She is a Nightmare

Part 1: Lovely Couple

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the well-manicured lawns of the Adams' suburban neighborhood. Freen and Becky walked up the stone pathway leading to the front door of Becky's childhood home. It was the first time they were visiting since Becky had moved out to live with Freen, a decision that had not been met with approval by Becky's parents.

Becky's hand was wrapped tightly around Freen's as they approached the door, her grip tense and her pace hesitant. The familiar sight of the house, once a place of comfort, now brought a wave of unease. Freen noticed Becky's reluctance but didn't say a word. Instead, she simply squeezed Becky's hand reassuringly, maintaining her calm, composed demeanor.

The door opened before they could knock, and Richie stood there with a broad smile, trying to mask the tension that hung in the air. "Hey, you two! Glad you could make it," he greeted warmly, pulling Becky into a quick hug before turning to Freen.

"Good to see you, Freen," Richie said, his tone genuinely welcoming as he gave her a friendly hug. "How've you been?"

"Doing well, Richie. Thanks for having us," Freen replied, her voice smooth and pleasant. She handed him a neatly wrapped gift, offering a polite smile. "This is for your parents. A little something to show our appreciation."

Richie took the gift with a nod. "Thanks. Come on in."

As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately. The warmth of Richie's greeting faded into the background as the tension in the room became more palpable. Mr. and Mrs. Adams appeared in the hallway, their expressions guarded. Their eyes quickly fell on Becky and Freen's joined hands, and the disapproval in their gaze was unmistakable.

"Hello, Mom. Dad," Becky said quietly, her voice barely masking her nerves.

"Becky," Mrs. Adams acknowledged with a nod, her tone clipped. She glanced briefly at Freen, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Freen."

"Mr. and Mrs. Adams, it's nice to see you again," Freen said, her voice polite and measured. She stepped forward, offering the gift with a courteous smile. "I brought something for you both."

Mrs. Adams accepted the gift, her movements stiff. "Thank you," she said, but there was no warmth in her voice.

Mr. Adams stood silently, his expression stern as he looked at Freen. "You didn't have to do that," he muttered, his tone indicating that the gesture did little to improve his mood.

Richie, sensing the coldness from his parents, quickly stepped in. "Why don't we head to the dining room? Mom's been working on dinner all afternoon," he suggested, trying to diffuse the tension.

Becky nodded silently, avoiding her parents' eyes as she followed Richie toward the dining room. Freen walked beside her, her expression remaining calm and pleasant, showing no signs of being affected by the frosty reception.

The dining room was set with the family's finest china, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension that filled the space. Becky took a seat beside Freen, her hands resting in her lap as she stared at her plate, saying little. Freen pulled out her chair, then sat beside her, maintaining her poised demeanor.

Mrs. Adams served the food, her movements efficient but devoid of warmth. Mr. Adams took his seat at the head of the table, his eyes flicking between Becky and Freen with a disapproving gaze.

As dinner began, the conversation was sparse. Richie did his best to keep things light, asking Freen about her work and hobbies, clearly trying to make her feel welcome. Freen responded with polite enthusiasm, engaging with Richie while subtly avoiding any direct confrontation with Mr. and Mrs. Adams.

"So, Freen," Mrs. Adams finally spoke, her tone deliberately casual as she addressed Freen for the first time that evening. "How do you find living together?"

"It's been wonderful," Freen replied smoothly, smiling at Becky. "We've made a home that's comfortable for both of us."

Mr. Adams remained silent, but his stern expression deepened slightly, his disapproval clear.

Richie quickly jumped in, trying to steer the conversation away from the loaded topic. "Freen's really into design, Dad. She's been working on some cool projects. You should see her work."

"Is that so?" Mr. Adams responded, his tone indifferent.

Becky's silence grew heavier, her discomfort palpable as she remained focused on her food, hardly touching it. Freen noticed but continued to handle the situation with the same calm demeanor, refusing to let the underlying hostility from Becky's parents rattle her.

As dinner continued, the tension in the room never quite dissipated. The conversation remained polite but strained, with Richie doing most of the talking. Becky's parents kept their interactions with Freen minimal, their disapproval simmering just beneath the surface.

Becky shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes fixed on her plate as she pushed her food around with her fork. Freen noticed Becky's unease but continued to engage politely with her parents, refusing to let the subtle hostility dampen the evening.

Suddenly, in the middle of the meal, Becky accidentally knocked over her glass of water. The glass hit the table with a loud clatter and then shattered on the floor. Water splashed everywhere, soaking Freen's lap's little portion.

"Umm Sooo ooo ryyy" Becky exclaimed, quickly getting up to clean the mess.

Freen immediately knelt beside her, helping to pick up the broken pieces. "It's okay, don't worry about it," Freen said softly, brushing her hand against Becky's as she reached for a shard of glass.

As they cleaned up, Freen noticed a small cut on Becky's finger. Blood was slowly dripping from the wound. Without thinking, Freen grabbed Becky's hand and gently placed her finger in her mouth, trying to stop the bleeding.

Richie, who had been watching the whole scene unfold, couldn't help but grin. "Hey, lovebirds, maybe you should get a room," he teased, winking at them.

Becky blushed, pulling her hand away from Freen. "Richie, stop it," she mumbled, embarrassed.

Freen smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest despite the awkwardness of the situation. Once they finished cleaning up, they both returned to the dinner table. Becky's cut finger was still bothering her, so Freen took it upon herself to feed her. She carefully cut Becky's food and brought each bite to her lips, making sure she didn't strain her injured hand.

Becky's parents watched silently, their expressions unreadable. Richie, on the other hand, kept sneaking amused glances at his sister and Freen, clearly enjoying the way they doted on each other.

After dinner, Freen excused herself to go to the bathroom. As she stood up, Becky's mother, Mrs. Adams, finally spoke to her directly.

"Becky, go fetch Freen some dry clothes," she said, her tone firm but not unkind.

Becky nodded and quickly went to grab a spare set of clothes. Freen made her way to the bathroom, feeling the dampness of her clothes starting to get uncomfortable. She splashed some water on her face, taking a moment to gather herself.