FREEN'S POV
FLASHBACK
"So… you're saying they were murdered by someone who knows our family well?"I could barely breathe. My chest tightened, but I had to pull myself together. My fist clenched as I listened to the voice on the other end of the line.
"The way your family members were taken out—one by one—it wasn't the work of just anyone. Seng Wichai Saefent? I believe he was just another pawn. This isn't some low-level revenge plot, Ma'am. It's personal. Deeply personal. A long-standing grudge."Mr. Maurer's words sliced through the silence like a knife.
So I was right all along. My parents' deaths were no accident. They were sabotaged. The company, the mysterious deaths of my other relatives—it was all planned.
"You're telling me there's a high chance I can reopen the investigation into my parents' deaths with the evidence you've gathered?" I asked, needing confirmation.
"Yes. But I have a strong feeling that whoever's behind this won't let you do it easily. If you allow me to continue, I can dig deeper. Maybe even identify the real mastermind," he offered.
It was a tempting proposition. But I couldn't risk tipping off the enemy and ruining everything I'd built to catch them.
"Lay low for now. I'm afraid they might start suspecting you as my spy, Mr. Maurer."He simply replied, "Mhm."
"I'll send your allowance and payment. Thank you, Mr. Maurer."I ended the call.
Moments later, a buzz. An email. Mr. M. The subject line made my heart pound—evidence files. The truth about my family.
"Ma'am? They're all waiting on set. Ma'am Pimmy is calling you," Ya, my assistant, said, snapping me back to reality.
"Right. Tell Pimmy I'm coming," I nodded, and she quickly walked off.
I took off my robe and stood up, catching my reflection in the mirror.
Why didn't they just ask us to go naked? A spaghetti strap sando and dolphin shorts? Really?Is Becky wearing this too?
I shook my head, dismissing the thought, and stepped out.
As I exited the room, I switched. Bitch face off—smile on. Time to be the beloved actress again.
My jaw ached from all the smiling. Hug here. Pose there. Laugh with people I barely knew. But I wasn't being fake—I loved my job, loved my fans.
Still, this wasn't me.
But this is what I do:Act like I'm okay, even when I'm exhausted.Smile even when I want to cry.Pretend to be vibrant when I'm hollow inside.Act alive… even when I feel dead.
And I'm good at it.No one sees the cracks.I am perfect. I have to be.
When the staff finally stopped treating me like a doll, I walked down the hallway, and nerves slammed into me like a train.
Becky.I was going to see Becky again.
I've missed her so much. But these past few days, I had to fix the mess I left behind in Korea. Meetings with producers, damage control with investors, even my lawyer. On top of that, avoiding Blew.
God, Blew.
He used to be my best friend. Then boyfriend. But when Becky came into my life, everything shifted. He became jealous, insecure.
He thought Becky was using me for clout. Thought she was seducing me.Ridiculous.
Becky was like the sister I never had. I adored her. Protected her.
She changed my world. Everything became meaningful. Just seeing her made every day brighter. Even after our series ended, I couldn't stop seeing her.
I'd sneak visits to her house just to spend time with her. Her dad was lovely too.
She wasn't too active in the industry—she focused on school. I admired that about her.
She had direction. Grace. Drive. Being with her felt like flying. With her, I felt light. I felt peace. I felt… home.
And then she vanished.
No warning. No message.Nothing.
I flew back to Bangkok just to find her—but her house was empty.
I was devastated. Angry. Abandoned.
I tried calling. She'd changed her number. I even called her dad—but no response.
Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I pulled away to protect her—from Blew, from judgmental people, from my grandfather who thought she would ruin my career.
"Shit."I froze.
There she was—Becky.
Across the room, unaware I was watching. Her hair, now short and dyed, framed her face perfectly. She wasn't a kid anymore.
She was stunning.
She wore the same outfit I did, only in a different color. God, it looked better on her. Cute and sexy, effortlessly.
Her eyes scanned the room, brows creased—her classic "I'm uncomfortable" expression.
I needed water. My throat was dry. My legs felt like jelly. I haven't been this nervous in years.
I'm confident. Always have been. But she… she dismantled me without even trying.
Pimmy spotted me and smirked, handing me a water bottle.
"Relax, Freen. You look like you're seeing your crush for the first time," she teased with a whisper. "You got this."
I shot her a glare. She just laughed and walked away.
Twisting the cap off, I noticed a note stuck to the bottle:"Drink this to calm yourself down."I looked for Pimmy, but—
A man approached Becky.
Too close.Too flirty.Eyes undressing her.
My feet moved on their own.
The guy reached out, about to touch her hand.
I cleared my throat.
He flinched, looked at me, and backed off instantly under my glare.
