Chapter 14: Turning Twenty-One

Becky never liked extravagant birthday parties. She preferred quiet celebrations—the kind where the people who mattered most were there, where laughter felt real, and love was not just spoken but shown in the little things.

Like how Freen would spend the whole afternoon baking her a cake from scratch, sneaking little tastes of frosting onto Becky's lips just so she could steal a kiss. Or how they would curl up on the balcony, wrapped in blankets, watching the city lights flicker like stars.

But this year, there was no Freen.

There were gifts—extravagant, beautiful, expensive. Flowers in every shade of white and pink, filling the room with a scent that should have felt comforting but only reminded Becky of everything that was missing. There was a box sitting on the table, wrapped perfectly, containing something delicate, something Freen had picked out with care.

And there was a note.

"Happy Birthday, my love. I'm sorry I couldn't be there but I promise I'll make it up to you. Forevermore, yours."

Becky should have smiled, should have felt warmth curl in her chest at Freen's words. But instead, all she felt was the weight of absence—heavy, unshakable, pressing against her like an ache she didn't know how to soothe and despite it all she was so sure that freen, her freen loves her even more, even when she is not around, even when she should.

Freen's movie promotions were once again taking a toll on them. Becky's internship was nearing its end, and they were supposed to be planning their return to Thailand together. But instead, Freen was caught up in the whirlwind of press tours, interviews, and red carpets—for the same movie that had already stolen their three months from them.

Becky sat at the dining table, barely touching her food, her father watching her with quiet concern. He had seen her check the door more times than she probably realized, her gaze flickering toward it, as if she was expecting—no, hoping—that Freen would walk through it.

Becky poked at the edge of her cake with her fork, barely taking a bite. The candles had long since been blown out, the soft glow of the room dimmed to a quiet hum. Across from her, her father took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her in that way only fathers did—like he saw straight through every wall she was trying to put up.

She felt his gaze linger. She knew what was coming before he even spoke.

"Are you expecting someone?" His voice was gentle, patient.

Becky's fingers tightened around her fork for a split second before she forced a small smile. "No."

A lie. One so weak it almost embarrassed her.

Her father hummed softly, setting his cup down. "Strange. You've been looking at that door like you're willing it to open."

Becky exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "It's nothing."

Another lie.

Her father studied her for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "Freen's a good person," he said, his tone casual but deliberate. "She tries hard to be everything for you."

Becky flinched at that—not because it wasn't true, but because it was. And yet... she wasn't here.

She took a sip of her juice, even though she wasn't thirsty. "I know."

Her father tilted his head slightly, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic of his cup. "But love isn't about trying, sweetheart. It's about being there."

Becky let out a hollow laugh, setting her glass down with a little too much force. "She sent flowers, didn't she? Gifts, too. Isn't that the same thing?"

Her father didn't answer right away. He only gave her a long, knowing look—the kind that made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"No," he finally said, voice soft but firm. "It's not the same."

Becky's chest tightened.

"She's a busy dad, she has her own life," she muttered, almost defensively. "Her career is—"

"I'm not saying she doesn't have responsibilities," her father interrupted gently. "I'm saying that love isn't just about grand gestures and expensive gifts. Love is showing up when it matters. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."

Becky's throat burned. She blinked rapidly, staring down at the table, at the half-eaten cake that suddenly tasted like nothing at all.

"She's not going to forget you just because she's working," her father continued, his voice kinder now. "But you shouldn't have to convince yourself that love means waiting by the door on your birthday, hoping she'll walk through it."

Becky swallowed thickly, her heart twisting.

"I don't want the flowers," she whispered, voice barely audible. "I don't want the gifts."

Her father sighed, nodding like he already knew.

"I just wanted her to be here.......... but it's alright dad, why do we keep forgetting the fact that it's me, my internship, my choice of study that put us in this situation in the first place. Even I had chosen my one year studies here instead of our perfect successful career in thailand....Freen & me, we both are in this and we have to be supportive of each other "

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the quiet hum of the clock as it ticked past midnight.

Twenty-one.

And the one person she wanted most hadn't come.

Meanwhile...

The hotel suite was soaked in silence—thick, heavy, and unforgiving. Only the soft, persistent buzz of Freen's phone broke through the quiet, like a distant echo she didn't want to hear. Another message from her manager. Another reminder: "Interview confirmed. You'll need to be up early. Then a brand shoot. Then the evening gala."

Another day she wouldn't be home.Another day she wouldn't see Becky.

What was meant to be a simple seven-day promotion drive had managed to ruin something far more sacred—Becky's birthday.

A day Freen had promised she'd never miss. A day that came and went... without her.

Freen leaned against the cold wall, letting her head fall back with a quiet thud. The pressure behind her eyes had been building for hours, but now it just throbbed, dull and merciless. Her body was tired, but it wasn't the kind of tired that sleep could fix. No, this was the ache that lived in her chest. Quiet. Constant. Consuming.

She had known it would be hard. The endless cycle of filming, promotions, interviews—she had prepared herself for it. But she hadn't prepared for this.

Hadn't prepared for the way Becky's silence would feel like a knife twisting in her chest.

She had sent everything she could—gifts, flowers, reminders that Becky was her world.

She pictured Becky sitting at home, alone. Surrounded by flowers, by gifts, by all the sweet tokens Freen kept sending to make up for her absence.But not her. Never her.

And suddenly, all of it felt ridiculous. What were these gestures compared to simply being there? What good were petals when you needed presence? What good were promises when the person you loved couldn't even feel you reaching?

A crack tore open inside her.

Because she had promised. "No matter where I go, I'll never let this love fade. I'll always choose you."

And yet, here she was. Sitting in a cold hotel room. Half a world away from where she should be.

The phone buzzed again, sharper this time. Another schedule. Another expectation.

Freen stared at the screen, her jaw tightening, her chest heaving as the weight of her choices crashed down. The walls of the suite were too quiet, too pristine, too far from everything that made her heart feel like home.

Freen stared at it for a moment before exhaling sharply.

Damn it

🎶 You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes

Sippin' coffee like you're on a late-night show

But then he watched me watch the front door all night

Willin' you to come

And he said: It's supposed to be fun

Turning twenty-one....🎶

P.S. I bet you don't wanna miss the next chapter..it's lengthy, it's healing and it's everything that gonna make you............ ;) So stay with me.