The Unspoken Currents

A Glass Half Full

Becky woke up in her own bed, her head pounding, the remnants of a hangover clawing at her temples. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow as memories from the previous night flooded back. The bar. The drinking. The anger. And then Freen.

Becky groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as if that could block out the flood of humiliation that swept over her. She had let herself go too far—further than she had in a long time—and Freen had been the one to pick her up, to see her at her lowest. The thought made her stomach churn.

Dragging herself out of bed, Becky stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face in an attempt to wash away the grogginess. But nothing could wash away the reality of the situation—how Freen had seen her, vulnerable and messy, a far cry from the composed lawyer she was supposed to be. The image of Freen's worried eyes watching her as she struggled to stay upright flickered in her mind, and Becky's hands gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

"Dammit," she whispered to herself, her voice cracking in the empty bathroom. She hated this. Hated how much Freen still got under her skin, how much power she seemed to have, even after all these years. No matter how hard Becky tried to bury the past, it always found a way to claw itself back to the surface. And last night had been the proof of that.

She dried her face and walked back into her bedroom, the sunlight streaming through the curtains making her wince. She fumbled through her closet, pulling out the first clean suit she could find. She needed to get to the office. She needed to focus on work. That was the only thing that kept her grounded these days.

As she dressed, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. For a second, she considered ignoring it, but the persistent hum made her reach for it.

It was a message from Freen.

*You okay?*

Becky stared at the text, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should reply. She should thank Freen for helping her, for not leaving her passed out at some bar. But instead, the anger bubbled up again—the anger at Freen for being there, for seeing her like that, and most of all, for making her feel anything at all. She tossed her phone back on the bed without responding and grabbed her keys.

---

The office was quiet when Becky arrived, her steps echoing in the pristine hallways of Cravath & Armstrong. She headed straight for her office, ignoring the sympathetic glances from some of the junior associates who likely heard about her bar escapade. Rumors spread fast here, especially when you were the youngest partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in Thailand.

Once inside, she closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, willing herself to regain control. Her chest felt tight, her head still aching from the alcohol and the shame that weighed heavily on her.

She sat at her desk, trying to dive into the mountain of work waiting for her. The Nexis case was the biggest on her docket right now, and it demanded her full attention. But every time she tried to focus, her thoughts drifted back to Freen. The way she had looked at her last night—concerned, but calm. Like she wasn't surprised that Becky had fallen apart. Like she had expected it.

Becky slammed her fist down on her desk in frustration. She hated that look. She hated the way Freen could still see through her, no matter how hard she tried to hide behind the walls she'd built. It made her feel exposed, raw in a way that no one else could make her feel.

She needed to see Freen today for a follow-up meeting, but the thought made her stomach turn. She wasn't ready to face her, not after everything. But this was work. She could compartmentalize. She had to. This wasn't about them. It was about the case.