Good. Back off.
I turned to Becky. She looked down.
Shy?
So I wasn't the only one feeling this.
Then I noticed her gaze trailing down—was she checking me out?
She licked her lips.
What. The. Hell.
I crossed one leg over the other, trying to compose myself.
"E-ehem."Still staring.
"E-ehem."Still doing it.
I shoved the bottle in her face to block her view—and my blush—and walked away.
She's going to kill me.
FAST FORWARD AFTER THE PHOTOSHOOT
I slammed the dressing room door behind me and locked it.
I started pacing.
"What the heck did I just do?!"
"Oh my god. Did I just… kiss her neck?!"
"Freen, what were you thinking?!"
"How am I supposed to face her now?!"
"…What if she thinks I'm some kind of creep now?! Aghhh!"I buried my face into my palms and slid down the door until I was sitting on the cold floor, my heart racing like I just finished filming an action scene.
What is wrong with me?! I'm usually so composed, so in control. That's my brand! The ever-poised, ever-collected Freen. And now? I'm out here losing my mind over Becky like a teenager seeing their crush up close for the first time.
''Why did I do that?''
''Shit, now I am going crazy talking to myself here!!
''Urgh!!''
She looked so… different. And yet, the same. That same innocent gaze, curious and shy, but now with this aura around her—so mature, so magnetic. And when she looked at me… God. My chest felt like it was about to explode.
I can't tell if I'm more afraid that she'll hate me… or that she won't look at me like that again.
A knock on the door jolted me from my mental breakdown."Freen? You okay in there? You've been inside for a while." Ya's voice was calm, but I could tell she was concerned.
I took a deep breath, stood up, adjusted my hair in the mirror like nothing happened, and opened the door with the most confident smile I could muster.
"Just fixing my makeup," I lied. She narrowed her eyes but didn't press.
We walked back to the set together, my mind still a mess of emotions. I'm supposed to be a professional. I've worked with dozens of co-stars—some of them heartbreakingly attractive—and I've never reacted like this.
But Becky…
Becky was different.
She always has been.
Now, I have to act beside her. Work with her. Look at her. Every. Day. Pretend we're okay. Pretend nothing happened.
Pretend I didn't once love her more than anyone else in the world.
Pretend I'm not still in love with her.
A knock brought me back to reality, and I stopped pulling my hair, quickly fixing myself.
"Who's there? I'm changing," I called out, hoping to stop the knocking.
"It's Ya. Are you okay, ma'am? We heard you screaming out here, and we were wondering if you're alright."
That made me feel even more embarrassed. I wished I could just disappear right then.
"Don't mind me, I'm just rehearsing," I replied, trying to brush it off and ease their concern.
When I got to the set to look at the photos they took of us, Becky was still not there. I received a call from Becky's dad. I noticed Becky had already gotten out of her room, dressed in her casual clothes.
She looked gorgeous, even in casual clothes. It wasn't fair. My phone buzzed, reminding me of Becky's dad's call. I had forgotten about it, so I quickly texted him:
"Uncle, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to answer your call. I was distracted."
"It's okay. I was just about to ask you a favor, but I think you're busy, so don't worry about it," he replied.
"No, Uncle, it's fine. What is it?" I responded, genuinely concerned. We had bumped into each other just before the meeting, when I was on the phone with my lawyer, and he was about to meet Becky. We shared a hug that day, and I missed him so much I ended up crying in his arms. He'd explained that he had to distance himself from me because he loved his daughter too much. I understood, but I always cherished his support.
I was shocked when I read his next message:
"Can you please take Becky somewhere other than home? That Nop guy is here again. I know Becky wouldn't feel comfortable, but I can't ask them to leave; it's rude, and her mom is enjoying his parents' company right now."
How was I going to bring this up to Becky? She might get mad at her dad for contacting me.
I was about to respond when I saw Becky resting her hand on Pimmy's shoulder, brushing a strand of hair away from her face so it wouldn't fall on her. Then Becky leaned in to look at the monitor, checking the photos.
For some reason, I couldn't stop myself. I reached over, gently removed Becky's hand from Pimmy's shoulder, and moved between them.
They both looked at me, confused by my sudden action, but I quickly apologized, realizing how awkward it must have seemed. Why do I keep embarrassing myself like this?
Becky just stared at me before moving to the other side of the room, and I watched as she and Pimmy continued their work. The look Becky gave me... It stung. Was that how she saw me now? Did she hate me? She couldn't even stand being near me.
Meanwhile, Pimmy pinched Becky's cheeks, clearly doing it on purpose, becoming all too touchy-feely with her. I was upset seeing Becky so comfortable with her, while she seemed so distant with me. I missed the days when I was the one who had her attention. She had changed so much. She wasn't the shy, innocent girl I met six years ago.
