Chapter 17
“Ohkee, hurry up! Your performance is up,” Freen urged, gently pulling Becky a little away. “Forget about everything for now—go give it your best shot. I promise I’ll erase every trace of that boy from this college’s history. Just… don’t let anyone know about it.”
Becky hesitated. “But what about Mike’s place?”
“Mew and Nop aren’t in the club picture—pick either of them for his replacement. And he was a senior, anyway. It’s all about the freshers.”
Becky gave a small nod, her mind still racing, but she had no time to dwell. She turned to rush back to her group when Freen called out, “And Bec—”
Becky spun around.
“All the very, very best. Break a leg.” Freen’s voice was steady, unwavering, full of confidence in her.
A slow smile spread across Becky’s lips. Without thinking, she dashed back toward Freen, wrapping her in a quick hug before pressing a fleeting kiss to her cheek. Then, just as swiftly, she pulled away and ran off.
Freen stood frozen for a second, then shook her head in disbelief, her lips curling in amusement. Becky’s boldness never failed to catch her off guard.
Back on stage, Becky had already missed her group performance—it was time for her duet with Jeff.
Meanwhile, Freen had unfinished business. She stepped away, dialing a number. The line barely rang before a voice answered, “Hey, boss, what’s up?”
“Krik, I want every single trace of Mike and his dad erased from this college’s history. Do the paperwork,” Freen ordered, her voice clipped and firm.
“What?! But why—”
“Later.” She cut the call before he could ask more. Her focus shifted back to the stage—back to Becky.
The lights dimmedand a hush fell over the auditorium. A single spotlight illuminated Becky and Jeff as they took their places on stage, the world around them fading into darkness. The moment their voices filled the air, the crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement buzzing like static electricity.
They began to sing Rewrite The Stars, their voices blending seamlessly, each note wrapping around the audience like a spell. But while the crowd saw two performers lost in the emotions of the song, Becky and Jeff were lost in something much deeper—a world of their own, where only the music and its meaning existed.
🎶 You know I want you
It's not a secret I try to hide
You know you want me
So don't keep sayin' our hands are tied
You claim it's not in the cards
And fate is pullin' you miles away and out of reach from me
But you're hearin' my heart
So who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny? 🎶
Becky’s voice soared, clear and aching, every word sinking into her like a quiet confession. She wasn’t just singing—she was feeling. She was thinking of Freen, of everything unsaid, of everything she wished could be rewritten.
Jeff took over, his voice deep and steady, adding to the magic unfolding on stage.
🎶 What if we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine
Nothin' could keep us apart
You'll be the one I was meant to find
It's up to you, and it's up to me
No one could say what we get to be
So why don't we rewrite the stars?
And maybe the world could be ours, tonight
Ah-oh (no, no, no, no)
Ah-oh (mm) 🎶
But this wasn’t just a performance.
Between the lyrics, between every exchanged glance, Becky and Freen were speaking—without words, without movement, but with raw, unfiltered emotion. Becky’s voice carried the ache, the longing, the silent plea for something more. And Freen—watching from the audience, her heart pounding—felt every bit of it.
For the first time in years, Freen felt herself unraveling.
🎶 All I want is to fly with you
All I want is to fall with you
So just give me all of you
It feels impossible (it's not impossible)
Is it impossible?
Say that it's possible 🎶
The final verse wrapped around Freen like an embrace she didn’t know she needed. Her walls, the ones she had built so carefully, cracked open with every note.
🎶 And how do we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine
And nothin' could keep us apart
'Cause you are the one I was meant to find
It's up to you, and it's up to me
No one could say what we get to be
And why don't we rewrite the stars?
Changin' the world to be ours
Ay, ah-oh (no, no, no, no)
Ah-oh (mm) 🎶
As the last note lingered in the air, a moment of silence stretched before the crowd erupted into applause. The VIP guests rose to their feet, their cheers thunderous, their approval undeniable.
