Finding a way back to her!

Three months had passed since Freen and Becky had decided to take the leap together. Their lives had intertwined in ways neither of them had anticipated, and the once-imposing walls of Freen’s pristine apartment now felt warm and lived-in. Becky and Ben had moved in, and the little boy had been over the moon about having his own room. He had even declared it his “dinosaur kingdom,” complete with posters, toys, and a stuffed T-Rex that Freen had secretly bought for him.

Becky, too, had found her rhythm. Managing the restaurant Freen had bought for her had been daunting at first, but she had quickly fallen into the role, her natural leadership and passion shining through. And when she wasn’t at the restaurant, she was at the pool, training kids in swimming—a part of her life she had thought she’d lost forever. Watching her students’ faces light up with joy reminded her why she loved it so much.

But despite the happiness they had built together, something lingered in Becky’s mind. Freen, for all her strength and composure, still carried the weight of her past. Though her panic attacks had become less frequent, there were still nights when Becky would wake to find Freen trembling, her body drenched in sweat, tears streaming silently down her face. It broke Becky’s heart to see her like that, and she knew she needed to do something.

---

That evening, Becky had asked Nam to take Ben to her house for a sleepover. “I need some alone time with Freen,” she had explained, and Nam, ever the supportive friend, had agreed without hesitation.

When Freen returned home from the hospital, she was greeted by the sight of Becky lounging on the couch, a mischievous grin on her face. “Ben’s at Nam’s,” Becky announced casually.

Freen raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “And why is that?”

“Because I wanted you all to myself,” Becky replied, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, Dr. Serious. Sit.”

Freen sighed but complied, settling onto the couch with her usual grace. “What’s the agenda for this evening?” she asked, her tone dry. “A romantic comedy? A poorly written drama?”

Becky smirked. “Actually, I was thinking we could watch something fun. You know, like a cooking show or—”

Freen cut her off by grabbing the remote and selecting a documentary about the history of surgical techniques. “This will suffice,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.

Becky groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”

“Efficient,” Freen corrected, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

---

As the documentary played, Becky leaned against Freen, her head resting on her shoulder. They bickered lightly, their playful banter filling the room with warmth. But as the evening wore on, Becky’s mind drifted back to the nights when Freen would wake up crying, her past haunting her in ways Becky couldn’t fully understand.

“Freen,” Becky said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the television.

Freen turned her head slightly, her expression curious. “Yes?”

Becky hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Can we talk about… what happened to you? The panic attacks. The nightmares.”

Freen froze, her body tensing as her gaze dropped to her lap. “Becky, I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Becky interrupted gently, wrapping her arms around Freen and pulling her close. “You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to. But I’m here. Always.”

Freen’s breathing hitched, but Becky’s touch—her arms enveloping her, her fingers drawing soothing circles on her arm—grounded her. After a long moment, Freen spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I was ten,” she began, her words slow and deliberate. “My mom worked a lot. She was always busy, always tired. And my dad… he was a drunk. Angry. Unpredictable.”

Becky tightened her hold on Freen, silently urging her to continue.

“One day, he saw me kissing a girl,” Freen said, her voice trembling. “He got so angry. He said it was wrong, that I was disgusting. He locked me in a dark room—no air, no light. I couldn’t breathe. I screamed and cried, but no one came. I was in there for two days.”

Becky’s heart broke as she listened, tears streaming down her face. “Freen…”

“When my mom finally found me, I was unconscious,” Freen continued, her voice cracking. “But that wasn’t the end of it. My dad brought one of his friends over. He said he wanted to teach me a lesson. That I couldn’t love girls. His friend… he tried to touch me.”

Freen’s voice faltered, and Becky felt her own chest tighten with rage and sorrow. She pulled Freen closer, her hand moving to stroke her hair. “You don’t have to say any more,” Becky whispered. “I’m so sorry, Freen. I’m so, so sorry.”

Freen buried her face in Becky’s chest, her tears soaking into her shirt. “You’re the only person I’ve ever let touch me,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “The only one I trust.”

Becky pressed a kiss to the top of Freen’s head, her own tears falling freely now. “I promise you,” she said fiercely, “I will never let him near you again. Never.”

Freen didn’t respond, but her body relaxed slightly in Becky’s arms. The weight of her story, of her pain, hung heavy in the air, but for the first time, Freen felt lighter. She had carried this burden alone for so long, and now, she didn’t have to.

---

As the night wore on, Freen’s exhaustion caught up with her. She fell asleep in Becky’s arms, her breathing even and steady. Becky looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at her lips. The usual stoic, composed doctor had a clingy side—a side that only Becky got to see. And she wouldn’t change it for anything.

Becky tightened her hold on Freen, her heart swelling with love and determination. She had found her home in Freen, and she would do everything in her power to protect her. With that thought, Becky closed her eyes, her own breathing slowing as she drifted off to sleep, their hearts beating in quiet harmony.