Finding a way back to her!

The week began like any other at school, except for one glaring change: Becky Armstrong was missing. It wasn’t that Freen Sarocha particularly noticed where her classmates were or weren’t—she preferred her own world of textbooks, notes, and equations. But this time, something felt off. Freen frowned as she glanced at the empty seat beside her. The usual buzz of Becky’s chatter and relentless teasing was replaced by silence, and for the first time, Freen found it… distracting.

The reason for Becky’s absence was no mystery. She had qualified for the state tournament in running and swimming and was gone for a full week to compete. Freen knew this because Becky had made sure everyone in the class knew, complete with exaggerated impressions of her “amazing moves” in the pool and a mock victory dance the day before she left. Freen had rolled her eyes at the display, but now, sitting beside Becky’s unoccupied desk, she found herself replaying that moment. It was strange. She couldn’t quite explain it, but she missed Becky’s presence.

Freen usually thrived in the quiet—she preferred the hum of pens on paper to the noise of classroom banter. But this week, the quiet felt too still, like something essential was missing. Becky’s desk, usually scattered with half-finished assignments and sports gear, looked unusually tidy. Freen caught herself glancing at it more often than she cared to admit.

During lunch, Nam slid into the seat across from Freen, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at Becky’s desk all morning.”

Freen blinked, startled. “I have not.”

Nam smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure. Let me guess—you miss her.”

Freen opened her mouth to deny it, but no words came. Instead, she adjusted her glasses and muttered, “I don’t see how her absence is relevant to my studies.”

Nam laughed. “Right, because you definitely didn’t check her desk three times during math class.”

Freen’s cheeks flushed faintly. “I was merely… observing the change in seating dynamics.”

“Uh-huh,” Nam said, leaning back. “Whatever you say, Freen.”

On her way to the library after class, Freen walked past the teachers’ room and paused when she heard Becky’s name. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of her.

“She’s such a natural athlete,” one teacher said, clearly impressed. “I heard she’s likely to place in both swimming and running.”

“She works hard, that’s for sure,” another teacher added. “Though she could stand to improve her academics.”

“Well, Freen’s helping her with that, isn’t she?” a third voice chimed in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Becky comes back with a medal and better math scores. Freen’s probably drilling equations into her brain even over text.”

Freen frowned, her chest tightening slightly. The idea of messaging Becky hadn’t even occurred to her—after all, Becky was busy with her tournament. Still, Freen couldn’t shake the feeling that she should check on her. Not that she missed Becky, of course. She was just… being practical.

That evening, Freen sat at her desk, her notebook open but untouched. She stared at her phone, debating whether to send a message. It wasn’t as though she had anything important to say. “Good luck” sounded trite, and asking how Becky was doing felt unnecessary. Becky would undoubtedly respond with something loud and dramatic, and Freen wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with that.

But as the minutes ticked by, Freen realized her mind kept wandering back to Becky’s antics—the way she had insisted on buying Freen jasmine tea every day, the way her laughter filled the classroom, the way she teased Freen for being “too logical” while somehow making her laugh in return. Freen sighed, brushing the thought aside. She would simply wait for Becky to return. That was… easier.

As the week dragged on, Freen’s habits subtly changed. She found herself sitting in the library during breaks, staring at the seat Becky usually occupied during their study sessions. When the cafeteria line offered jasmine tea, Freen hesitated before buying a cup—just because she liked it, of course. Not because it reminded her of Becky.

Nam caught her sipping the tea one afternoon and gave her a knowing look. “Uh-huh. Jasmine tea. Missing Becky much?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Freen replied, her tone clipped. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Sure, Freen,” Nam said, grinning. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Freen scowled but said nothing, taking another sip of the tea. She wasn’t missing Becky. She was simply… adjusting to a change in routine.

When Monday rolled around, Freen found herself arriving at school a little earlier than usual. She told herself it was to get a head start on her reading, but when she walked into the classroom and saw Becky back in her seat, grinning ear to ear, Freen felt a strange sense of relief.

“Freen!” Becky called, waving dramatically. “Your favorite study buddy is back!”

“I wasn’t aware you’d been promoted to that status,” Freen replied, her voice steady but her lips twitching slightly.

Becky bounded over to her, dropping into the seat beside her with her usual flair. “Admit it—you missed me.”

Freen raised an eyebrow. “You were simply absent. That’s all.”

Becky smirked, leaning closer. “Uh-huh. And that’s why I heard from Nam that you’ve been drinking jasmine tea every day?”

Freen stiffened, her cheeks flushing faintly. “I like jasmine tea.”

Becky laughed, the sound bright and familiar. “Sure you do, Freen.”

Freen sighed, pulling out her notebook. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you secretly love it,” Becky teased, nudging her shoulder.

Freen rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. After all, the classroom felt right again, and while she wouldn’t admit it—not even to herself—she had missed Becky more than she expected.