Chapter 27
It was a special day—Becky’s birthday. She was with her parents, and Freen had every reason to skip college as always, yet she showed up. And not just briefly—she lingered longer than she intended. Because the noise in her head wouldn’t quiet down. She hadn’t done anything for Becky’s birthday, and the guilt gnawed at her, And now, it was eating her alive. So, she came to college, not for lectures or notes, but to quietly fish for something—anything—to reassure herself that Becky was happy… that she was okay.
It had been almost a month since their fight.
A month of distance.
A month of aching silences.
A month of realizing—quietly, deeply—that they had loved each other all along, just in their own imperfect ways.
Freen made her way to the canteen.
“Look, look, look who’s finally here!” Nam said dramatically, throwing her arms wide.
“Ohh! The sun must’ve risen from the west today,” Kade added, not missing the beat.
“Drop it already,” Freen replied dryly, pulling out a spare chair and settling down beside them.
“So... what brings you here?” Kade asked with curiosity dancing in her voice.
“Yeah, what can we do for you, Miss Unexpected Visitor?” Nam teased.
“Can’t I just sit here like a normal person?” Freen shot back, her tone cold but familiar.
“Sure you can,” Nam said with a smirk. “But why today?”
She knew Freen well enough to tell—Freen couldn’t let Becky’s birthday go without doing something, even if it was silently awkward like last time, when she’d asked Nam to deliver a custom bouquet of white lilies to Becky without a note.
“I thought you all would be busy, partying or something. So I came to college instead. But looks like I wasn’t lucky enough to avoid you guys,” Freen added with fake sarcasm, carefully trying to fish out the information she wanted—How’s Becky?And how is she celebrating today?
“What party?” Kade asked, confused.
“She means Becky’s birthday party,” Nam answered, catching on.
“Oh! Yeah... I don’t get it,” Kade frowned. “Why waste such a special day by not celebrating? I mean, this day will never come again! Freen, tell me—will Becky ever turn 18 again?” Her theatrical disappointment was obvious; Kade always looked for an excuse to party, and today had all the potential—if only Becky had let it.
“You guys aren’t celebrating?” Freen asked, keeping her face blank, voice calm, but her eyes held a flicker of something more.
“Oh, we’re all up for it,” Nam said. “But Becky doesn’t want to celebrate anything. Not even today.”
She threw a subtle kick under the table, nudging Kade to play along knowing it would be best to fuel freen now to do something about it so she can make a move to interact with becky to make everything alright again.
Kade understood and slammed her fist on the table with a loud thud. Everyone flinched—even Nam.
“WHY?! Why would she waste her one life like this? Every day should be a celebration! Ugh, I swear!” she said, wildly gesturing, almost too much.
Nam rolled her eyes at the overacting and decided to handle the scene herself.
“She means... We had everything planned. Talked it out with her group. Irin even got her parents’ permission. But then Becky made it very clear—she wanted to be left alone. So... no party,” Nam said, her voice softening, laced with concern.
Freen didn’t show it, but it stung.
She never celebrated her own birthdays either, but Becky—Becky was different. Becky was sunshine. Everyone’s little princess. She deserved all the joy in the world.
“It’s her choice,” Freen said coldly, trying to sound unaffected. But she knew they were acting. Kade’s drama was obvious. Nam’s subtle emotional pokes, too.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into her...” a voice chimed in from behind. It was Irin, her face heavy with worry as she joined the table. “She’s my best friend. And I can’t even celebrate her birthday? It’s ridiculous.”
Nam rubbed Irin’s arm gently, sneaking a wink—signaling her to play along.
“I know, right? We’re all sad, Irin. It’s okay,” Kade added, now lowering her voice into genuine concern.
And when Irin glanced at who was sitting on the table with them today she took it a step further. “She’s not the same Becky anymore. I mean, life happens, things go wrong, I get it. But this... she’s become lifeless. And I don’t like it. Not at all.”
Nam blinked. Even she was impressed. She thought Irin should probably switch from singing to drama club.
“I got you,” Nam joined in. “We tried to cheer her up. But she... she looks like a ghost of herself. I want our old Becky back. The one whose presence could change the energy of the whole room. Her mischievous eyes. Her glowing smile. Our social butterfly... I don’t even know how to face her anymore.”
