"This can't be," I heard Becky blurt out. She froze as she got out of the car. I peeked through the window and saw the fear in her eyes. She looked like a ghost had appeared in front of her.
I quickly stepped out and rushed to her side. She seemed shaken, holding her head in her hands as if trying to make sense of where we were.
"What's wrong?" I asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I-I need to—" she started, but cut herself off. Her eyes flickered with hesitation. She is, like, anxious about something.
Honestly, I am starting to get worried. I couldn't read her. Earlier, she was just crying in my arms from a bad dream, and now she is acting weird, seeing the beach outside. I really thought this place would still make her happy like before.
I guess a lot has changed ever since she moved away.
"What is it?" I pressed, my heart racing. I need to know what's in her mind.
"Nothing. It's none of your business."
Her words struck me like a slap. None of my business? After everything?
I stepped closer, and she instinctively stepped back. I smirked slightly as I realized she was cornered—her back now pressed against the car.
"Why do you always push me away? What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, my voice lower now, tinged with something between hurt and pride.
She raised her hand to stop me, but I didn't move. She had nowhere else to go—I had her right where I wanted her. My arms caged her in, hands resting on the car on either side of her.
I smiled as I saw how tense she was.
I was a little hurt earlier when she said I wasn't her type.
How could that be? Men and women chase after me, and this brat dares to insult me?
How dare she?
She had to look up at me now.
Good.
That's right. You should look up to me, kid.
She should look at me like this.
I smiled down at her face. She furrowed her brows. She wasn't backing down, huh?
"Tell me." I stared into her eyes, searching for answers.
She looked back, bored and seemingly uninterested in what I was saying. But I didn't budge. I stared into her eyes, silently begging for an explanation.
We kept eye contact. Both of us were saying things through our eyes that neither of us understood. Her expression asked why I was even asking this question.
Was it really my fault?
"T-Take me home now." Her voice held authority as she pushed me away. I didn't resist. I let her leave.
I put my hands behind me and clenched my fists, trying to control myself. I looked up, trying to stop the tears from falling.
Becky's POV
How dare she?
She asked me that question when she was the one who abandoned me.
They even offered me money to leave her alone.
"Just an employee, huh?"
"Just hanging out with her to kill boredom."
"She's not my friend."
Am I a clown to her?
I still remember hearing it with my ears when I visited her shoot in Chiang Mai City, trying to surprise her—but instead, I was the one surprised.
I thought she was different from the others who looked down on me. I was blinded by admiration. I looked up to her so much—it hurt even more when she let me fall from that height.
"T-Take me home." I tried my best not to let my voice crack. I pushed her away and walked to the other side of the car. I quickly wiped away my tears. I wouldn't let her see me cry over her.
I thought I had moved on.
I thought I had forgiven her.
But it all came back to me now.
The way she treated me back at the studio—like I was just some toy she could play with. Like I was some robot programmed to follow her commands.
Am I really that useless to her? What am I to her? A toy?
Who does she think she is?
I heard her get into the car and sit beside me.
I crossed my arms and looked outside, completely ignoring her.
Five minutes passed, and we were still parked there.
What the heck is she waiting for? Doesn't she have a plan?
I turned to her impatiently and glared when I saw her just sitting there—stiff, tapping her knees, and looking… innocent?
"What? Are you not driving yet?" I said angrily.
She looked confused in the cutest way, pressing her fingers together like she was playing a piano, pouting like a child afraid of being scolded.
No, Becky. Don't let your guard down. Don't fall for her cuteness right now.
"What?" I asked, trying to sound serious even though I was melting inside.
"You'reinmyseat," she blurted out quickly, all in one breath, still looking like a child caught doing something wrong.
"H-Huh?" I responded awkwardly.
"Ahem… you a-are on my s-seat." She cleared her throat, looked outside, and pointed toward the steering wheel.
I followed her gesture—and realization hit me.
Oh no. I was sitting in the driver's seat.
I looked at her again, and she just nodded with an innocent look on her face.
Why are you so cute, P'Freen?
We both got out of the car to switch seats. We got back in at the same time and accidentally looked at each other—then we both started laughing.
We stopped for a second, looked at each other again—and burst into laughter once more, tears in our eyes.
After a moment, we both wiped our eyes and calmed down.
"Okay. Now drive me home," I said, trying to sound serious again.
"No, I can't," she replied casually.
I turned to her, confused.
She just shrugged in response.
