Leave Your Lover (18+) || FreenBecky [Completed]

Chapter 73

I found it impossible to focus. Saint's words echoed incessantly in my mind, triggering relentless overthinking.

"Becky, you're up," the staff called, interrupting my thoughts. Nam glanced at me, a clear expression of concern on her face. She seemed to sense that something was bothering me, though I chose not to confide in her.

"I'm sorry, Bec. I'm still under Saint's supervision since he was Freen's partner and technically my boss. I hope he didn't say anything offensive," Nam apologized, her eyes lowered.

While Saint had indeed crossed a line, I decided not to burden Nam with the details. She had been on my side from the beginning, and I didn't want to blame her for something she had no control over.

"Do you know anything about Saif?" I asked Nam, attempting to shift the conversation.

Nam shook her head. "My job is to look after you, so I'm focusing on everything you need. I didn't have time to eavesdrop on other staff whenever they talked about him."

I nodded in understanding. I knew Nam was being truthful, but my curiosity was eating away at me. I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Becky?" The staff entered my tent again, clearly annoyed. I followed her outside to begin the shoot.

Saint watched as we filmed, a smirk on his face that felt like a deliberate provocation. He knew he had managed to get under my skin.

"Bec, there's a change in the script today," the director informed me, approaching discreetly. "The scriptwriter made some errors. You don't have to kiss Freen in the pilot. Her husband doesn't want it."

"And so?" I questioned. "Where's the professionalism in that?"

"No, it's just for the pilot. But in the series, there will be lots. He is the major sponsor of this series, Bec. Please, oblige," the director urged, patting my shoulder as if to emphasize that I had no choice.

It wasn't that I wanted to kiss Freen, but the whole situation felt like Saint's immature attempt to make me uncomfortable. How could he request such a change directly to the director and producer?

The filming began, and Saint remained a persistent observer. Even Freen appeared uneasy, asking him to leave, but he resisted, playing the role of a concerned husband.

"I'm sorry about that, I can't..." Freen attempted to explain, but I passed her by. What did she expect? After everything she had hidden from me, she couldn't expect me to be cordial.

The scene commenced, and I adhered to the director's instructions by not kissing Freen. Even she seemed surprised, perhaps unaware of the sudden script change.

I retreated into my tent, lying down on the folding bed. I closed my eyes as a barrage of thoughts flashed through my mind — the countless what-ifs. I didn't want to believe it, but the evidence seemed glaring. I needed Freen to confess, to confirm my suspicions.

"Bec, follow me," Freen urged, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind the building where we shot our scenes.

This secluded spot offered privacy, hidden from view unless someone deliberately ventured into the narrow space. Freen likely chose it to avoid prying eyes.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly.

Freen pressed me against the wall, locking eyes with me as if searching for something elusive. She could see through me, doubting my motives.

"I know you, Becky. I know you too well. What's bothering you?" she inquired. "You didn't kiss me earlier. It was in the script."

"The director and scriptwriter changed it. They didn't inform you?" I replied, sighing. "Perhaps they knew you wouldn't agree if they had."

"Of course, I wouldn't!" Freen exclaimed, immediately lowering her voice to prevent others from overhearing.

The atmosphere grew tense as Freen scrutinized me with furrowed brows. I was at a loss for words, unsure of where to start. I wanted the truth, but I couldn't bear to hear more lies.

"I'm going back," I announced, turning away. Freen, however, grabbed my arms and pinned me once again. She kissed me, but I resisted. Pushing her away, I slapped her.

"How could you do this while lying to me?" I demanded. "I've had enough, Freen. If you won't admit everything, I'll find the truth."

"What truth again, Becky?" Freen shouted, frustration evident as she raked her hands through her hair. "I've been telling you everything you want to know! I've been saying what you want to hear. What else do you want?" she asked.

"The truth, Freen! Who is Saif's father?" I shouted back.

Freen recoiled, caught off guard. Silence enveloped us, broken only by Freen's hesitant admission.

"It was Zee, Becky. Saif's father is Zee."