Each word jabbed deeper into Freen’s heart, though she sat like she wasn’t listening at all.
Then came Kade, loud and bold as ever.
“Once—JUST ONCE—I find out who or what hurt Becky like this, I swear to God I’ll hunt them down and—”
She started miming a neck-choking motion mid-sentence.
“Calm down! Will you?” Freen said irritably, huffing in disbelief.
Nam knew the moment had come. The iron was hot. Time to strike.
“I don’t know how to even stay hopeful anymore,” she said, tone quiet now. “She locks herself up all day. Barely eats. Lost so much weight... I think she needs therapy.”
Freen choked on her water.
“Aren’t you guys enough to lift her up?” she said, bitterly disappointed. She gestured toward Kade and Irin. “I mean... you all have such different energies. I thought she'd be fine with you. But clearly...” Her words trailed off as the ache in her chest grew louder.
“We’ve tried,” Kade said, voice unusually serious now. “We really have. But even we are starting to lose hope. Today could’ve been our cue to make her feel happy, special—feel seen. But... it’s not happening.”
Irin added, softly, “Forget it.”
And then Nam, delivering the final line with quiet sincerity, said:
“We just need a tiny ounce of life back in her. Just a little... willingness to even try.”
She paused, eyes landing gently on Freen.
“After that, we can take care of the rest. But right now... it’s all up to Becky. And if she wants to keep living like this—dead, while alive—then there’s not much else we can do.”
The day slowly bled into evening, and with each passing hour, the restlessness in Freen's chest swelled like a storm building at sea. The morning’s conversation with the group did nothing to help. If anything, it made things worse—adding to the ache she had tried so hard to quiet.
Freen had always cared about Becky in ways words failed to explain. She couldn’t bear even a flicker of sadness in Becky’s eyes, let alone this — lifelessness. Just the thought of Becky shrinking into someone she wasn’t… someone dimmer than the sunshine she always was… it was too much.
And when Freen could no longer contain the heaviness pressing into her ribs, she did the only thing that ever helped — she drove to her mother’s grave. The familiar road blurred behind her as she sped through the growing dusk, searching for comfort in silence and stillness.
She reached the cemetery as the sun dipped low, the air thick with golden sorrow. Kneeling beside her mother’s resting place, she laid down fresh flowers — white and soft, like fragments of unspoken love. Then she sat down on the cool earth, folding herself beside the grave like a child returning home after too long.
And then she spoke. Not to the wind. Not to the silence. But to her mom — as if her voice could cross the distance between here and heaven.
“Can you believe it, Mom?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t even cry when you left. The shock swallowed everything. I had nothing in me to feel. But Becky… Becky brought it all back. She made me feel again—made me feel hope, love, even vulnerability. Things I’d buried deep.”
Her breath hitched as the first sob escaped her throat.
“She made me feel like home… the way I used to feel with you and Dad.”
Tears began their quiet descent, sliding down her cheeks.
“And I—I was so selfish. I never gave anything back to her. Not even a soft word. Not even once.” She sniffled, wiping her face clumsily with the back of her hand.
“She’s an angel, Mom. It’s like… like you and Dad sent her down just for me.” Her voice trembled, cracking open further. “She never expected anything from me. Never asked. Just… stayed. Clingy, stubborn, loving me through every wall I built—until I pushed too hard. Until I hurt her.”
Now the sobs poured out uncontrollably, shaking her shoulders. Her t-shirt clung damp to her chest from the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“She deserves the world, and I—I drowned her sunshine in my shadow.”
She tried to calm her breathing, wiping her face again, failing miserably. Her voice came out hoarse but determined:
“I thought I was protecting her, Mom. But she’s withering... and it hurts. God, it hurts so much. I don’t even know how to explain this pain.”
Freen leaned her head back, taking in a shaky breath, eyes closed as if to plead with the sky.
“My heart… it longs for her. Feels so much for her. But my mind—it keeps handing me this damn recipe of my fate. And I’m torn, Mom. Torn between what I feel and what I fear.”
