How to be loved

35 - Out of control

HOW TO BE LOVED

35 – Out of control

Becky's POV

Freen's question, "Can I dare to love you?" keeps echoing in my mind as I watch her twirl on the dance floor with Nita, one of the creative directors of London Fashion Week. It's the fashion gala, on the third day of the event, and seeing them together makes my heart flutter and ache all at once.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to ask her to be my girlfriend right then and there, to finally make us official. But I got too nervous. I kept telling myself it would be cuter if I waited for the perfect moment, that it would feel more special. But now, I'm kicking myself for not saying it sooner. I wish I could just walk over and hold her close, letting everyone know she's mine. Instead, I'm stuck here, watching Nita dance with her in that annoyingly slow, way-too-close-for-comfort way.

My jealousy is bubbling up, and I know it's all because I was too shy to say what I really wanted. If only I had been a little braver, maybe I'd be the one in her arms right now.

What makes it worse is that Freen seems to be enjoying it. She's resting her head on Nita's shoulder, and that sight alone makes my heart squeeze in the worst way. Before I know it, I slam my glass onto the table a little too hard.

"Ohhhh, someone's angry," Irin teases with a playful smirk. She came to London with me, eager to help and "witness" Freen and I's love story unfold in real life. But now, I'm starting to wonder if that story will even happen.

I turn to her with a weak smile, trying to hide how much this is bothering me. "I'm not angry," I lie, but even I don't believe it.

"Maybe not angry. But you're totally jealous," Irin says, nudging me with her elbow. "Why don't you just go over there and steal her back? You know you want to."

I sigh, glancing back at Freen. She laughs at something Nita says, and my heart twists painfully. "It's not that simple, Irin."

"It is that simple," she insists, her tone softer now. "You're just making it complicated. If you want her, go get her. Don't let fear stop you."

I know she's right. I'm just scared—scared of rejection, scared of ruining what we already have, scared of what might happen if I actually take that step. But as I watch Freen dance, I realize that losing her to someone else is even scarier.

I take a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to move. But I can't. I just stand there, frozen, as the scene between Freen and Nita gets even more intense. Their foreheads touch, and a pang shoots through my chest. Then, as if to make it even worse, Nita lifts Freen's hands to her lips and kisses them gently.

A storm of emotions crashes over me—jealousy, regret, fear—swirling together so fast I can barely keep up. My heart is screaming at me to do something, to step in and show that Freen is mine, but my feet won't budge. I just stand there, feeling more helpless than ever.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All I can see is Freen and Nita, and all I can feel is the aching realization that I let this happen. I held back, waiting for the perfect moment, and now I'm watching it slip away right in front of me.

I drowned myself in alcohol, hoping to numb the pain clawing at my chest, but each sip only made the image of Freen and Nita dancing together more vivid, more painful. The room around me started to blur, the laughter and music becoming distant echoes as I tried to push away the jealousy and heartache threatening to overwhelm me.

My assistant was at the gala too, quietly observing from the sidelines. I stumbled over to her, my steps unsteady and my heart heavier than ever. "Make sure Freen gets home safe," I mumbled, my voice thick with emotion. "Don't let anything happen to her. Please."