"What did you do, Miss Sarocha?" I teased. I knew her too well. We were probably in trouble.
"I'll tell you later, Miss Armstrong," she said—and we both laughed again.
What the heck just happened? How did we suddenly become okay?
I just laughed at the thought, and she looked at me.
"Nothing. Just drive, red pig," I said, teasing her with a nickname I used to call her. It still worked—I saw her glare at me before switching to a wide smile.
"So impatient, BecBec?" she teased back, smiling.
"Fasten your seatbelt," she said with a grin. I obeyed and gave her a playful look.
"Now, come on. Let's go piss off some old hogs," she said before she drove us away from the beach.
Meanwhile…
Breaking News:
Freen Sarocha—the most famous actress in the country, admired by many in the industry at a young age for her global achievements—has just announced that her engagement to longtime boyfriend Blew Worrapon Jintakoson was fake.
It was revealed to be fan service, intended to distract from a sex scandal involving Blew.
But what's more shocking is the video that surfaced right after: a clip of Freen and her rumored girlfriend, Rebecca Patricia Armstrong, inside a black car at a parking lot.
Is this confirmation that their rumored relationship from years ago was real?
Or is this just a PR stunt to promote a new project?
The truth remains unclear. Neither party has spoken up, and the other side remains silent.
Phones rang nonstop as Saint stared at the news, pulling at his hair. He tried calling Freen and Becky—but both numbers were unanswered.
"What the fuck are you thinking, Freen?! You just fucked everything up! I'm going to kill you for this!" he screamed.
His frustration boiled over when he saw Freen's phone was off.
He dialed Becky's number instead, relieved when someone finally answered.
"Where the fuck are you two?! Let me talk to Freen!" he shouted.
"A-ahm… sorry for breaking your heart, but they're not here," Kirk said calmly. He was driving and had found Becky's phone in her bag. It had been ringing nonstop, and when he saw Saint's name, he answered.
"Kirk?" Saint asked, confused. Why did Kirk have Becky's phone?
"At your service, Divine Saint," Kirk replied with a grin, even though Saint couldn't see it.
"Why the fuck do you have her phone?" Saint barked.
"It's a long story, and judging by your mood, you don't have time to hear it right now," Kirk replied, smug.
"Does this make you happy? Seeing me suffer?"
"How I wish I could see your face right now, but this is a voice call, not a video call. Are you secretly asking for a VC, Saint? Do you miss me that much?" Kirk laughed.
Saint ended the call and threw his phone onto the sofa.
"Aaargh!" he screamed, completely losing it.
"If it's another reporter, tell them I'm dead already!" he shouted to his secretary as she entered.
"Sir… It's the Chairman," she said with a shaking voice.
"Oh god. Kill me now," he whispered in horror.
"I'd love to do that—but unfortunately, I still need you alive, Saint," a deep voice said.
Saint froze.
[News continues the background as they're driving…]
"...and sources say that a former member of The ICON Agency has reportedly breached contract terms and exposed confidential information regarding their elite talents' private lives. The investigation is still ongoing, and both parties remain silent. We'll continue to update this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio."
Becky's POV
My grip on the seatbelt tightened.
If I didn't turn on the radio as I was so sleepy I wouldn't know what really happened back there now. it makes sense.
Former member? Breached contract?
My heart pounded, but I tried to keep a neutral face. I glanced sideways at her—Freen was still driving, unfazed. Too calm.
But I knew that look.
That quiet storm behind her eyes.
Something was up.
"You knew this would come out, didn't you?" I asked quietly.
Her hands tightened slightly on the wheel.
"I didn't think it would happen this soon," she admitted, not looking at me.
"So that's why you brought me here? Because you knew they were going to drag me in again?"
She stayed silent. The only sound in the car was the hum of the road beneath us.
"You're doing damage control," I scoffed. "Just like before."
"No," she said firmly. "Not this time."
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her.
But the ache in my chest reminded me why I couldn't.
"Then what are you doing, Freen?" I asked. "Why bring me here? Why now?"
She pulled the car over on the side of the road. Killed the engine.
Turned to face me.
"I wanted to protect you."
I laughed bitterly. "You had your chance."
Her jaw clenched. "I didn't get a choice back then, Bec. They made the decisions for me. For us."
"And you let them."
A beat of silence.
Then, softly, she replied, "I regret it every day."
Freen's POV
She didn't believe me. I could see it all over her face.