She broke down again, burying her face in her hands.
“It’s not easy, Maa…” her voice was a soft cry. “If it weren’t for Grandma, I… I might’ve come to you a long time ago. And none of this would’ve happened. But now…” she paused, voice barely holding. “Now I can’t even think about quitting. Because of Grandma. Because of Becky.”
Her body trembled as she leaned her forehead against the gravestone, hugging it — hugging the earth, as if this piece of land might hold her together when nothing else could.
“I can’t sleep, Mom. Not knowing if Becky’s okay. I thought her being with the others would help, but… it’s not working. She's slipping into something dark, something not her — and it’s my fault.”
She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself, her voice a whisper now, dissolving into the evening air.
“She went from being sunshine… to a lifeless shade. And all of it — all of it — is because of me.”
And with that, silence swept over the graveyard once more.
Only the sound of the wind, the rustle of dry leaves, and a girl grieving — for the love she lost, for the pieces of herself she couldn’t stitch back together, and for the one soul who still held her fragile heart, even from a distance.
On the other side of the day, Becky wore her brightest mask.
She laughed when her parents looked her way, smiled wide when they offered her cotton candy, and even spun around once at the carnival, just to make her mom giggle. From the outside, she looked like every other girl turning eighteen — lit up by the glow of neon rides, surrounded by noise, life, and the sticky sweetness of celebration. But inside… something was fading, slowly and silently.
As the night drew closer, so did the ache in her chest. That tiny flicker of hope — the one that had clung all day to the quiet wish for something from Freen — began to burn out. No call. No message. Not even a trace of a sign, no accidental moment, no indirect whisper of presence. Nothing.
Nothing at all.
The silence from Freen was louder than all the carnival noise around her, and it echoed right into the hollows of her heart. And now, Becky didn’t expect anything anymore. Not today. Not ever.
This — this was her life now.
So, for her mom and dad’s sake, she kept pretending. She held their hands, smiled for photos, laughed at jokes that didn’t land, and watched the fireworks split the night sky with a painted joy. She finished the day exactly how they’d planned — with a family movie night, curled up on the couch between the two people who loved her most… and yet, still felt utterly alone.
When the credits rolled and the soft music of the movie faded, Becky turned to them, pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks, and whispered, “Thank you… for everything today.” Her voice was soft, gentle — too composed to raise suspicion.
Then she quietly retreated to her room.
The door closed with a faint click. And silence wrapped around her once again.
She didn’t switch on the light. The soft blue glow of the moon poured in through the window, stretching across her floor like a quiet witness. Becky glanced at the clock on her nightstand.
11:40 PM.
And just like that, it was over — the one day that only comes once in a lifetime. Her 18th birthday, slipping away into memory, unacknowledged by the one person her heart had waited for all day.
With the weight of everything pressing down on her chest, Becky let herself collapse onto her bed, limbs heavy, breath shallow. She curled into herself, no more pretending, no more smiling. Just her. And the silence. And the loneliness that wrapped around her like a second skin.
A quiet sob threatened her throat, but she didn’t let it out. She just lay there, blinking into the dim ceiling, feeling the ache bloom deeper.
Her birthday was over. And it had never really begun.
As Becky lay in bed, sleep refused to show her mercy.
She tossed from one side to the other, pulling the blanket up to her chin, then kicking it off again.
Her heart ached, her eyes burned, and her chest felt tight as if the sadness hadn’t finished carving its way through her yet.
And just as she tried to force herself into stillness, her ears caught a sudden—
Thud thud.
Two soft knocks broke the silence, followed by a familiar voice muffled behind the door.
“Becky, baby? Are you asleep?” her mom called, gentle yet curious.
Becky’s brows furrowed, the corners of her mouth pulling into an annoyed pout. Her thoughts were too raw to entertain company. "What now?" she muttered under her breath, dragging her limbs off the bed with an exaggerated groan. Her feet hit the floor with a soft stomp, the cold wooden tiles grounding her frustration for just a moment.
She reached the door, twisted the knob sharply, and pulled it open in one swift motion.
Her lips parted, ready to say something snappy — but whatever she expected to see, it wasn’t this.
Becky’s breath hitched.
