Finding a way back to her!

The hospital cafeteria was sparsely populated, its usual bustle replaced by a subdued calm. Becky sat at a corner table with her hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea. She hadn’t taken a sip in over ten minutes—she couldn’t. Her thoughts, heavy and chaotic, consumed her entirely. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the dark liquid, distorted, fragmented. Much like her life.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, the faint tremble she couldn’t suppress betraying her outwardly calm posture. Everything was unraveling: Ben’s condition, the surgery she couldn’t afford, her job that barely paid enough for their day-to-day survival. Being a waitress at a small diner had always been tough, but now it felt unbearable. How could she fix this? How could she give Ben what he needed? Her head felt like it was going to burst under the strain.

The weight of failure bore down on her chest, suffocating, relentless. What kind of mother am I? Becky thought bitterly. Tears threatened to spill, but she bit them back, swallowing the lump rising in her throat. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. Crying wouldn’t make the money appear.

The scrape of a chair broke through her spiraling thoughts. Becky flinched slightly, startled as someone sat down across from her. She looked up and found Nam leaning back casually, arms crossed, her head tilted as she regarded Becky.

“You look like you’ve been carrying the world’s problems on your shoulders,” Nam said, her voice light but edged with concern.

Becky sighed, turning her gaze back to the tea. “What do you want, Nam?”

“I want to help,” Nam replied simply. “And for that to happen, you need to talk to Freen.”

Becky’s body stiffened, her grip tightening on the mug. Her jaw clenched, her emotions rising to the surface with a sharp edge she couldn’t suppress. “Talk to her? Why would I talk to her?” Becky snapped, her voice trembling with anger. “She left me, Nam. She disappeared for ten years. No word. No explanation. Nothing. And now she waltzes back into my life like nothing happened?”

Becky’s voice cracked as she continued, her anger bleeding into her words. “Do you know what that felt like? Do you know how much it hurt, watching her walk away without so much as a goodbye? And now—now she shows up and expects what? Forgiveness? Understanding? I don’t owe her anything.”

Nam listened quietly, her expression unreadable as Becky’s words poured out. When Becky finally paused to catch her breath, her voice trembling and thick with unshed tears, Nam leaned forward slightly.

“Becky,” Nam said, her tone calm but firm, “what if the reason Freen left was you?”

Becky froze, her anger faltering for a moment as confusion crept in. “What are you talking about?” she asked sharply, her brows furrowing.

Nam’s gaze didn’t waver. “What if you were the reason Freen left? What if it wasn’t about her being selfish or cold? What if it was about you?”

“I don’t understand,” Becky said, shaking her head, frustration bubbling up. “What do you mean, Nam? Stop talking in circles.”

Nam sighed deeply, leaning back in her chair as though weighing her words carefully. “Becky, have you ever thought about what Freen felt back then? About what she saw and how it affected her?”

“What she saw?” Becky repeated, her voice quieter now, her confusion deepening.

“What she saw?” Becky repeated, her voice quieter now. Then, like a slow tide creeping in, understanding began to dawn on her. Her mind raced back to the last time she had seen Freen before she left—to that moment when Nop had kissed her.

Her breath hitched as the memory played out in her mind. Freen had been there, standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable but her eyes… Becky remembered those eyes now. The pain in them, the way Freen had looked at her and Nop as if the ground beneath her had crumbled away.

Becky’s chest tightened, her breath hitching as realization crashed over her. All these years, she had believed Freen had abandoned her because she didn’t care. But now she understood—the distance Freen had created wasn’t out of apathy. It was out of love, a love that had been too painful to bear when Becky had chosen someone else.

“Oh my God,” Becky whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. “She… she didn’t just see me as a friend, did she?”

Nam didn’t answer directly. Instead, she gave Becky a look that spoke volumes—a look that confirmed everything Becky had just realized.

Becky’s world seemed to tilt on its axis. All this time, she had been angry, hurt by Freen’s disappearance, but she had never once stopped to consider the possibility that she might have been the cause of it. That Freen hadn’t left because she didn’t care, but because she had cared too much.

“She loved me,” Becky said, her voice barely above a whisper. The words felt strange on her tongue, but they rang with a truth that she couldn’t ignore.

Nam nodded slightly, her expression softening. “Freen’s not the type to talk about her feelings. You know that. And she’s definitely not the type to stay where she feels… vulnerable.”

Becky sank back in her chair, her mind reeling. Everything she thought she understood about Freen, about why she had left, was unraveling. The anger she had carried for years began to crumble, replaced by something far heavier: guilt.

Nam reached out, her hand covering Becky’s trembling ones. “She’s been carrying that pain for ten years, Becky. And you don’t know the half of it.”

Becky looked at Nam, her tears threatening to spill. “What do you mean?”

Nam hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “Freen’s not the type to show it, but she’s been struggling ever since she left. She’s had panic attacks—bad ones. They started getting worse after she left Thailand, and from what I’ve seen, they’ve never really gone away. She buries it, but it’s there.”

The revelation hit Becky like a tidal wave. Freen, the woman she had always seen as unshakable and composed, had been battling something so deeply buried that Becky hadn’t even noticed. The image of Freen’s calm exterior cracked in her mind, revealing the fragility hidden beneath.

“She still has them,” Nam added, her voice quiet but firm. “And they’re worse when she’s under emotional stress. Seeing you again, being back here in Bangkok—it’s all brought everything back for her. And yet, she’s still here. For Ben. For you.”

Becky’s tears began to fall, silent but steady. The anger she had clung to for so long crumbled under the weight of realization. Freen hadn’t abandoned her out of indifference. She had left because staying had been too painful. And even now, despite everything, Freen was still here, still trying to make things right in her own way.

“All these years,” Becky murmured, staring down at her hands. “I thought she left because she didn’t care. But it was me, wasn’t it? I’m the reason she left.”

Becky swallowed hard, her throat tightening as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She had spent so long feeling abandoned, so long blaming Freen for disappearing, that she had never once considered the pain Freen might have been enduring all this time.

“I don’t know what to say,” Becky admitted, her voice breaking. “How do you even begin to fix something like this?”

Nam smiled faintly, giving Becky’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Start by talking to her. Really talking to her. She’s not as unreachable as you think.”

Becky nodded slowly, though her heart felt like it was in a vice. The weight of realization pressed down on her, but beneath it, a flicker of hope began to stir—a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.