Finding a way back to her!

The school auditorium buzzed with activity as students scurried about, preparing for the upcoming cultural event. It was the highlight of the term, an evening of performances, music, and drama that promised to leave everyone dazzled. At the center of it all was the big stage production—a modern twist on Romeo and Juliet. Becky Armstrong had landed the role of Juliet, and to no one's surprise, her charisma and energy were stealing the show. Freen Sarocha watched from the sidelines, her lips pressed into a thin line as Becky rehearsed her lines with all the charm she could muster.

What stung wasn’t Becky’s undeniable talent, or even the way she captivated the audience. It was the fact that Becky’s opposite on stage—her Romeo—was Nop. As Becky recited her lines, leaning slightly into Nop’s space during the balcony scene, Freen felt a twist in her stomach she couldn’t quite explain. She told herself it was nothing. Just the stress of the event, nothing more.

But it wasn’t nothing.

---

Rehearsal days were long and exhausting, and while Freen typically spent her free time in the library or buried in her notes, she found herself lingering near the auditorium instead. Becky was her usual vibrant self, effortlessly drawing everyone into her orbit. Nop played his part well too, but Freen barely noticed him. Her focus was entirely on Becky.

It wasn’t just during rehearsals. On stage, Becky’s chemistry with Nop was natural and convincing, but Freen couldn’t shake the tightness in her chest every time she saw them together. She wasn’t the jealous type—at least, she didn’t think she was. But the way Becky smiled at Nop, the way she leaned into him as Juliet, left Freen feeling strangely hollow.

Nam, ever perceptive, picked up on Freen’s tension one afternoon. “You okay?” she asked casually, sitting beside Freen near the back of the auditorium.

“I’m fine,” Freen replied stiffly, her gaze locked on Becky and Nop rehearsing under the stage lights.

Nam tilted her head, studying Freen. “You know, that line wasn’t convincing.”

Freen glanced at her, frowning slightly. “What line?”

“You saying you’re fine,” Nam said, smirking. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Freen replied quickly, turning away. But her restless energy betrayed her, her fingers drumming lightly against the notebook on her lap. Nam didn’t push further, but she stayed beside Freen for the rest of rehearsal, silently watching the tension play out.

---

The next day, Freen’s discomfort hit its peak. Becky was in her usual seat during math class, but Freen couldn’t focus. Her leg shook under the desk, her thoughts scattered. Becky noticed immediately. Without hesitation, she reached out and placed her hand on Freen’s thigh, a gesture so familiar that it instantly grounded Freen.

“Hey,” Becky whispered, leaning in slightly. “You okay?”

Freen stiffened, her throat dry. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” Becky said lightly, her tone tinged with concern. “What’s really going on?”

Freen hesitated, the words caught in her throat. She wanted to tell Becky—wanted to explain the knots twisting inside her—but the fear of losing her was stronger. She shook her head, her voice barely audible. “It’s nothing.”

Becky frowned but didn’t press further. She squeezed Freen’s hand gently and returned her focus to the equations on the board. Freen stared at their clasped hands under the desk, her chest tightening for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. Or maybe she could, but she didn’t want to face them.

---

After school, Freen went to the auditorium to retrieve her notebook, left behind during the chaos of rehearsal. She hadn’t intended to linger, but as she stepped into the dimly lit practice room, she froze. There, standing under the soft glow of the stage lights, were Becky and Nop.

Freen’s breath hitched as she watched. Becky, smiling brightly, leaned forward—and kissed him.

It was just a rehearsal kiss. Juliet and Romeo. But to Freen, it felt like the world had tilted on its axis. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. The scene felt surreal, like something out of a play, but the emotions it stirred were devastatingly real.

When Becky turned and spotted her, her smile widened. “Freen!” she called, stepping toward her. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Freen didn’t move, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Oh, I should’ve told you,” Becky continued, her tone light and casual. “Nop and I have been dating for six months. Crazy, right? I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner—I figured it wasn’t important.”

Freen’s chest tightened further. Six months. Becky had been in love with someone else for half a year, and Freen hadn’t known. She felt betrayed—not by Becky’s relationship, but by the fact that she hadn’t been told. Becky was supposed to be her closest friend, the person she could trust with everything. But clearly, she’d been wrong.

Words failed her. Freen turned abruptly, leaving the practice room without a word. Becky called after her, confused but not concerned. She didn’t realize, in that moment, that it would be the last time she’d see Freen.

---

Freen didn’t return to school after the cultural event. Her seat in math class remained empty, her usual presence absent from the library. Becky tried reaching out—texting, calling, even asking around for answers. But Freen remained silent, unreachable.

Days turned into weeks, and Becky began to realize the depth of her mistake. Freen hadn’t just been her math tutor or her quiet companion. She had been someone who cared deeply, someone Becky had unintentionally hurt. By the time Becky understood what Freen’s silence meant, it was too late.

The last image Becky had of Freen was in that practice room—her expression blank, her lips pressed into a thin line as she left without a word. And as Becky sat in the now-empty auditorium weeks later, rehearsing Juliet’s final soliloquy, she realized that the curtain hadn’t fallen on a play. It had fallen on their friendship.