Finding a way back to her!

The sun was high in the Bangkok sky, its warm rays spilling over the city as Freen strolled aimlessly through the streets. It was Saturday, a rare day where she allowed herself the luxury of stepping outside her usual regimented world. Tomorrow was the surgery, and everything had been meticulously arranged—the operating room prepared, the team briefed, and the plan finalized. All that remained was the wait, and Freen wasn’t particularly fond of idle time. Her thoughts had a tendency to wander, leading her to corners of her mind she preferred to avoid.

The streets buzzed with life, the familiar rhythm of Bangkok wrapping around her like an old song. Freen walked with a steady pace, her hands tucked neatly into the pockets of her coat. Her mind, though calm on the surface, kept drifting back to Ben—and inevitably to Becky. No matter how much she tried to compartmentalize, the questions she carried wouldn’t leave her alone. What had happened to Becky? How had she ended up in this life, weighed down by struggles that had clearly taken a toll?

As she turned a corner, the aroma of sizzling food wafted through the air. Her stomach growled faintly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Freen scanned the row of establishments along the street, her gaze settling on a modest-looking restaurant with a brightly lit sign. It wasn’t the sort of place she’d normally choose, but something about it drew her in.

She stepped inside, her senses immediately greeted by the hum of activity—clinking plates, the chatter of patrons, the occasional call from the kitchen. Freen glanced around, her eyes briefly scanning the room. She moved toward an empty table in the corner, taking a seat and picking up the menu. The options were simple, unpretentious, and, to her surprise, tempting enough to distract her for a moment from her wandering thoughts.

---

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled Freen’s attention. She looked up, and her breath caught slightly as she recognized the figure approaching her. It was Becky, dressed in a simple waitress uniform, a tray balanced precariously in her hands.

“Becky,” Freen said, the name escaping her lips before she could think better of it.

Becky froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she registered who was sitting at the table. Her grip tightened on the tray, her shoulders stiffening as though bracing herself. “Freen,” she replied cautiously, her voice carrying an edge of surprise.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, the weight of the moment pressing against the air between them. Freen studied Becky silently, noting the exhaustion in her posture, the way her movements seemed rushed and strained. Becky, meanwhile, fought the urge to fidget, the sight of Freen sitting there stirring emotions she hadn’t prepared for.

“What are you doing here?” Becky asked finally, her tone clipped but not unkind.

“Lunch,” Freen replied simply, setting the menu aside. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

Becky’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she straightened her posture in an effort to appear composed. “It’s just a job,” she said quickly. “Something to keep things going.”

Freen nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Is it enough?”

Becky hesitated, her grip tightening on the tray. “It’s what I have,” she said after a pause, her voice softer. “What would you like to order?”

Freen picked up the menu again, scanning the options without really reading them. “Anything light,” she said, finally settling on a simple stir-fry. “Thank you.”

Becky scribbled down the order with practiced efficiency, nodding before turning to leave. But Freen stopped her with a quiet, “Becky.”

Becky turned, her eyes guarded. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Freen asked, her tone calm but weighted.

Becky blinked, caught off guard by the question. Her lips parted as though she might respond, but then she closed them again, shaking her head slightly. “I’ll bring your food,” she said simply before walking away.

---

The interaction left Freen unsettled. She watched Becky move through the restaurant, her pace hurried, her demeanor tense. It was a far cry from the Becky she remembered—the confident, carefree girl who had once made her laugh more than anyone else. The air between them had shifted now, weighed down by years of distance and unspoken truths.

Freen sat back in her chair, her fingers lightly tapping against the table as she waited. She didn’t know what she had expected from seeing Becky here, but the reality was far more disquieting than she could have anticipated. Becky was struggling—that much was obvious. But the full extent of her struggles remained frustratingly out of reach.

---

When Becky returned with the food, she set the plate down carefully, her movements precise but not without effort. She avoided looking directly at Freen, focusing instead on the tray in her hands.

“Thank you,” Freen said, her voice steady.

“You’re welcome,” Becky replied automatically, stepping back as though preparing to leave again. But before she could, a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Becky!”

Both women turned toward the source of the voice. Becky’s boss, a middle-aged man with a sour expression, stood near the counter, his arms crossed as he glared in Becky’s direction.

“What are you doing?” he barked. “You’ve been slow all day, and I’ve had complaints about your service. Are you trying to embarrass me?”

Becky froze, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I—no, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” the man snapped. “I need you to do your job properly, or I’ll find someone who can.”

Freen’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening as she stood abruptly. Her movements were swift and purposeful as she approached the man, her eyes cold and piercing.

“Is this how you treat your employees?” Freen asked sharply, her voice carrying an authority that made the man flinch slightly. “If so, I suggest you reconsider your tone.”

“Excuse me?” the man stammered, his bravado faltering under Freen’s glare.

“You heard me,” Freen said, her voice cutting. “Apologize to her. Now.”

The man looked flustered, his gaze darting between Freen and Becky. “I don’t—who are you to tell me how to manage my staff?”

“I’m the person telling you to show respect,” Freen replied icily, her fists clenching at her sides. “And if you don’t—”

“Freen,” Becky interrupted, stepping between them. Her voice was firm but gentle as she placed a hand lightly on Freen’s arm. “Please. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Freen countered, her anger still evident. “He has no right to speak to you like that.”

Becky shook her head, her gaze pleading. “I’ll handle it. Just… wait. My shift ends in thirty minutes. We can talk then.”

Freen hesitated, her fists still clenched. But the quiet determination in Becky’s eyes made her relent. She exhaled slowly, stepping back. “I’ll wait,” she said finally.

Becky offered a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly before turning to her boss, who had retreated slightly under Freen’s intimidating presence.

As Becky resumed her work, Freen returned to her table, her appetite all but gone. She watched Becky move through the restaurant, her pace quicker now, her posture tense but determined. Freen’s heart ached with a mixture of anger and concern. Becky didn’t deserve this—to be treated so poorly, to carry so much alone. And Freen couldn’t ignore the growing need to understand what had brought Becky to this point.