The Unspoken Currents

Threads Unraveling

Freen had lost track of how many times she'd visited Becky's apartment, only to be met with silence. The first time, she'd called and texted, leaving voicemails that grew more desperate as the days went on. But when it became clear that Becky wasn't going to answer, she had resorted to simply showing up, hoping to catch her by surprise.

The staff at Becky's building had started to recognize Freen, and with a bit of charm and persistence, she had convinced them that she was a close friend and business partner, someone Becky would want to see. They believed her, letting her up to Becky's penthouse again and again, even when all she found was an empty, echoing space.

Today, though, Freen had decided it would be her last attempt. She couldn't keep waiting for a response that might never come. She couldn't keep hoping that things could go back to the way they were. So she sat on Becky's living room floor, her back against the couch, trying to ignore the way the apartment smelled like Becky—faint hints of her perfume, the subtle scent of the sheets that still held traces of her.

As the afternoon stretched into evening, Freen checked her phone, scrolling through the messages she'd sent to Becky over the past few weeks. They were all still unanswered, and the weight of that silence pressed down on her. Her eyes drifted to the door, her thoughts a tangled mess.

Maybe she just needs space, Freen told herself for the hundredth time. Maybe she'll come around when she's ready.

But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. The silence felt like a wall—thick, impenetrable. And deep down, Freen couldn't shake the fear that she had ruined everything.

She rested her head against the armrest, closing her eyes, trying to hold on to the memories of what they'd had before things got so complicated. The easy conversations, the shared lunches, the way they'd started to let their guard down around each other again. But those memories only made the ache in her chest worse.

Maybe coming here today had been a mistake. Maybe it was time to give up and let go.

The sound of the elevator doors opening jolted Freen from her thoughts. She straightened up, her heart leaping in her chest as she heard footsteps approaching. A moment later, the door swung open, and Becky stepped inside, her expression weary and distant—until she saw Freen sitting there.

Becky froze in the doorway, her keys slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Freen scrambled to her feet, trying to hide the nervous tremor in her hands.

"Freen... what are you doing here?" Becky's voice was barely more than a whisper, her eyes wide with confusion.

Freen shifted awkwardly, running a hand through her hair. "I've been trying to reach you. I thought... I thought maybe we could talk."

Becky's jaw tightened, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I changed my number. I needed... I needed some space."

Freen nodded slowly, trying to keep the hurt from showing on her face. "Yeah, I figured that out." She let out a shaky breath, forcing herself to smile. "But I guess I just wasn't ready to let go. Not yet."

Becky's eyes flicked back to Freen, and for a moment, there was a flash of something raw in her expression—something that made Freen's heart twist. But then she turned away, moving further into the apartment as she kicked off her shoes. "You shouldn't have come here, Freen. There's nothing left to talk about."

Freen took a step closer, her voice soft but insistent. "I just want to know what happened, Becky. After that night, you disappeared. You blocked my number. You won't even look at me. Was it because of...?"