Unexpected Heartbeat (FreenBecky)

Freen's POV:

When my mother called me that day—her voice shaking, breathless—the words didn't make sense at first.

"Freen... your father is gone."

Gone.

The word echoed in my chest like a dull, slow thunder.

I couldn't breathe for a moment. Couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

It was like something heavy, invisible, had landed on my shoulders. Not grief. Not yet. Just weight. The kind that slowly sinks you until you're numb.

Everything came back to me all at once—memories from a time when things were simpler. When I was a child, my father and I were close. I was his shadow, following him around the garden, the house, even his study. He'd lift me up on his shoulders and say I'd be taller than the sky one day.

But that changed.

The older I got, the more distance he put between us.

When I turned 18, he tried to mold me into his heir—"You'll take over the company, Freen. This is your future." But it never felt like mine.

I didn't want boardrooms. I didn't want to wear power suits or memorize market trends or sit through hours of client negotiations. I didn't want to live in spreadsheets.

I wanted a gallery. A paintbrush. A quiet space with messy walls and stories told in color.

But he didn't understand that.

Or maybe... he just didn't care.

And now he's gone.

And all the things I spent my life running from—they're here. Waiting. Demanding. His company. His legacy. His weight.

My mother... God. I pity her.

She loved him more than anyone ever should. He was her gravity—her rock, her chaos, her everything. And now that he's not here, she looks like a woman half herself.

I told her I would try. I would do my best. I would step into this role—not for the company, not for the money, not even for him.

For her.

Because she's broken. And I can't let her break alone.

But then Becky came into the frame.

Rebecca Patricia Armstrong.

The woman who caught me with her eyes the moment I let her in.

When she stood there, without hesitation, offering marriage like it was the most natural thing in the world—just to help me—I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time.

Relief.

And then something else.

Peace.

For the first time, it didn't feel wrong. Not this time. Not like everything else in my life that felt like forced choices and locked doors.

This?

This was a door I walked through myself.

Yes, I've been getting hate. Nita's family hasn't stopped. Their judgment wraps around me like smoke—suffocating, poisonous. They say I'm a traitor. A monster. A coward.

Maybe I am.

But I can't carry their expectations anymore. I can't live inside guilt.

Not when I finally have a chance to choose myself.