There, in the dim hallway light, framed by the soft flicker of candle flames, stood the figure her heart had memorized. A delicate glow lit up the rich, hazel-brown of those familiar boba eyes — eyes that always felt like home, even when everything else was falling apart. The faint scent of sandalwood and soft jasmine hit her like a memory wrapped in longing.
Freen.
Expressionless, composed, and painfully quiet — like always. She held a small cheesecake in her hands, dotted with candles flickering like tiny stars. Her posture was still, her gaze steady, yet something in her eyes trembled. Freen didn’t say a word, didn’t smile, didn’t dare move — as if even breathing too loud might ruin whatever fragile thing existed between them now.
And Becky? She stood there frozen, words caught in her throat, body rooted in the floor. All she could do was stare at her — the girl she ached to hold, the one who broke her with silence and distance, and yet still made her heart skip a beat.
Their world paused in that gaze.
Until —
"Happy birthday to you..."
The spell shattered.
Her parents' warm voices filled the space, cheerfully singing as they walked in behind Freen. Her mom held a phone like a mic, her dad hummed off-tune but gleefully, and BonBon — bouncing like a cotton ball of joy — barked and licked Becky’s foot with excitement, his tail wagging as if he’d been waiting for this moment all day.
Freen stepped slightly aside, giving Becky’s parents space.
She hadn’t just shown up.
She had called earlier, gently asking for their permission, wanting to give Becky this one moment — this one tiny wish at the very end of a day that would never come again.
Becky finally blinked, turning her gaze from Freen to her mom and dad.
“I said no cakes, Mum,” she mumbled, her voice low and tired.
But her parents only smiled wider, as if nothing mattered except the light they now saw back in their daughter's eyes — the same stars they hadn't seen in weeks.
Becky let out a breath, stepped aside, and gestured for them to come inside.
“We won’t take much of your time,” her mom said sweetly, and placing the cake on Becky’s desk. “Just close your eyes, make a wish, and blow the candles. Then we’ll head back to our room.”
Becky glanced at Freen for a split second, then looked at the cake.
It couldn’t be real.
None of it.
But then again, she had always told herself — even if it’s a dream, make sure to live it the fullest.
So she closed her eyes.
Behind her lids, everything inside her screamed for peace — not happiness, not even answers… just a moment of stillness. She made her wish, held her breath, and blew out the candles.
Smoke curled into the air as her parents beamed at her.
She gave them a look — part exhausted, part sarcastic — the classic “happy now?” expression she’d worn since childhood.
They laughed.
Her mom tapped her head affectionately. Her dad kissed her temple. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Then they turned to Freen.
“Thank you for such a sweet gesture, Freen,” Becky’s mom said warmly. “We missed you so much. You know you’re always welcome here.”
Her dad added, “You should stay the night. It’s too late to be out.”
“Oh—thank you, Mr & Mrs Armstrong,” Freen replied softly, bowing her head in gratitude. “But I won’t stay long. I’ll be on my way soon.”
While Freen politely responded, Becky slipped away — quietly turning to face the window. Her back to the room. Her fingers loosely gripping the edge of the curtain.
Sulking? Maybe. Pretending? Definitely.
What else could she do? How could she react when the one person she wanted the most just walked back into her life like a whisper?
She had no idea what to do with the weight in her chest.
Moments later, her parents gently took BonBon with them and left the room, giving the girls space. The door clicked shut behind them.
And when silence fell again, it was just the two of them.
Freen finally turned… to her.
And before the silence could make everything awkward, Becky spoke—without turning to face Freen.
"Remember me?"
Their old way of starting a conversation. A question in exchange for a question.
"Do you remember yourself?" Freen threw one back, her voice calm but piercing.
Becky frowned, confused by the response.
Freen took a slow breath and followed up in a cold, authoritative tone, laced with worry.
"What's with locking yourself up in your room? Not wanting to go out, not even wanting to celebrate your birthday?"
"Huh. Says the one who didn’t even wish me yet," Becky snapped, still refusing to meet Freen’s eyes—afraid that if she did, she might break.
Freen glanced at the wall clock. It was exactly 11:59.
