Shadows of Revenge

40. The Gentle Pursuit of Love

Freen stood outside Becky’s condo, staring at the door that seemed like an insurmountable barrier between them. She had been coming here every day since their last conversation, each time with the hope that Becky might let her in, that maybe today would be the day Becky spoke again. But Becky had remained distant, her silence louder than words, and it weighed heavily on Freen’s heart.

She had hurt Becky deeply—more than she had realized at first—and now it seemed like forgiveness was far out of reach. Freen had always been strong, the one who held her emotions tightly under control. But this was different. This was Becky, the person she didn’t just love, but needed. So, Freen did the only thing she could. She waited. And she tried.

Inside, Becky sat by the window, the soft morning light spilling into the small condo that had been her sanctuary for the past year. This was the place she had come to heal, to hide from the world, to protect herself from further pain. But now Freen was here, and Becky couldn’t ignore her presence, no matter how much she wanted to. Freen’s intrusion into her quiet world wasn’t loud or dramatic, but it was persistent.

Freen wasn’t the kind to grandstand. There were no over-the-top gestures or tear-filled pleas for forgiveness. Instead, it was the small things—things that spoke volumes without needing words—that started to break through the walls Becky had built around her heart.

One afternoon, Becky came home to find a small bouquet of daisies outside her door, carefully placed in a simple vase. Daisies, the flowers she loved for their simplicity and innocence, reminded her of a time when life wasn’t so complicated. There was no note, no explanation—just the flowers, left as a quiet offering of care.

At first, Becky left them outside, unwilling to acknowledge the gesture. She wasn’t ready to let Freen in, not yet. But after a few days, she found herself bringing the flowers inside. Their delicate scent filled the air, and each time she looked at them, she thought of Freen. It wasn’t much, but it was something—something that made her question whether she should keep pushing Freen away.

Then came the other small acts. One evening, Freen left a box of Becky’s favorite tea on her doorstep, knowing how much she loved to unwind with a warm cup in the evening. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that Freen didn’t mention, but Becky knew exactly who had left it. Another day, Freen left a soft, folded blanket—one Becky used to curl up in during their movie nights together. It was familiar, and the comfort it brought stirred something deep inside her, something she had tried to suppress for so long.

Freen’s gestures weren’t grand, but they were filled with meaning. Each act of care reminded Becky of the love they once shared, the love Freen was trying to show again, bit by bit. It was as if Freen understood her better than anyone else—as if she knew that Becky needed time, space, and gentleness, but also needed to see that she was still cared for.

Freen, for her part, was filled with anxiety. Every day she came, every small thing she did, she questioned whether it was enough. Was Becky noticing? Did it matter to her? Freen wanted to hold her again, to tell her that things would be different this time, that she would never hurt her again. But she knew she had no right to ask for that yet.

So, she settled for what she could do. She left a note one evening. It was short and simple, just three words: “I miss you.” There were no apologies, no desperate attempts to win Becky back—just the truth, written plainly, in the hope that Becky would understand. Freen imagined Becky reading it, imagined the hurt in her eyes, and wondered if she was making things worse. But every time she thought about the pain in Becky’s face when she first saw her, she knew she couldn’t stop trying.

Becky found herself thinking about Freen more and more, despite her efforts to stay distant. Each gesture tugged at her heart, pulling her back to memories of when things were good, before everything fell apart. She hadn’t responded to Freen’s acts directly, but she couldn’t deny the effect they were having on her.

The note stayed with her the most. “I miss you.” It was simple, yet it carried so much weight. Did Freen truly miss her, or was this just another way to ease her guilt? Becky didn’t know, but the sincerity in Freen’s actions made it hard to stay angry.

Freen wasn’t forcing anything. She wasn’t asking for Becky’s forgiveness or pushing her to move faster than she was ready. She was just... there. Always waiting, always patient, always hoping. And Becky couldn’t deny that it was starting to make her feel something again.

One evening, Becky finally opened the door. Freen stood on the other side, her expression filled with cautious hope. For the first time in weeks, Becky let her in—not into her home, but into her presence. She didn’t speak, and she didn’t invite Freen inside. She just stood there, allowing the silence between them to say what words couldn’t.

Freen smiled, a soft, tentative smile. “I just wanted to see you,” she said gently. “I know I’ve been talking a lot, but... I wish you would talk to me. Say something. Anything.”

Becky stood frozen, her heart aching with the weight of everything she wanted to say but couldn’t. She had been silent for so long that it felt like she had forgotten how to speak. The words were stuck somewhere deep inside her, tangled up with the hurt and confusion that still lingered.

Freen’s smile faltered for a moment, and in that brief second, Becky saw the vulnerability in her—the fear that maybe this time, she had lost Becky for good. But Freen didn’t push. She didn’t demand anything. She simply nodded, as if understanding what Becky couldn’t say.

“I’ll wait,” Freen whispered. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

With that, Freen turned and walked away, leaving Becky standing in the doorway, her heart heavy but no longer closed off. The silence between them wasn’t empty anymore—it was full of unspoken words and emotions that would come in time.

And as Becky watched Freen disappear into the night, she knew that one day, she would find the strength to speak those words. But for now, she would let the silence say what neither of them could.

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