Freen POV
Freen watches them, his heart sinking. He knows Engfa so well, knows the way he eyes light up when he's with someone he cares about. He knows the way he leans in, the way he touches their arm. He knows that look.
Freen: (to himself) It's just a friend. It's nothing.
But the words ring hollow. He can't shake the feeling of jealousy gnawing at him. He watches them, his gaze lingering on Becky's smile.
Becky: (laughing) You're so silly!
Engfa shakes his head, a playful smile on his face. They continue their conversation, oblivious to Freen's watchful eyes.
Freen takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He forces a smile, but it feels strained. He stands up, his coffee forgotten.
Freen: (to himself) I need to get out of here.
He walks out of the cafe, He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to deal with these feelings.
Freen: (to himself) I need to talk to her.
BAR - NIGHT
The bar is dimly lit, pulsating with music and the chatter of patrons. Freen sits alone at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid swirls in his glass, reflecting the neon lights that bathe the room in a hazy glow. He stares into the glass, lost in thought.
He can't stop replaying the scene from the cafe in his mind. Becky's s laughter, the way she leaned into Engfa, the way her eyes sparkled. It all feels like a betrayal, a knife twisting in his gut.
BARKEEPER: (approaching) Another one, sir?
Freen nods, barely registering the question. He downs the whiskey in one gulp, the burn a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest.
Freen: (murmuring) Just another one.
The bartender pours him another drink, placing it down with a sigh. He knows the look, the way a man's eyes glaze over, the way his shoulders slump. He's seen it a thousand times before.
Freen takes a sip, the alcohol doing little to numb the pain. He watches the other patrons, their laughter and conversation a stark contrast to his own solitude.
Freen: (to himself) She's just a friend. It's nothing.
But the words feel hollow. He can't convince himself. He knows Engfa too well, knows the way he looks at someone she cares about. He knows the way he leans in, the way he touches their arm.
He takes another long gulp, the whiskey burning a path down his throat. He closes his eyes, trying to shut out the noise, the pain, the memories.
Freen: (to himself) I need to get out of here.
He slams his glass down on the counter, the sound echoing in the quiet bar. He stands up, his legs shaky.
Freen: (to the bartender) Check please.
He throws a few bills on the counter and walks out, the cool night air hitting him like a slap. He stumbles down the street, the neon lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of
colors.
HIGHWAY - NIGHT
Rain lashes down, blurring the headlights of cars speeding along the highway. Freen grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale. He’s driving recklessly, the world a blur of lights and rain.
He’s lost in his thoughts, replaying the scene from the cafe, the image of Engfa laughing with Becky, the feeling of betrayal burning in his chest. The whiskey he’d consumed earlier has worn off, leaving him with a throbbing headache and a gnawing emptiness.
Freen: (to himself) I can’t think straight. I need to get out of here.
He speeds up, ignoring the warning signs flashing by. He’s not thinking clearly, his mind clouded with pain and anger.
Suddenly, a car swerves in front of him, its headlights blinding him momentarily. He slams on the brakes, but it’s too late.
CRASH!
The world spins. Metal screeches. Glass shatters. Freen’s head slams against the steering wheel, his vision going black.
Charlotte POV
Charlotte sits on the couch, flipping through channels on her TV. She’s dressed in a comfortable sweater and sweatpants, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She looks tired, but her expression is calm.
She stops on a news channel, the anchorman’s voice filling the room.
NEWS ANCHOR
(on TV)
…and now for a breaking news update. Earlier this evening, a serious car accident occurred on Highway 1, involving a single vehicle/Sports car. The driver, believed to be the top CEO Freen, is in critical condition.
Charlotte freezes, her eyes widening in disbelief. She leans forward, her gaze fixed on the screen.
NEWS REPORTER (on TV)
(voiceover)
Paramedics were able to extract Freen from the wreckage and transport him to the nearest hospital. He is currently undergoing emergency surgery.
A picture of Freen, his face bruised and pale, flashes on the screen. Charlotte’s heart clenches. She can’t believe what she’s seeing.
Charlotte: (to herself) Freen?
She remembers their tumultuous relationship, the fights, the tears, the eventual divorce. They’d been through a lot, but she still cared about him.
NEWS ANCHOR (on TV)
(voiceover)
We will continue to follow this story and bring you updates as they become available.
Charlotte turns off the TV, her mind racing. She can’t shake the image of Freen, injured and vulnerable. A wave of concern washes over her.
Charlotte: (to herself) I need to go see him.
She stands up, her movements slow and deliberate. She grabs her coat and heads out the door, her mind filled with a mix of worry and a strange sense of urgency.
