Chapter 10: Lost in Translation

The days that followed felt like a slow, deliberate kind of heartbreak. Not the sharp, sudden kind.But the aching, dragging, every-hour-heavier kind—the one that creeps in silently and settles in your bones.

Their goodbye hadn't been dramatic. It had been soft—full of tender kisses, long embraces, whispered promises like "We'll be okay" and "I'll call you every night."And for a while, they meant it. With their whole hearts, they meant it.They thought love would be enough. That trying would be enough.

And they did try.God, they fought for each other in the small spaces between chaos.

Between back-to-back meetings and midnight script readings, Freen would record sleepy voice notes for Becky—mumbling about how much she missed her, her words slurring as exhaustion tugged at her.And Becky, buried under assignments, court rehearsals, and that never-ending attorney grind, would still find time to send her selfies with sleepy eyes and crooked smiles, holding up cups of coffee with captions like "Wish you were here to make this for me."

They clung to the routine like a lifeline.A good morning text. A lunch break update. A silly meme. A voice note saying I love you, I miss you, just five more days till we see each other again.

But time...Time didn't slow down for them.And life didn't stop testing them.

Little by little, the cracks began to show.

A missed call here. A forgotten reply there."I'm sorry, I fell asleep.""I had a shoot run late.""Can I call you tomorrow?"

And tomorrow didn't come.

The effort was still there—but buried under fatigue, deadlines, and the silent guilt of not being able to give what they promised.They were still trying... But the trying started to feel like reaching across a widening ocean.

And that's when the doubt crept in.Not in loud arguments, but in quiet moments—when Becky stared at her phone, rereading old messages just to feel close again.When Freen would open their chat, type something, then delete it. Again and again.Too tired to say the right thing. Too afraid to say the wrong one.

Then came the silences—longer than they'd ever allowed before.

Not empty. Just... full of unspoken questions.

The love was still there.But the world had grown too loud, and somewhere along the way, their voices had gotten lost in the noise.

Becky never wanted distractions.

She was fine with just Freen. Even if their love existed in stolen moments, in voice notes played at the end of an exhausting day, in texts that carried more longing than actual words—she was fine.

She had learned to cherish the silence between their messages, to hold onto the reassurance that even in absence, they still belonged to each other.

But loneliness had a way of creeping in, slipping through the cracks when she wasn't paying attention.

And Nop—he was one of those cracks.

She never encouraged him, never sought his attention, but he was always there. He showed up when she was buried under deadlines, appearing with coffee in hand and a lopsided grin. He lingered after meetings, asking if she had eaten, if she was sleeping well. When exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders, he brought her flowers, little notes attached with "Just a little something to brighten your day."

It wasn't romantic—not for Becky.

She made it painfully clear that her heart already belonged to someone.

And Nop never pushed.

He never said anything inappropriate, never confessed feelings that would force Becky to put distance between them. He stayed on the fine line of just a friend, but his actions spoke differently.

And maybe—just maybe—Becky let it slide because she was lonely and he was being a nice friend.

Becky let it slide Because Freen wasn't here.

Because the only trace of Freen she had were texts that were growing shorter, voice notes that came less frequently, and missed calls that neither of them had time to return.

So Becky let it happen.

She let the flowers sit on her desk instead of throwing them away.She let Nop pull her into casual side hugs when he was feeling particularly playful But still maintaining defining distance. She let his laughter fill the silence that Freen's absence left.She let his presence dull the ache of missing Freen, even if only for a second.

Because what else was she supposed to do?

She didn't want to admit it, but she was growing tired. Tired of convincing herself that everything was fine when it wasn't.

Tired of defending her love when the person she loved wasn't there to hold her through it.

So she let herself be distracted—not from Freen, but from the overwhelming weight of her workload, even if just for a little while. Nop was a good distraction for becky—not to replace Freen or take her place in Becky's life, but simply to help her get through the exhausting grind of each workday.

______Freen had always known the industry was cutthroat. She had seen it play its cruel games with others—twisting truths, building illusions, and destroying lives all in the name of entertainment. But she had never expected to be trapped in its web like this, to feel so helpless as it sank its claws into the one thing she swore to protect—her love with Becky.

The rumors had started subtly. A few murmurs here and there about her and her co-star Edward, nothing more than speculative gossip. At first, it had been laughable—background noise she barely paid attention to. But then came the photos.

Blurry at first, taken from angles meant to deceive—her and Edward laughing a little too comfortably, walking side by side after late-night meetings, leaning in to whisper something on set.

Freen had seen them, rolled her eyes, and brushed them off. But the media wasn't done.

"Freen and her co-star spotted on a hidden date." "Cozy interactions hint at something more." "Late-night rendezvous captured—romance confirmed?"

And just like that, a storm she couldn't control had begun.

At first, Becky had ignored it. She had faith in Freen. She knew the truth. But as days passed and more 'evidence' surfaced—more misleading pictures, more articles fueling the speculation—the doubt started to creep in.