But I wasn't lying.
I had let them tear us apart once. I wouldn't let it happen again.
"I'm not here to fix the past," I told her. "I just want to stop them from ruining your future too."
She looked at me, eyes narrowing. "You think you still have the right to speak for my future?"
I sighed. "No. But I'm still going to fight for it. Even if you hate me for it."
She stared at me, and for a moment I saw something flicker in her eyes—doubt? Anger? Hope?
I couldn't tell.
All I knew was that I wasn't letting her get dragged into this alone.
Not again.
"Let me handle this," I said. "Please."
Becky turned away, biting her lip. She didn't say a word.
But she didn't get out of the car either.
And for now… that was enough.
Meanwhile, at The ICON Agency Headquarters...
"She's moving again," a voice said, watching the GPS ping on a blinking screen.
The older man behind the desk looked displeased, brows furrowed as he tapped the armrest of his chair.
"I told you to keep her quiet."
"We tried. She's not the same girl anymore," the assistant muttered.
He turned his head slowly. "Then break her the way we did before."
A beat.
"And what about Sarocha?"
The boss sneered.
"She chose a side. Let's make her regret it."
Tee was passed out in a hotel room, a random girl lying beside her. The room smelled faintly of perfume, alcohol, and last night's mistakes. The buzzing sound of a ringing phone shattered the stillness of the early morning.
"Urgh… turn that off, please…" Tee groaned, burying her head under a pillow.
"It's not mine… it's yoursz…" the girl slurred, not even opening her eyes before sinking back into sleep.
Tee sighed, dragging herself out of bed. Clothes were scattered everywhere—the chaos of a night forgotten. She finally spotted her phone inside her jacket pocket, half-buried beneath a heap of jeans and lace.
She tugged a T-shirt over her head, balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder. "What is it? It's 2 a.m., Jim. What the hell do you want?"
"Don't tell me you have no idea what's going on?" Jim's voice came in sharp, alert.
Tee blinked, confused. She had gone out for a friend's birthday party, got drunk, met a girl… and the rest, well—just another story for the vault.
"Why? What happened?" she asked, more curious now, though still half-asleep. Jim always had a tendency to be overdramatic.
As she continued dressing, slipping into her jeans and lacing up her boots, she stepped around the unconscious girl without a second thought. No note, no goodbye. That's how one-night stands worked in Tee's world.
"Where are you?" Jim asked.
"Stuck in my shirt and stepping into my shoes?" Tee tried to lighten the mood, but Jim wasn't having it.
"Tsk."
"Okay, okay. You're freaking me out. What's up?" she asked honestly, now stepping into the hotel elevator.
"You should be worried. Be careful with the press, Tee. Don't go home yet."
Tee stopped in her tracks. "Jim, what's really going on?"
"Just come to the hideout. Kade's here too."
That raised her alarms even higher. "Okay," she said quietly, ending the call.
A second later, she glanced at her phone—and froze.
Hundreds of missed calls.
Dozens of messages.
News alerts.
Her screen was flooded with notifications. Saint had called her at least a hundred times.
"What the hell…" she whispered, pulling over at the side of the road, trying to make sense of the chaos. "Did I go viral overnight? Did I do something stupid?"
Before she could process it all, her phone rang again. Saint.
She stared at the screen, frozen.
Guilt. Panic. Fear. She couldn't answer it. Not yet.
It rang again—mercilessly—but she was saved by the one thing she hadn't planned for: her phone died.
With a nervous gulp, she restarted the engine and drove straight to their hideout.
A private beach resort in Phuket, the place had always been their sanctuary—untouched by the industry, unbothered by the outside world. It was once Freen's mother's property before her marriage, meaning the company never had a legal hold on it. It became their unspoken home when things got too loud.
When Tee finally arrived, the familiar scent of sea breeze and comfort hit her. She walked past the front gate, down the garden path to the main house.
Inside the dining room, laughter echoed.
The gang was there.
As she pushed the door open, she started her usual dramatic entrance: "What's up, motherfuc—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Two familiar faces turned toward her, smiling like it was just another casual day.
"Holy shit!" Tee's eyes widened.
"Motherfuckers!! FreenBeck has REUNITED, PEOPLE!" she shouted like a hype woman at a boxing match.
Everyone erupted into laughter. Glasses clinked, voices overlapped, and the room buzzed with the energy of something sacred—something long overdue.
They were finally all together again.