Chapter 31
Freen reached the dorm, but she didn’t go straight to her room.
There was something she had to deal with first.
She stormed into Nam and Kade’s room without knocking, the door slamming open like thunder. Nam and Kade froze mid-conversation, startled by Freen’s furious presence. They had seen her angry before—but this? This was something else.
They gulped.
And braced themselves, then, carefully, they began.
“We need to arrange a media statement to clear out this mess,” Kade said carefully.
“Why?” Freen spat, eyes narrowing like a blade ready to strike.
“She means…” Nam began hesitantly, “we know Becky and Jeff are innocent. But these rumors are damaging not just their image—it’s affecting the university’s reputation too.”
“HOW SO?” Freen shot back, stepping further into the room like a storm gaining speed.
Nam took a deep breath. “Becky’s just turned eighteen. She’s just starting her career, Freen. One scandal this early—people might hesitate to work with her. Even if she has CP work with Jeff for now, other projects may start backing off because of this.”
Freen scoffed, pulling out a cigarette. Her hands were shaking slightly, but her face was carved in stone.
“This is college, not kindergarten,” she muttered as she lit the cigarette, smoke curling upward like the storm in her chest.
Kade sighed. “No, Freen. We have to make it clear. We need to involve the media to protect Becky’s image—and the university’s. That would help. It’s just as simple as it is.”
Freen took a long drag, exhaled slowly, and then spoke—loud, clear, every word a punch:
“A. They haven’t done anything wrong.
B. Even if they—” she paused, her voice tightening, “even if they did—they’re adults. It’s not a crime and above that It’s not at all shameful.
C. If we release a statement, it means we’re accepting & supporting that being lovey dovey is somehow a crime or a sin?. That kissing someone or being close to someone is scandalous? That’s not what our university stands for. We don’t support outdated stereotypes.”
She looked straight at both of them now, her voice rising in conviction.
“This is college. Couples make out literally everywhere, behind buildings, in stairwells, in every corner we pretend not to know about. And yeah, sure, sometimes it disrupts the decorum—but we don’t crucify or judge people for it.”
Her speech rang out loud and clear. The fire in her voice left Nam and Kade stunned.
After a moment, Kade hesitantly mustered the courage to speak. “But…”
“NO.”
Freen cut her off, fire in her eyes.
“We are not going to let a spineless stalker with a camera set the damn narrative for us. It’s their job to stir up fake drama for likes, clicks, and some cheap cash. But it’s not our job to feed that fire. We don’t owe them a single second of our peace.”
Nam stepped forward, trying to soften her voice. “But… Becky—”
“NO.” Freen growled, eyes sharp as blades. “MY Bec doesn’t owe an explanation to anyone.”
With that final declaration, she stormed out, leaving silence and smoke behind.
A beat of stunned silence.
Kade blinked, then sighed, shaking her head. “Well… someone should tell that to the superior authorities. We’re just students here.”
Nam’s eyes widened as if lightning had struck. She walked up to Kade, grabbed her by the arms, and shook her.
“She said… MY Bec.”
Kade gasped, both hands flying to cover her mouth dramatically.
“Ohhhkay. We can handle any mess But the storm that’s about to crash?”
She looked at Nam, eyes wide.
“We’re not ready for that.”
At this moment they both just hope for the best.
______________________________________________________________________
On the other side of the dorm, Becky sat restless—her thoughts circling like a storm with no eye in sight.
What would P’Freen think of her? Would she believe her? Or worse—would she not care at all?
Every possible thought twisted itself into a knot inside her head, anxiety pulsing like a second heartbeat. And then—just like that—Freen walked in.
Becky immediately looked up, locking eyes with her. Freen didn’t look away. Her gaze held steady, searching Becky’s expression, almost as if trying to see through the mess—trying to find out if Becky was okay beneath it all.
Someone had to press play on this paused moment between them.
“P’Freen… have you seen it yet?” Becky’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Vulnerable.
Freen gave a noncommittal “Umm.” She bent down, calmly removing her shoes like nothing was wrong, and stepped inside.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Becky added quickly, as if she couldn’t hold the words back any longer.
To her surprise, Freen replied—politely, but with an edge of indifference,
“Did I even ask you to explain?”
As if none of it bothered her.
She walked over to the closet, started rummaging for her PJs like it was any other night.
“So… you don’t want to know?” Becky asked, hurt flickering behind her words.
Freen finally turned around, let out a tired sigh, and said, “What is wrong with everyone? Why is everyone acting so childish? And how many people do I have to explain things to today?”
The exhaustion in her voice didn’t sound like anger anymore. It sounded worn out. Spent.