Back then, she was just 15, and I was 19. I didn't know how to approach her—she was a foreigner, and my English wasn't very good. But she had no one to talk to and sat in the corner while the rest of us enjoyed ourselves during a workshop.
She was 17 when she left me, and for all the time we spent together, I had gotten used to her always being there when I came back. She became my home. But maybe it wasn't the same for her.
I couldn't take it anymore. I texted Saint, asking him to call me, then turned the volume up to max.
RiiiiingRiiiiingRiiiing
Oops.
That was awkward. I wanted to hide in embarrassment, but Saint didn't stop calling, so I had no choice but to pick up. Becky and Pimmy glanced at me, which, for some reason, worked out because it stopped them from flirting. It was getting irritating.
I handed my phone to Becky, who looked at me with confusion. I glared at her, and she took the phone from me and walked toward the door after excusing herself to Pimmy.
Ya handed me Becky's things, as I'd asked, and I followed Becky out of the studio. I could see that she was about to discover how crazy I was, so I quickly grabbed the phone from her grip.
"What's your problem?" she asked, sounding angry.
It hurt that she treated me this way, but I tried to smile, hoping to defuse the tension. Instead, she glared at me.
"What? I didn't tell you to answer it," I said, trying to play it off as a joke, hoping she'd laugh like she used to when I played pranks on her. But instead, I saw something that hurt more than anything—disappointment in her eyes.
Damn, it hurt.
She shook her head and walked past me.
"No, don't go back there. You're coming with me," I said, stopping her in her tracks.
"Why? Says who?" she snapped, her anger directed at me.
Please, don't do this to me, Becky. I was on the verge of tears, but I knew I had no right to cry.
"Because I said so," I said, trying to sound stern, showing her I was serious.
"And why would I go with you?" she shot back, clearly annoyed.
I wouldn't give up. I had to find a reason to get her to come with me.
"Because we still need to study and memorize our script to understand our characters better," I said, trying to be honest.
"I thought you were too good for all this. Why do you even have to rehearse? You didn't need to attend that stupid workshop to prove your worth as a superstar." Her words cut deep.
I didn't care if the world hated me, but hearing that from her... it shattered me.
"Is that how you see me?" I asked, my voice breaking. I couldn't take it anymore. If she didn't want anything to do with me, then fine.
I turned my back to her and walked toward the elevator, struggling to breathe, still absorbing the weight of what she'd just said.
When the elevator doors closed, I pushed the button to hold it, needing a moment to fix myself before stepping out of this building. I knew the paparazzi were waiting outside.
I wiped my wet eyes, fixed my hair, and checked my reflection on my phone. Thankfully, I was wearing waterproof mascara.
I smiled at my reflection, put my phone back in my handbag, and stood tall, ready to face whatever was waiting for me outside.
But just as the doors opened, I saw Becky running toward me. Our eyes locked, and I saw regret in hers. All the disappointment I'd been feeling vanished, like a bubble popping in the air.
But then I saw a familiar face behind her. I was about to rush to her, but the media began to rush toward me, along with my loveteam's fan club.
What the heck was happening?
Then I noticed a man in a black suit holding a bouquet of flowers, walking toward me with a smile.
Before I could react, he abruptly kissed my forehead and put his arm around me. I smiled, playing along to keep up the act as the crowd went wild.
But my smile dropped when I saw Kirk catching Becky as she nearly collapsed, her eyes locked on me.
Becky.
I did it again. I hurt her again.
No, Becky, don't go.
I saw how she yanked herself out of Kirk's hold and ran toward the elevator.
No, no, no.
I ran after her, but just as I reached the elevator, I saw the doors closing. I was too late.
Blew grabbed my arm, his hand tight but gentle.
I looked back at him, and he stared at me with pleading eyes.
I turned back toward the elevator. It was too late. It was all too late.
I pulled my arm from his grip and noticed the flashing cameras surrounding us.
Great. What now?
Blew continued to stare at me, his eyes begging me to stay.
Was it worth it?
No. I couldn't lose her again.
There were still things I needed to clarify—the novel, the writer, my vivid dreams.
But my parents' case—what should I do now?
"I have an announcement to make," I said, my voice carrying over the crowd's noise.
I knew I'd go through hell after this, but I had to do it.
I exposed all of Blew's lies and betrayals over the past five and a half years—our love team, his fake engagement, the sponsors, everything. I didn't give anyone a chance to ask questions before I walked away.
Now, I was in my car, escaping the eyes of the media, determined to find Becky. I promised her father I'd take care of her, and I wouldn't let that Nop guy bring her home.