Freen had wanted to shut it down immediately, to clear Becky's name from the silent suffering she knew she must be enduring. But her management had been firm.

"This is good for the movie." "Addressing it will only make it worse." "Stay silent, and let them believe what they want."

Freen had fought. She had argued. But the industry didn't care about love—it only cared about profit.

So she stayed quiet.

And the rumors grew.And the lies spread.

And Becky, sitting miles away, scrolling through endless news articles and social media threads, felt something inside her start to crack.

She wasn't naïve. She knew how the industry worked. But it was the silence that hurt the most.

The girl she loved, the one who had promised her a love that wouldn't change, had suddenly become a stranger on her screen. Distant. Unreachable.

And for the first time, Becky wondered if she had been foolish to believe they could make it through this storm unscathed.____At first, neither of them wanted to admit it.

The silence. The weight of it. The way it stretched between them like an invisible force pulling them apart inch by inch.

It wasn't sudden. It never is.

It started with a missed call here and there—one too busy, the other too exhausted. Then, text messages that once carried warmth, longing, and playful banter became simple updates: "Just wrapped filming." "Heading to sleep, long day." "Eat something, don't skip meals."

The same words, the same affection, but something was missing. The depth. The feeling.

The them in it.

Freen told herself it was just the schedule, just the stress of work. But deep down, she knew it was more than that.

She knew it when she started checking Becky's social media more than she should, where Nop's social profile was always in the recommendation tab, so Freen stalks into his public profile and her stomach was twisting every time she saw another post, another story, another picture of Becky and Nop.

Nop, who was always there.Nop, who Becky had said was just a friend.Nop, who made Becky smile—smiles that Freen wasn't sure were just for show anymore.Every scroll brought a new photo, a new video, a new story.Always the same—bright lighting, loud laughter, Becky smiling in the background while Nop grinned into the camera like he belonged there.Like he was the one giving her happiness Freen could no longer reach.

Her stomach twisted.She told herself it was stupid.That Becky had said he was just a friend.That Becky loved her.That nothing had changed.

But then... why did it feel like everything had?

Freen shut her phone off, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling.Not with anger.With fear.

Because the ache wasn't just jealousy—it was grief.The kind you feel before the heartbreak even happens.

And maybe Becky wasn't doing anything wrong. Maybe she was just allowing herself a moment of distraction, a moment of peace in the chaos of work. But Freen hated that it wasn't her who was giving Becky that peace.And in that quiet room, under the weight of her thoughts, Freen realized,  this wasn't just about Nop. It was about the slow unraveling.

About watching the person you love drift... and not knowing how to pull them back.And Becky—

Becky was drowning in her own quiet storm.Not the kind that raged loudly with thunder and chaos, but the kind that built slowly.The kind that whispered doubt in the stillness, that soaked her bones with questions she didn't want to ask.

She told herself the rumors were nothing. Just noise. Just the world doing what it always does—twisting stories, painting illusions. She knew Freen. She loved Freen. She believed in the person behind the spotlight, behind the headlines, behind the curated smiles.

But how long can love survive a war waged in silence?

Because everywhere she turned—every swipe, every scroll—there they were. Pictures of Freen with her co-star. Laughter caught mid-frame. Stolen glances frozen in time. A hand too close. A smile too soft. A gaze too long.

Becky tried not to look. Tried not to think. But they followed her like shadows—images she wasn't there to witness, moments she couldn't explain away.

And the worst part?

They looked real.

Not because she didn't trust Freen. But because she did.And trusting someone doesn't stop the ache when the world keeps whispering they've already left you.

She wanted to believe. She did believe.

But belief wavers when it's met with silence.

And lately, Freen's silence was deafening.Becky kept reaching out, even when it hurt.But trust— trust is a fragile thing. It needs to be held.Protected.Nurtured.

And Becky couldn't keep holding on alone.

She felt it in her chest—that aching, cracking space where certainty used to live.She still loved Freen with everything she had.But love, when unanswered, begins to sound a lot like goodbye.

And in the quiet of her room, with her phone screen glowing with another photo she didn't ask to see, Becky let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She blinked once. Twice.But the tears still fell.

Because it wasn't the rumors that hurt the most.

It was the fact that Freen didn't even notice she was breaking._____________

The calls became less frequent. The texts grew shorter. Workload and schedules became a convenient excuse.

"Miss you." "I love you." "Take care."

They said the words. They meant the words. But they felt hollow now.

Because love wasn't just in the saying. It was in the feeling. And Becky wasn't sure if she still felt it in Freen's voice the way she used to.

And Freen wasn't sure if Becky still believed it the way she once did.

And so, night after night, they lay in separate beds, in separate worlds, staring at their phones—messages left unread, calls left unsaid, and an ache in their chests that neither of them could put into words.

Because the only thing left between them was silence.And the terrifying feeling that maybe, just maybe, love wasn't enough to stop it.

🎶 Well, maybe we got lost in translationMaybe I asked for too muchBut maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all upRunnin' scared, I was thereI remember it all too well..... 🎶