She walked over, gently took Becky by the shoulders, and guided her to sit on the couch.
“Whatever is or isn’t… what’s the big deal?” Freen shrugged. “You’re an adult. He’s an adult.”
But before she could finish, Becky cut in, “No—no, it’s not about that, P’…”
Freen hushed her softly, her tone more grounded now.
“I’m not saying that it was what it looked like. I’m just trying to make a point here, Bec—why do you even need to explain?”
Becky blinked, confused.
Freen sat down beside her and leaned in a little closer.
“You hear me nice and clear.” Her voice was firm now, steady, protective. “Don’t treat it like it’s something shameful. Whether it happened or not—it’s not a crime. Unless there’s someone special in your life, someone you want to be clear with—because yeah, that might stir trouble in an actual relationship.” She paused, then added with a softer tone, “The rest? Don’t bother. Okay?”
There it was.
She said it all—and somewhere in between, even let slip what her heart had been trying to say all along. The indirect confession hidden in her words. Someone special. Someone she was trying to protect without confessing.
Freen continued, her voice calm but firm, “And don’t worry about your career or anything else. Your talent speaks louder than any of this noise.”
Then, with a subtle smirk, she added, “And don’t you ever forget—you literally have this royal ice queen by your side. If no one supports you, I swear, I’ll sell the entire country just to sponsor your dream.”
The dramatic exaggeration, laced with quiet affection, made Becky chuckle.
And in that small, beautiful laugh, she realized—she was falling in love with Freen all over again. Harder. Deeper.
Freen casually turned to head toward the restroom, leaving Becky staring at her retreating back with a heart that was no longer heavy—just full.
Freen’s fury from earlier—her stormy defense with Kade and Nam—had melted the moment she saw Becky’s eyes.
It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t her inner storm. It was something else now.
Protectiveness.
She couldn’t bear the thought of Becky being troubled. It gnawed at her, and wouldn't let her sleep.
So she did what she could.
She fought. She stood tall. And now, she wrapped Becky in a space where she felt safe—where she didn’t owe anyone anything.
Because love like Freen’s? It didn’t beg to be known.
It burned quietly, protectively.
A kind of love that would happily fall apart as long as the one she loved felt whole.
Consuming—yes.
But beautifully satisfying.
Because all that mattered to Freen…
was Becky. Not even the aching questions clawing at her heart could change that.
And Becky—Becky’s eyes were full of pride, just having Freen by her side.
She had spent the entire day talking to people, explaining herself again and again. Even to her parents. Every conversation felt like a silent trial. But with Freen… she didn’t have to say a word. Because Freen was always many steps ahead.
No one else gave Becky the quiet kind of comfort she had been aching to hear. But Freen—Freen said it all, without exposing her own vulnerable side, without ever letting her cold, composed demeanor slip.
And in that moment, Becky felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude.
How could she not fall in love with her… again and again?
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even though the media and fans had been on fire with wild speculations, the silence from Becky, Jeff, and the college itself only deepened the doubt of news being false for those who genuinely cared. But with no real confirmation and no reaction, the rumor gradually began to lose its steam—not immediately, but slowly and steadily.
And anyway, they had a lineup of upcoming magazine interviews where the topic was bound to come up. Both Jeff and Becky were prepared. They didn’t intend to entertain the drama or give the question any weight—but they were clear in their stance.
What people saw… was not what it was.
And if anything of the sort had happened, they were reminded that they had every right to take legal action against stalkers and media outlets who misled the public with false narratives.
They weren’t just dismissing it—they were drawing a line.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few days later, the university held its grand annual function. The whole campus was dressed in celebration—from early morning ceremonies to a lively late-night closing party. Artists, performers, and VIP guests filled the day with charm and color.
And of course, Freen’s grandma had to be the most clingy person in the entire event, hovering around her one and only Oranatara every chance she got. Freen, naturally, couldn’t help but scoff every time.
Freen was busy running around, ensuring everything went smoothly. But as expected, Grandma finally cornered her.
“Ah-ha! Got you. Don’t even try running away again,” Grandma said triumphantly, grabbing Freen’s wrist.
Freen sighed, already irritated. “Grandmaaaa... what is it now?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you what it is, sweetheart. Let me grab my phone.” Grandma said dramatically, fishing out her phone and zooming into her screen with exaggerated flair.
“Look here. Twenty-three media channels, forty-six reporters, and a hundred and eighty-nine toxic fan pages—banned. Care to explain?” she said, lifting an eyebrow.
Freen folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “I’m handling it. They’re banned temporarily. Oh, how I wish I could just step on them like bugs.”
