Chapter 16
Finally, Freshers' Day arrived. The entire university buzzed with excitement, alive with an electrifying energy. Even though it was broad daylight, the campus shimmered as if it were illuminated by the thrill and anticipation of the students. The festive vibe carried a scent in the air, one that urged everyone to be their best self.
VIP guests and star performers were arriving one after another, and the members of the President’s Club were tirelessly welcoming them while simultaneously overseeing every detail—ensuring the decorum and aesthetics of the university remained impeccable. Freen was caught up in it all, busier than ever.
On the other side, posters and flyers were scattered across the campus. The performers and their acts had been marketed exceptionally well, generating an undeniable buzz among the students. Among them, the Elite Singing Club’s flyers stood out—beautiful, striking, and charismatic. The group photos and individual pairings showcased the duets for the evening, but one, in particular, stole the spotlight: Jeff and Becky.
Their chemistry leapt off the poster, setting off a wave of excitement. Students were buzzing with curiosity, eagerly shipping them together, and anticipating their performance. The rumor mill was in overdrive.
Freen was well aware of all the chatter, but as long as it was Jeff, she had no reason to worry. A person with a heart as kind as his could never be a threat. She was fiercely protective of Becky, but that didn’t mean she had to feel insecure about genuine people like Jeff. She appreciated decent human beings.
Still, hearing everyone ship Becky and Jeff stung—just a little. But Freen reminded herself that in this industry, such buzz was inevitable; it was all just entertainment.
On the other hand, Mike was fuming. He was supposed to be in Jeff’s place, the one standing next to Becky. The rumors, the excitement, the chemistry—it was driving him insane. He was barely keeping his frustration in check, his patience thinning with each passing second.
For Freen and Becky, the day had been nothing but chaos. They had been so caught up in their respective responsibilities that they hadn’t even had a moment to exchange glances—the kind that usually recharged them. Freen had left early for campus, while Becky woke up at her usual time, missing her entirely.
My Ice Queen:Not gonna wish me luck? (Becky messaged Freen, realizing she hadn't even seen her today.)
Sissss:You’re already talented. You don’t need luck. (Freen replied in her usual cold, nonchalant tone.)
My Ice Queen:🥺 (Becky, of course, knew exactly how to make Freen cave in.)
Sissss:👍🏻🙌🏻 (Freen, still maintaining her vibe.)
My Ice Queen:WORDS 😡😤
Sissss:You better sing well today. Lots of VIP guests from the industry are here. I want to hear you on the radio, remember?! Even though you’re already amazing—no need for luck, I’m confident in you. (Freen sighed, typing out a long message but still refusing to explicitly wish Becky luck. Typical of her.)
My Ice Queen:☺️😘 (Becky knowingly sent a kiss emoji, blushing as she thought about how she had Freen wrapped around her finger. She knew exactly how to make her open up.)
"It’s definitely BackFreen ," Becky thought, giggling to herself just as Mike approached her.
Meanwhile, Freen rolled her eyes at the kiss emoji, a shy smile playing on her lips. Shaking her head, she tucked her phone away and made her way to receive her grandmother.
"Here’s, my little queen!" Grandma approached Freen with open arms.
Freen instinctively stepped back, lowering her voice into a hush. "I'm not your kid here, Grandma. Remember to be low-key—call me Freen," she said, handing her a bouquet of flowers before leading her toward the VIP panel.
"Wait, wait!" Grandma called out, waving someone over. "Ah, here you are!"
Freen turned back, confused, only to find Miss Orantara approaching. Her eyes widened as her grandmother and Miss Orantara intertwined their hands and walked toward the panel together, completely unfazed by the buzzing crowd around them.
"You’ve got to be kidding me," Freen muttered in utter disbelief. Her eyes never left her grandmother, worried she might do something outrageous and end up in the headlines tomorrow.
As the performances carried on one by one, Freen could hardly believe her eyes. Her grandmother was feeding Miss Orantara, handing her water, and even dabbing her mouth with a napkin—like lovebirds lost in their own world. Freen was absolutely losing it.
"What is this behavior?! Playing teenage PDA at this age?" she grumbled under her breath, quickly dialing her grandmother’s number.
"What, dear?" Grandma answered cheerfully.
"You better stop it," Freen hissed.
"Stop what?"
"All this teenage rom-com cheese romance of yours! Grandma, we are at a university event, surrounded by stars and media. What are you thinking?" she warned.
Her grandmother chuckled. "We’re old, Saro. Even if we act a little clingy, no one’s imagination could possibly go that far. So chill."
Freen sighed in exasperation. "Oh god, whatever," she muttered, ending the call. She turned her attention back to the stage, scanning for Becky. The entire singing elite club was gathered in a far corner, getting ready for their performance. But Becky was nowhere to be found.
Irin, Nop, and Mew were all there—but where was Becky?
A sinking feeling settled in Freen’s stomach as she quickly dialed Becky’s number.
Meanwhile, in the club’s private studio, Mike had convinced Becky to follow him, claiming there was a last-minute change in the setlist she needed to know about. But it was all a lie.
"What is it, P’Mike? We have no time! The performance is about to start!" Becky said as they approached the empty studio. Something in her gut felt off.