"Every day should be your day," she said softly. "But anyway... happy birthday."
The words were hesitant, smooth, laced with something unspoken—but wrapped in her usual distant tone.
"Not that you really care, but thank you anyway," Becky muttered, knowing full well how much Freen did care—but also not knowing how else to talk to her. This was their way. Becky, sulky and indirect. Freen, guarded and commanding.
"Oh-kay then, I’ll head out?" Freen tested, watching her reaction.
"My present?" Becky asked.
Neither of them knew what it was between them exactly—but nothing ever needed to be defined. Their bond didn’t demand nurturing. Their presence in each other’s lives was enough. They didn’t need clarification or justification. They just... were. One soul. Freen had the unspoken right to protect. Becky, the silent gift of always making Freen feel like home.
When Becky said "My present?" the way Becky rightfully demanded it, It meant more than a gift. It meant I see you. It meant I understand all this distancing, all this pain, It meant I know. It meant I still care.
Freen swallowed. "I’m not good with presents and all. What do you want?"
"Forget it. You can’t afford it."
Becky finally turned to face her. Locked eyes for a second. Then walked back to the bed and sat down.
Freen stepped forward, arms crossed.
"No, tell me. Even I want to know what it is that Freen Sarocha can’t afford. I can buy you anything. Concert tickets for Ed Sheeran. A world tour. A—"
"You."
That one word stopped Freen mid-sentence.
She froze.
Their eyes locked. The world around them silenced. Becky—so straightforward, so painfully honest. Freen—caught completely off guard.
And before either of them could go vulnerable, Freen averted her gaze. She glanced at her wristwatch and said quietly, “I should go.”
With that, she made her way to the door.
But just as her hand reached for the doorknob—she froze.
A familiar warmth wrapped around her from behind.
Becky.
Back-hugging her. Tight.
Freen didn’t move. Couldn’t. She stood still, eyes wide, heart thudding—but inside, she was melting.
Neither of them said a word.
Freen could feel Becky’s heartbeat pressed gently against her back. Becky, finally inhaling Freen’s scent again—finally sharing her warmth.
They were home. In that exact moment, without words.
Time paused. Fifteen minutes passed in stillness, yet it felt like mere seconds.
Then Becky whispered, “Thank you, P’Freen… for everything.”
Freen couldn’t believe it. After everything she had put Becky through—after turning her world to ashes—Becky was still this kind, still this thankful.
Unbelievable.
A single tear slipped down Freen’s cheek. She bit back the sob clawing at her throat.
Gently, without a word, she unlaced Becky’s fingers from around her. Then she turned back to face her—eyes locking, breathing still.
“Live a little, can you?” Freen whispered. It was a silent plea, layered with worry, soft but firm.
Then she gently tapped Becky’s head with her hand.
“Proud of you.” The word escaped Freen's mouth without her own consent.
And with that, she quickly turned around and stormed out, not trusting herself to stay a second longer.
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
The words echoed in Becky’s room—echoed in her heart.
That was it. The best gift she could ever have. The one she would never forget.
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of you.”
She smiled.
A real one.
The kind that stretched from ear to ear.
The peaceful kind.
The kind that said everything was going to be okay.
And just like that, her 18th birthday turned out to be special.
She lay back on her bed, pinching herself. Was it all a dream?
She refused to fall asleep—terrified she might wake up and find it never happened.
Meanwhile, Freen sat alone in her car.
Replay after replay of Becky’s hug ran through her head.
That warmth… the kind she never wanted to let go of.
The stars in Becky’s eyes that had finally returned—but Freen carried a weight in her chest.
A disappointment in herself…
For not giving Becky what she truly wanted.
And she clearly didn’t want to think about the dare she’d just taken—
Going against the very fate she’d promised herself she wouldn't fight.
But she did.
Just to show Becky she was still there.
Not beside her, maybe.
But always there.
In silence. In the distance but there.
Maybe to remind her that she should live like she always did before, happy & cheerful.
With a long, heavy sigh, she gripped the steering wheel and drove off.
Leaving behind a part of herself in that room. And carrying the rest of her in silence.
The day wrapped up in silence. But this time…
It was a peaceful one.