Grandma chuckled. “You do a lot of things in your anger, but this... this queenly attitude, this ruthless flair—Definitely my blood, I'm so proud of you.”
She squished Freen’s cheeks, making Freen recoil in disgust.
“Ugh—stop it.”
Grandma leaned in with a teasing glint in her eye. “And don’t tell me all this chaos was because of our little BecBec?”
Freen looked away quickly. “It’s not her. It’s about protecting the reputation of our university.”
“Sure, darling.” Grandma said but cut short by freen
“And maybe you should behave a little too, Grandma. Stop clinging to Miss Oranatara like she’s your childhood crush,” Freen said, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her embarrassment.
She turned on her heel and stomped off.
Grandma stood still, smiling fondly, watching her granddaughter’s retreating figure.
“Definitely her little BecBec,” she whispered to herself, amused.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Becky and Jeff performed their songs—both solo and as a duet—and their chemistry was undeniable. While they were just enjoying music to its purest form; it’s joy, rhythm, and unspoken ease. Every note, every glance, every shared laugh between them painted a picture of something warm and effortless.
Freen watched it all from afar.
The way Jeff led Becky with gentle assurance, the way his gaze never left hers. The way he subtly adjusted her mic, offered his jacket when she shivered, the way Becky smiled back—playful, at ease, glowing. The way she giggled when Jeff teased her mid-song. The way the crowd erupted, chanting their names, flooding the hashtags with couple emojis and shipping slogans.
It all cut through Freen like a sharp, merciless knife.
And this time, she didn’t run from it.
She let herself feel it—let it dig deep into the hollow parts of her chest. Maybe this kind of pain would numb the ache of not having Becky. Of watching her slip away, not because of a lack of love, but because fate had its own cruel rules.
So she stood there and watched. And exaggerated it all further in her head—imagining every possibility where Jeff and Becky were real, and she… was just the girl in the shadows.
After all, Jeff was everything—talented, charming, admired, safe. He was the kind of guy any girl would fall for. And Becky? Becky deserved the best. Deserved easy. Deserved everything.
And Freen?
She could only self-destruct quietly.
She hated it. Hated that she couldn’t hold Becky’s hand when she wanted to. Couldn’t lean into her neck, couldn’t whisper late-night nothings, couldn’t trace the lines of her tired face after a long day. And oh, she wanted to. So badly. Some nights, she would just lie there, watching Becky sleep, and convince herself that this—this distant worship—was enough.
But it wasn’t. Not when she couldn’t have her. Not really.
So she drank. The finest wine, as if it could wash down the ache.
She stumbled back to her room with a heart full of hurt and a mind full of delusions—imagining Becky in Jeff’s arms, imagining a life where she wasn’t even a page in Becky’s book.
And then she stood in the balcony, cigarette between trembling fingers, puffing out smoke like curses to the sky.
Cursing fate.
Becky stepped into the room. It was quiet—too quiet.
That kind of silence that wraps around your chest like a warning.
The calm before a storm.
Her eyes scanned the room, searching.
And then she saw her—Freen, standing out on the balcony, her frame dimly lit by the soft glow of the moon. She was puffing a cigarette in complete silence, head slightly bowed, shoulders heavy with something Becky couldn’t see, but could feel.
A sharp ache bloomed in Becky’s chest.
Freen looked so alone.
So quietly broken.
"How come I haven’t done anything for her lately?" Becky thought, guilt tugging at her. "So stupid of me… getting swept up in all this career buzz, always rushing from one thing to another."
She bit her lip, a wave of regret crashing in.
"How selfish of me. I’m sorry, babe… I’m coming. I can’t see you like this anymore."
She walked to the balcony, soft steps full of purpose.
And the moment Freen heard her, even in her dizzy state, she instinctively flicked her cigarette away—her small, protective reflex kicking in. Even while she was hurting, even with wine humming through her veins, she cared that much.
Becky’s heart swelled and shattered at the same time.
She stepped closer, slowly, until she was standing right beside her. Neither of them said anything at first. Just the sound of night. Just the sound of hearts wanting to speak but not knowing how.
"You’re drunk," Becky said quietly, her eyes fixed on the view rather than the woman swaying beside her.
"I know," Freen muttered, her voice laced with amusement—almost as if she was proud of it.
Becky didn't let it go. "Why so?"
Freen let out a soft, ironic chuckle. “Well... something else started intoxicating me way too much. I thought I’d remind it of its place.”
She smirked at her own cryptic sarcasm, but Becky didn’t find it funny. Her brows knitted in worry as she reached for Freen’s hand, interlocking her fingers with a warmth that tried to anchor her.
