Chasing Her || FreenBecky [Completed]

Chapter 44

BECKY

"You've been offered a grant to study in the US. It's a chance to go pro after. Isn't that what you want?" Richie's voice echoed in my mind as he presented the letter from the University. "Come on, Becky. Don't hesitate. This is your future. Are you really going to let this opportunity slip away?"

"Can I have some time?" I pleaded. "Do I have to leave so soon?"

"After this semester, Bec," Richie replied, slipping the letter into its envelope and handing it to me. "I'll go with you. You won't be alone. It's part of life. Sooner or later, we all face solitude. It's better to learn to be independent now."

That was the last conversation I had with Richie before he left for the US. I didn't give him a definite answer, but deep down, I knew I couldn't pass up this opportunity.

Honestly, I didn't want to leave Irin, the team, and especially not Freen. Despite knowing she wanted me gone, I couldn't bear the thought of staying away from her. I had no interest in playing if she wasn't there to watch. The mere sight of her conversing with other students, even if it was just Billy, irked me. I understood her responsibilities as president, but couldn't I be selfish? Couldn't she be mine alone?

But those thoughts belonged to the past now. Freen and I were history. Tears welled in my eyes as I drove, reminiscing over what once was. Yes, I left her at the campsite, knowing Bright would come. It was part of our bet. He instructed me to take Freen somewhere, so I did. He didn't specify what to do with her, so I chose to confront her with the truth. With Bright's assurance that he would retrieve Freen, I found the strength to walk away.

But I wasn't finished with her. I was foolish, stupid, and hopelessly in love with someone who only caused me pain. Was I a fool? But what choice did I have? Every fiber of my being longed for her.

Returning home, my maids expressed concern. They attempted to inquire about my well-being, but I shut myself in the bathroom, allowing the water to mask my tears.

"Damn you, Freen! Why?" I cried out, pounding the bathroom wall. Collapsing to the floor, I clutched my chest as sobs racked my body. How could she do this to me? How could she evoke such vulnerability within me? With a simple "I love you," I yearned to embrace her and promised never to leave. I wanted to forgive her despite everything, but then she'd grow complacent. She'd think I was easily swayed by her affections. She'd think I was gullible.

Turning off the shower, I leaned against the wall, letting the water cascade over me. What was Freen doing now? Was she also nursing a broken heart like mine?

"Miss Becky," my maid's voice pierced through the silence. "Miss Friend is here."

Friend. The girl who always stirred Freen's jealousy with her protective gestures. She was the one who fetched me that night. The girl Freen saw outside the café, kissing me when I was sick. Friend was like an older sister to me. She cared for me deeply, but I couldn't reciprocate her feelings.

"What are you doing here?" I asked weakly as Friend entered, concern etched on her features.

Why couldn't she be Freen? Why couldn't I look at her the same way?

Tears streaming down my face, I met Friend's gaze. "Why are you here?"

"Because you need me," she replied, motioning for my maid to retrieve clothes from the closet.

I nodded slowly, allowing Friend to tend to me. She understood me like no one else did. She could sense when something weighed heavily on my mind. She knew me inside out.

After changing into dry clothes, I lay on the bed, cocooned in blankets. I hoped that tomorrow would bring solace. I hoped I could face Freen without regret. I yearned for things to return to normal.

"Sleep," Friend urged, offering her arms as a makeshift pillow. I nestled against her, but the weight in my heart remained.

Perhaps only Freen could heal this wound. Only she could mend these scars of mine.

Feeling Friend's comforting touch, I glanced at her. She was concerned, yet she knew I wouldn't divulge the events of today. She was accustomed to this. She knew I suffered, but she never probed.

"How many times has Freen done this to you?" she inquired softly.

"Why do you ask?" I countered.

"Stop demeaning yourself," she implored, brushing a tear from my cheek. "That night at the bar when we saw Freen with her friends, she kissed the café owner. Did you know?" she questioned.

"I did," I admitted. But it didn't matter. That's how vulnerable I was when it came to her.