While Freen, who had always been stone-cold, untouched by the weight of vulnerability, felt an unfamiliar warmth creeping up her spine. A tightness settled in her chest, a slow, aching squeeze that threatened to break through the armor she had spent years perfecting.
And then, it happened—her vision blurred, a sting pricked at the corners of her eyes. Tears.
“Not again” Freen scold her inner self and quickly wiped them up.
She hadn't cried in years, Yet here she was, caught in the crossfire of something she couldn't name, something Becky had unknowingly awakened in her.
Inside her, emotions clashed and collided—an explosion of feelings she could neither contain nor control. It was as if every locked-away piece of her was rattling against its cage, demanding to be felt. Love, longing, fear, and something dangerously close to hope surged through her veins, setting her entire being alight. She felt it in every breath, every pulse, every trembling inch of her body.
And in that moment, she knew—something had shifted.
Something had changed forever.
The entire event wrapped up successfully, leaving the university basking in yet another wave of recognition. Their grand celebration, held in honor of welcoming new students—the future torchbearers of the nation—had once again made headlines. News outlets buzzed with praise, and their institution cemented its reputation, making an impact not just locally but across the world.
As dusk painted the sky in deep shades of violet and gold, the day's summary could be distilled into a few defining moments: Mike was out of the picture, Becky and Jeff had sent shockwaves through the industry, and the crowd was still reeling from their performance. Social media exploded with their names, trends surging, and even seasoned producers had taken notice. Becky had unknowingly stepped onto the threshold of a life-changing career, doors cracking open to possibilities she hadn't dared to dream of before.
But while Becky was at the peak of her high, basking in the glow of newfound recognition, Freen was drowning in something else entirely. Vulnerability. It clung to her, weighed down her chest, made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t in years. Something had melted inside her, and she didn’t know how to deal with it.
As the afterparty wound down, an entrance stirred the atmosphere—Krik. He walked in with purpose, he had his reasons obviously. A—he was curious and dying to know the full story so he could spin it into papers for further actions, and B—he needed their grandmother’s approval and signature before making such drastic changes to college records.
From across the dimly lit hall, amid laughter, clinking glasses, and a whirlwind of compliments, Becky’s attention wasn’t on her group of best friends—Irin, Mew, and Nop—who were celebrating without restraint. Her focus was elsewhere.
Her eyes were locked on them.
Freen and Krik, standing close, deeply engrossed in conversation. Krik’s expression was effortless, his demeanor cool, while Freen spoke with conviction, her brows furrowed. Becky could see the tension in her posture, the weight of whatever she was saying.
A sharp pang twisted in Becky’s chest. Jealousy? Maybe. Insecurity? Definitely.
From the outside looking in, they seemed like two puzzle pieces fitting seamlessly together—exuding what could only be described as couple goals. And Becky hated that she noticed. The unsettling feeling gnawed at her, creeping into her bones.
Freen, in reality, was detailing how Mike had dared to lay a hand on Becky. Her voice held an edge, laced with anger, but also something softer—worry. And then, as if sensing the weight she carried, Krik wrapped his arms around her in a comforting hug.
And that was it.
Becky lost it.
The seed of insecurity rooted itself deeper. She turned back to the party, forcing herself to be louder, bolder. Her laughter rang out sharper, her movements more animated. She danced harder, grooved deeper, flitted from conversation to conversation, extending her social net like a perfect butterfly—anything to drown out the whispering thoughts clawing at her mind.
But Freen was watching, too. And with every forced laugh, every fleeting touch Becky exchanged with others, something inside her twisted.
What if she pushed Becky too far?
What if, in her hesitation, she left Becky open to finding someone else—someone who could give her what Freen couldn't?
What if she lost her before she even had the chance to hold on?
The what-ifs screamed in her mind, louder than the music, louder than the cheers.
And tonight…
Their shared space would definitely be heavy with all the things left unsaid.
