in a single breath. And yet, not a single tear fell from her eyes.
The trauma ran too deep.
The self-hatred, too strong.
The anger at her fate, too consuming.
So much so, that it had turned her into something unbreakable.
Something stone-cold.
And it was clear that things would stay that way.
Wiping away Becky's tears and wrapping her in a blanket, Freen spoke, her voice calm but firm.
"I know it's hard to believe, but you don’t have to. Don’t think too much into it. It’s my life, and I’m managing. I just hope you’ll keep your distance."
"Even though we’re not close, ("Seriously, Freen? After surrendering all of yourself to her, you have the audacity to say that?")
Her inner voice screamed at her but she silenced it and continued., I want you to be careful. Now that you know I’m full of red flags, I hope you won’t be blind to them."
Becky looked up at her, her eyes filled with disbelief, refusing to accept what she was hearing.
"How can you go through all that alone? It’s mentally exhausting, pure, terrifying trauma for life... and all you care about is me?" Becky asked, her voice laced with shock.
"I’m managing, Bec. As long as I keep everyone at a distance, I can manage anything," Freen muttered. Then, with a sigh, she stood up.
"It’s late. I don’t even know where we’re heading with this." She met Becky's eyes, her gaze intense. "But we have a long way back home tomorrow, and if there's one takeaway from this entire episode, it’s this—distance, little sister, distance."
"Get some sleep soon."
With that, Freen turned and went to bed.
Becky, still frozen in shock, stared up at the sky, the word sister echoing in her mind. But this was not the time to be selfish—not when the only person she cared about was suffering through hell every second of her life.
"I don’t believe you. How can you be so ruthless with such a beautiful soul?" Becky’s mind screamed as she gazed at the stars, as if arguing with fate or some higher power.
"I don’t believe you, and I know you’ll try your best to push me out of her life. But if that’s the case, so be it. I won’t leave—not now, not ever. You watch me." Becky continued her debate.
"I don’t care if she calls me her sister or not. Just being in her presence is a blessing. I won’t try to be anything more if that’s how she sees me, but hear me out—I will not leave her alone. You’ll see."
With that final thought, Becky stomped her foot, then made her way to bed.
The next day’s ride back home was quiet. The entire journey was filled with background music, short meal breaks, and Freen’s cold yet subtle ways of looking after Becky—opening her water bottle, holding the car door open, ensuring her seatbelt was on, ordering food for her.
Meanwhile, Becky was making herself determined to find out more about all this fate, fortune, and whether there was any way to escape it—if that was even the case.
As they neared the dorm gate, Freen lowered the volume of Invisible String by Taylor Swift.
"I want to hear you," she said suddenly.
"Hmm?" Becky responded, confused.
"I want to hear you on the radio, just like Taylor Swift. It’s a big day tomorrow. I want you to focus on your career, your dreams... and stay bubbly, carefree, clumsy, naughty—the sunshine everyone knows you as. Look at you—I’ve turned you into an overthinker, intense, in just one day. Don’t let me grow on you."
Becky was surprised. This was Freen’s way of wishing her luck—not directly, but in her own cold, bold, and determined style.
"I have many sides," Becky replied, smirking. "You just happened to unlock Dora the Explorer in me."
Freen frowned slightly, not fully understanding what she meant. But by then, they had already reached the dorm gate.
"You go inside," Freen said. "I have to stop by college—I have a final meeting with Kade and Nam before tomorrow’s event."
Becky nodded, stepping out of the car. But just before shutting the door, she turned back and said with a confident smile, "You will hear me."
"Huh?" Freen frowned.
"You will hear me on the radio one day," Becky repeated, grinning ear to ear.
Freen nod “you better” with straight face and drove off with a smile on her face not letting becky to have any clue about.
And just like that, their weekend came to an end.
Becky knew that one day, they would open up to each other more easily but she never expected them to dive this deep into such a serious conversation—not this soon.
Not that she was complaining.
But she was definitely overwhelmed. Because now, she finally understood Freen—and why she was the way she was.