"Don’t worry, it’ll be quick. The new setlist is inside. Come in," Mike said, holding the door open. As Becky stepped inside, he shut the door behind them.
Becky swallowed hard. Her instincts screamed that something was wrong. Just then, her phone rang for a split second as she picked it up quickly but couldn’t answer as Mike shoved her against the wall, trapping her both arms in his tight grip.
"Do you think you can play fake couple with Jeff and skyrocket your career?" he spat, his breath hot against her face.
"P’Mike, back off! You’re hurting me!" Becky growled, using all her strength to push him away.
Mike smirked. "Oh, it’ll hurt, alright. Because I’ll shatter your fake couple image and spread our ‘intimate moment’ like this one that is about to happen all over social media. Trust me, we’ll both benefit from it. I’m the real game, Becky."
He leaned in closer. Becky’s heart pounded. "If you touch me, I swear to God, P’Mike—"
BAM!THUD!
Before Becky could finish her sentence, Mike was on the floor, nose bleeding. She looked up, and there she was—Freen Sarocha, burning with rage. She had heard everything through Becky’s earlier call.
Freen grabbed Mike by the collar and yanked him to his feet before landing another brutal punch. Thud! He hit the floor again, groaning in pain. Becky instinctively stepped back, clutching her chest, watching as Freen’s fury unleashed. With every punch, she closed her eyes for a second, then peeked to ensure Freen was okay.
"HOW DARE YOU?!" BAM! Another punch.
"Stop it! You have no idea who you’re messing with!" Mike choked out, trying to form words.
"OH, I KNOW EXACTLY WHO I’M MESSING WITH—A PERVERT! AND NOW I’LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY, ESPECIALLY YOUR HANDS! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER?!" Freen roared, her voice deadly.
The look in her eyes was terrifying. Even if the ruthless devil himself stood before her, she would’ve kicked his ass, too.
Becky stood frozen. She knew trying to stop Freen now can fireback so all she could do was hope it would end soon.
The floor was painted red with Mike’s blood. Finally, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run.
"RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN! AND DON’T YOU DARE SHOW YOUR FACE ON THIS CAMPUS AGAIN!" Freen thundered.
"My dad is one of the trustees! I can’t just do that!" Mike groaned, clutching his ribs.
"THEN TELL HIM HE’S EXPELLED FROM HIS POSITION BECAUSE OF YOU!" Freen spat, still seething.
Becky’s eyes widened. Does a normal student president hold this much power? She took mental notes.
Mike staggered back. "Who are you to decide that?!"
"DON’T MAKE ME DRAG YOUR FATHER’ KICKED OUT IN DISGRACE BECAUSE OF YOUR ACTIONS. IF YOU HAVE ANY SENSE LEFT, WALK AWAY AND TELL HIM YOURSELF, SO IT WILL BE EASY FOR YOU & HIM TO ESCAPE ALL THE SHAME" Freen warned, her voice laced with venom.
Mike’s face paled. Freen’s glare alone sent chills down his spine. He took a few hesitant steps back. Freen took a step forward. Before she could raise her fist again, Mike bolted—running out of the campus like his life depended on it.
The moment he was out of sight, Freen turned around. Becky stood there, speechless.
As soon as Mike disappeared from sight, Freen spun around, her entire demeanor shifting in an instant. The fury that had burned in her eyes just moments ago melted into something raw, something frantic. She rushed to Becky, her hands trembling as they ghosted over her face, her shoulders, down her arms—searching, checking.
"Did he hurt you?" Freen's voice was tight, thick with barely restrained panic. She tilted Becky's chin left, then right, scanning every inch of her for even the slightest mark. Her fingers traced down Becky’s arms, lingering at the spots where Mike had grabbed her, as if she could erase the touch, as if she could undo what had happened.
Becky could only watch, mesmerized. Just seconds ago, Freen had been terrifying—fire in her eyes, fists unforgiving, rage spilling from every inch of her being. But now, she was something entirely different. Soft. Protective. Consumed with worry.
"Hey, hey, I'm fine, P’Freen," Becky finally managed, her voice gentle as she searched for Freen’s eyes. And when she found them—when their gazes locked—it was like time itself had stilled. That single look held something deeper, something unspoken, something that reached beyond words.
And then, for the first time, Freen was the one to close the distance and gave Becky a tight hug pulled Becky into a crushing embrace, arms tightening around her as if she never intended to let go. Becky felt Freen’s heartbeat—rapid, unsteady, desperate. And she felt the slight tremble in Freen’s shoulders, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly.
Tears welled in Becky’s eyes. Not from fear, not from what had just happened—but from the overwhelming weight of Freen’s love and care. She tightened her arms around Freen, burying her face in her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her, the safety of her.
And in that moment, history was made—Freen had tears in her eyes. Silent, shaken. She hadn’t cried in years, not since her mother passed. But now, the weight of everything cracked through her defenses, making her chest tighten, her breath unsteady. She fought to keep the tears from spilling, but Becky could feel it—the tremor in her hold, the way her body quivered ever so slightly.
Becky didn’t need to see the tears to know they were there. She could sense them, raw and unspoken, in the way Freen clung to her, in the way the world around them seemed to fade into something weightless, something almost ethereal.
And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, nothing else mattered.