Back in their room, Becky was freshened up, shaking off the weight of the day—the highs and lows still settling in her chest. The sheer intensity of it all was overwhelming. As she mindlessly scrolled through social media, the noise of the internet buzzing about her and Jeff being shipped together barely registered in her mind. She wasn’t really paying attention.
Then, the door swung open.
Freen barged in, their eyes locking instantly.
Question. Question. Throw a question, Freen. Her inner voice urged, desperate to keep her from sinking into the warmth of Becky’s hazel brown eyes.
“So, is this the room of the superstar Becky Rebecca Patricia Armstrong?” Freen teased, stepping inside with an easy smirk.
Becky rolled her eyes, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. Get in, Lieutenant Freen Sarochaa, the savior.”
They both chuckled, and with that, the air between them lightened. Freen made her way toward her side of the room, slipping into her routine to freshen up.
A while later, she reappeared, coffee in hand, making herself comfortable—on Becky’s bed. Becky, still glued to her phone, took in the sheer magnitude of how their college had taken over social media.
“Already busy, huh?” Freen mused, sipping her coffee. “Should I book an appointment with Irin instead?”
Becky blinked, surprised—not just by Freen initiating the conversation, but also by the way she had so effortlessly closed the space between them. Sitting on her bed, invading her personal space, as if it were second nature.
“Stop teasing already,” Becky huffed. “It’s too much to handle. Look at this—social media is going crazy. It’s exciting but… terrifying at the same time.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Freen’s tone was calm, reassuring. “Just don’t let it distract you.”
Becky glanced at her. “You already ordered my milk tea, right?” Her voice softened as she searched Freen’s eyes for confirmation.
Freen’s lips quirked up. “Milk tea?” She raised an eyebrow. “You want to celebrate your big day with milk tea? What happened to celebrating life a little?”
Becky scoffed. “Look who’s talking.”
Freen smirked, but before she could respond, Becky casually added, “Haven’t we already been partying the entire day?”
The second she said it, an image of Freen and Krik flashed in her mind, making her expression falter slightly—just enough for the color to drain from her face.
“True,” Freen hummed, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Somebody was partying way too hard.”
She tried to keep her tone light, but the words left a strange taste in her mouth. The memory of Becky being so loud, so carefree, mingling with everyone at the party—distracting herself—itched at something deep in Freen’s chest.
For a moment, silence settled between them.
Then, with a quiet inhale, Freen shifted the conversation to the real reason she had come to Becky's bed in the first place. It wasn’t just casual teasing or the comfort of their shared space—she needed to make sure Becky was truly okay.
The incident with Mike had been unsettling, and Freen couldn’t shake the worry that it might have left a deeper impact on Becky’s mind. She didn’t want this to be something that lingered in the shadows, slowly dimming the light that Becky carried so effortlessly. Freen had seen too many people lose parts of themselves to moments like these, and she refused to let Becky be one of them. No matter what, she wouldn’t allow someone like Mike—someone so unworthy—to leave a scar on Becky’s spirit.
With a quiet exhale, she finally broke the silence. “Hey… are you alright? I mean, with everything that happened with Mike?”
There was genuine concern in her voice, but it was the way her eyes held Becky’s gaze—so full of worry, so full of care—that made Becky’s heart melt all over again.
“Yes, P’Freen,” Becky reassured her, her voice gentle yet firm. “I understand that there are people in this world who will try to take advantage of others for their own selfish desires. I was shaken by what happened, but I won’t let it affect me. If anything, it’s only going to make me stronger. I promise.”
She spoke in a comforting tone, knowing full well that Freen was probably more worried than she was. So she made sure to ease her fears, to assure her that she wouldn’t let an incident like this dim her light.
Freen let out a slow, deep sigh, the tension in her chest easing just a little. Her fingers tightened around the warm ceramic of her coffee cup as she looked at Becky, her voice steady but laced with something unspoken.