"Is this... about the whole fate thing?" Becky asked, gently, searching her face for answers.
Freen sighed deeply, thinking there is no point in talking it out. With a quiet tug, she slipped her hand out of Becky’s.
“Let’s just go inside. It’s getting cold out here.”
But before they moved, Freen looked at Becky—really looked. Her gaze dropped to the bare skin revealed by Becky’s sleeveless dress.
Freen's tongue loosened under the haze of alcohol and unresolved feelings. “Oh? Didn't you bring your boyfriend’s jacket home?” she sneered, the bitterness creeping up like bile.
Becky blinked. “What are you saying, P’Freen?”
“Oh, come on,” Freen snapped, her tone sharp, her sarcasm a dagger she couldn’t sheath. “Jeff gave you his jacket, right? To keep you warm? And wasn’t it him who handed you that napkin when you spilled water on yourself? And didn’t he pull out a chair for you like a proper little gentleman?”
Each sentence was more venomous than the last, and Becky heard it all, slowly understanding it all—the insecurity behind freen’s jabs, the hurt straining to be masked.
“P’Freen… it’s not what you think,” Becky began to explain, but Freen wasn’t finished.
“No, no—just think about it, Bec. You and Jeff—you two look so good together. Everyone sees it. You’re happy around him. Oh, and the way you smile when you’re with me? Wow.” She threw her hands up in an exaggerated performance, her voice cracking as it tried to carry her pain without breaking.
But Becky wasn’t angry—she was heartbroken. She could feel Freen’s insecurities flooding out, the silent burn she must’ve been carrying. Still holding freen’s hand, Becky used both of hers this time—firm, grounding.
“He’s like a brother to me, P’Freen. We don’t care what the world thinks,” Becky said softly. “He treats me like a little sister.”
“Oh, just like I treat you like a little sister, right?” Freen scoffed, her smile tinged with something sour. There was something in freen’s eyes that made becky vulnerable in the weight of freen’s emotion.
Then without a second thought Becky’s hugged Freen, arms wrapped around her without hesitation. Tight. Fierce. Unshakable. Becky softly said “No one treats me like you do, P’Freen. No one could ever care about me the way you do. You’re my comfort zone, my safe space. You believe whatever you want to believe—but Jeff? He has a girlfriend. And even she treats me like a little sister.”
Freen stilled in her arms. Becky pulled back gently, just enough to find her eyes again.
“Jeff and I—yes, we both love music to the core. That’s why we connect. We respect the same art. But there’s nothing else there.”
Her voice softened, her next words dipping into that space where vulnerability and truth met like trembling lips.
“And it was you who labeled us sisters, remember? Because of this ‘fate’ thing... But if it were ever up to me—”
Becky paused, her breath visible in the cold, their closeness fogging the glass of unspoken things.
“If it were ever up to me… I’d be loving you in ways this world has never known before.”
There. It was said. Becky said it all, Every word, bare and unafraid.
There was no flicker of doubt in Becky’s eyes. No fear. No expectation. Only a love that had finally found its voice.
Freen blinked, her entire storm of emotions spinning on its heel. She’d felt this love in Becky’s gestures, in stolen glances, in every soft silence from the very beginning—but hearing it, spoken aloud, made her chest tighten until her breath stuttered.
Becky, sensing the weight of what she’d just confessed, and knowing that Freen could push her away anytime now she tried to backup her whole confession, voice trembling…
“But it’s alright. I don’t expe—”
She didn’t get to finish.
Because just then, the world went still. Like a thread had snapped.
And somewhere, maybe just in Becky’s head, or maybe in the very air, she heard it—soft and distant, yet utterly clear:
🎵Got the music in you, baby, tell me why...
You've been locked in here forever
And you just can't say goodbye... 🎵
Freen’s lips, crashing into hers—not out of desperation, or insecurity, or even drunk intoxication but out of finally giving in.
The music didn’t need to be playing. It was already inside her—between both of them.
🎵Your lips, my lips... apocalypse.
Your lips, my lips... apocalypse.🎵
There were no more words needed.
And the most beautiful part?
It was Freen who made the move.
🎵Got the music in you, baby, tell me why
Got the music in you, baby, tell me why
You've been locked in here forever, and you just can't say goodbye
You've been locked in here forever, and you just can't say goodbye
Ooh-oh
When you're all alone
I will reach for you
When you're feeling low
I will be there too
Your lips, my lips
Apocalypse
Your lips, my lips
Apocalypse🎵
And Becky being Becky, In her hazy, blushing mind, all she could think was—
“Damn it. This was supposed to be a BackFreen moment.”