"Even though I told you we should keep our distance… you know why," Freen hesitated, her words careful, deliberate. "Just know that I’m always here for you. If you ever find yourself in a situation like that again—something threatening, something dangerous—you can reach out to me, okay?" There was a quiet but firm warning in her voice, a reassurance wrapped in concern.
Becky held Freen’s gaze, her hazel-brown eyes reflecting emotions she wasn’t sure how to name. The thought of distance between them always left an ache in her chest, a quiet sadness that settled in the spaces between their moments together.
"Today was… a lot, wasn’t it?" Becky murmured, her voice softer now. Then, with a slight furrow in her brows, she continued, "You could’ve gotten hurt, P’Fiieen." Worry clouded her expression as she confessed the thought that had been weighing on her the entire day.
Freen’s lips parted, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. "Trust me, Bec, I can do worse." The quiet intensity in her voice made Becky’s breath hitch for a second. She hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t meant to let Becky hear the promise hidden between the lines. But it was there, raw and unfiltered—a silent vow that Freen would go to any lengths for her.
Becky blinked, processing, then suddenly jutted her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "I want a hug," she demanded boldly, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Freen scoffed, chuckling as she shook her head. "No, you want your milk tea, which I already ordered. So, no," she teased, standing up from the bed, fully intending to walk away—
But before she could take a single step, Becky grabbed her wrist, her grip firm yet gentle, and pulled her back into a hug.
"Careful, Bec! I have hot coffee in my hand," Freen warned, stretching her arm out as far as possible to keep the cup away from them. But even as she protested, her other arm instinctively wrapped around Becky, responding to the warmth pressed against her.
For a moment, the world outside blurred, the sound of their breathing mingling in the small space between them.
"So much for maintaining the distance, huh?" Freen murmured, shaking her head in disbelief, though there was no real reprimand in her tone.
Becky tilted her head up, meeting Freen’s gaze with unwavering eyes. Their faces were close—too close. Freen could feel the warmth of Becky’s breath ghosting over her lips, the air between them charged with something unspoken. The space that was meant to exist, the distance Freen had insisted on, was slipping away, dissolving between them like mist under the morning sun.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them pulled back. The world outside blurred, time itself seeming to stretch and fold, seconds melting into minutes. The moment was intoxicating, weightless, suspended in its own reality. Without words, without movement, Becky gave her answer to Freen’s insistence on distance—Never.
Then, as if the universe itself had decided to intervene, the sharp chime of the doorbell rang through the air, shattering the fragile stillness. The spell broke. Time returned, reality seeped back in, and yet, even as they pulled apart, the weight of the almost lingered between them.
"Must be your milk tea," Freen muttered as she stood up, stretching her limbs before making her way to the door. Becky, still lounging on the bed, let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes with a Why now? expression.
The moment Freen opened the door, her breath hitched. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Sure, it was Becky's milk tea… but it was being held by her grandmother.
"Not going to invite me in? I didn't raise you with such poor manners," Grandma quipped, stepping inside without waiting for permission. Freen remained frozen at the door, still processing the sudden intrusion.
Becky, equally stunned, blinked rapidly as she recognized the woman before her—the Chief Head of their university. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her clothes before offering a respectful bow. Meanwhile, Freen snapped out of her daze and stomped back into the room.
"What are you doing here, Grandma?" Freen's voice was laced with irritation, cold and distant.
"Well, you didn’t let me meet the little princess you’ve been ordering late-night milk teas for," Grandma teased, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she turned to Becky and enveloped her in a warm hug.
Freen flushed, biting her tongue, while Becky, utterly lost, stood stiffly in Grandma’s embrace. Did she just call me a princess? And more importantly, is Freen the grandchild of the university’s head? The weight of that revelation was overwhelming.
"Call me Grandma," the older woman insisted, her tone gentle yet firm. "Freen has been hiding you from me, but I have my eyes everywhere."
Becky could only nod, unsure of how to respond.
"GRANDMA!" Freen snapped, drawing the older woman's attention back.
Before she could scold her further, Grandma turned back to Becky and handed her the milk tea. "Here you go, princess. You were absolutely stunning today. Your performance was impeccable." She gently patted Becky's head, the affection in her touch making Becky’s heart warm.
Then, Grandma turned her sharp gaze back to Freen. "Well? Where are your manners, Saro? I didn’t raise you like this. At least offer me a seat."
With a dramatic sigh, she plopped down onto the couch before Freen could even react.
"If you’re here just to embarrass me, I think you’ve done an excellent job already. What more do you want?" Freen huffed, crossing her arms.
Grandma waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm not here for you—I’m here for this charming young lady." She turned back to Becky with a smile, patting the seat beside her. "Come here, dear. Sit with me."
Becky hesitated for a moment before making her way over, sitting carefully beside Grandma. Meanwhile, Freen stood in the middle of the room, arms still crossed, staring at the scene unfolding before her like she had lost control of the script.
Grandma sighed dramatically. "Even I wanted to know who this charismatic person is—the one you've been spending all your weekends at the beach with."
Freen groaned, running a hand down her face. "Stop it, Grandma. This is too much. Why are you spying on me?"
"Spying?" Grandma scoffed. "You’re my only grandchild. You think I’d just let you wander around carefree without keeping an eye on you?"
Freen rolled her eyes and sulked back onto the bed, arms still firmly crossed.
Grandma turned to Becky again, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Becky, dear, I have a feeling you can keep a secretor two, can’t you?"
Becky, still overwhelmed, nodded shyly.
"Good." Grandma leaned in slightly. "I’m not just Freen’s grandmother. Your father is actually a very respected business partner of our family."
Becky’s eyes widened. The weight of that information alone was shocking enough, but then—
"And," Grandma added, smirking, "Freen likes to keep things lowkey. No one really knows about her… except Kirk."
That part made Becky's stomach twist a little. Kirk?
Noticing the shift in Becky’s expression, Grandma quickly reassured her, "Oh, don’t worry—Kirk is family. More like a brother to Freen."
Freen nearly choked. "Brother?! All my life you’ve been shipping me with him, and now you’re suddenly calling him my brother?" She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.
Becky, on the other hand, felt oddly relieved.
Sensing the tension, Grandma’s eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oh, do you want to know a real secret? One no one else knows but me?"
Becky’s curiosity piqued, and she eagerly nodded.
Grandma leaned in, whispering something into Becky’s ear. Whatever she said made Becky’s eyes go impossibly wide, her cheeks instantly turning a shade of deep crimson.
Freen, watching the exchange, felt her patience wearing thin.
"Well, anything else, Grandma?" Freen asked in a mocking tone.
"I think my cards are all played," Grandma said as she stood up. "It was soooo lovely to finally meet you, Becky. You did so well today, and because of that, I want to invite you to dinner this weekend."
"No way," Freen immediately objected, while Becky furrowed her brows in confusion.
"Uh-uh, I know exactly what you're doing, Grandma, and I will not let you run your script on us," Freen clarified, standing her ground.
Grandma chuckled, her smile dripping with sarcasm. "We’ll see, my baby, we’ll see." And with that, she wrapped Freen in a final hug of goodbye.
Freen pulled back slightly, her expression serious. "No, I'm serious, Grandma. I know what's going on in your mind. Please stop all of it. She is like my little sister," she reassured.
But it felt less like she was convincing Grandma and more like she was trying to convince the universe itself.
Grandma blinked once, then suddenly burst into laughter—rich, amused, knowing laughter. She turned her back to Freen and, before walking out, winked at Becky.
"Fool yourself, Freen," she teased. "Fool yourself."
Becky couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips at the way Grandma handled Freen so effortlessly.
Freen, noticing the betrayal, shot Becky a sharp glare.
Becky squeaked and immediately rushed to shut the door behind Grandma before Freen could say anything else.
And oh, the night was far from over coz wounded tigress was waiting for becky to spill the secret grandma shred with her.