The drawing room was a cozy mix of warmth and whimsy, with sunlight streaming through lace curtains, dancing over the colorful fish tank that sat in the corner. The soft gurgling of water created a tranquil backdrop to the chatter that filled the room. Freen sat on the edge of the plush sofa, her eyes transfixed on the aquarium, where vibrant fish darted between coral ornaments.
Becky was sprawled on a nearby armchair, her legs slung over one of the arms as she fiddled with a decorative pillow. Her mother sat across from them, sipping tea and telling a story about how Becky once tried to catch a fish with her bare hands as a child.
“I wasn’t trying to catch it,” Becky interrupted, her tone defensive but her smirk giving her away. “I was just...testing the water temperature.”
“Sure, dear,” her mother replied, laughing.
Freen chuckled softly, her hand pressed over her mouth to stifle the sound. Watching them interact was a strange kind of comfort—so different from the harsh silence and sharp words she was used to.
Becky noticed the hint of amusement in Freen’s eyes and narrowed her gaze. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” Freen said, her tone playful as she returned her attention to the aquarium.
“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today,” Becky teased, tossing the pillow lightly in Freen’s direction. It missed her by inches, landing harmlessly on the floor.
Freen shook her head with a small smile. “You’re impossible.”
---
As Becky’s mother excused herself to check on the cake in the kitchen, Freen glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late. A nervous energy began to creep in, a subtle reminder of the ticking clock and the unspoken rules of her home.
“Becky,” Freen said softly, her tone carrying a hint of urgency.
“Hmm?” Becky responded, barely looking up from the pillow she was now flipping between her hands.
“I really should go now,” Freen said, glancing toward the doorway as if the act of leaving would summon courage.
Becky groaned, sitting up straighter. “You’ve been saying that for the last hour. Relax. You’re fine.”
“I’m serious,” Freen said, turning to look at her. “I need to go.”
Becky raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I’m serious when I say you’re not leaving yet.”
Freen sighed, exasperated. “Fine. I’ll just go by myself then.”
She stood abruptly, feigning resolve, and took a few steps toward the door.
“Oh, come on,” Becky called after her, rolling her eyes but smirking. She tossed the pillow aside and got up to follow. “You’re so dramatic.”
Freen turned her head just enough to catch Becky’s teasing grin. Despite her frustration, a tiny smile tugged at her own lips.
As they walked through the house toward the front door, Becky’s mother called out from the kitchen, “Leaving already, Freen? You’re welcome anytime, dear!”
“Thank you,” Freen replied, her voice genuinely grateful. She paused at the door, looking back at Becky’s mother. “And thank you for everything today. It was…nice.”
Becky’s mother smiled warmly. “You take care, sweetheart.”
---
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the street as Becky and Freen stepped outside. The air was cool and refreshing, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers.
“You really couldn’t stay for ten more minutes?” Becky asked, her tone laced with mock annoyance.
Freen shook her head. “I don’t think you understand how risky this was for me already.”
Becky fell silent for a moment, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets as they walked side by side. She could sense the underlying tension in Freen’s words but chose not to press it. Instead, she nudged Freen lightly with her elbow.
“You’re braver than you think, you know,” Becky said, her voice softer now.
Freen looked at her, surprised by the sudden sincerity. “I don’t feel brave.”
Becky shrugged. “Maybe not. But you came out anyway.”
Freen didn’t respond, but a small smile broke through her guarded expression.
---
As they approached Freen’s house, the warm glow that had been building throughout the day began to dim. The sight of the familiar door brought a weight back to her chest, and her steps grew slower.
Becky noticed, her sharp eyes catching the subtle shift in Freen’s demeanor. “Hey,” she said, stopping a few feet away from the house.
Freen turned to face her, her expression guarded.
“What’s wrong?” Becky asked, her tone casual but curious.
“Nothing,” Freen said quickly, avoiding her gaze. “I just need to get inside before—” She stopped herself, realizing she didn’t want to finish that sentence.
Becky frowned, studying her carefully. “Before what?”
“Nothing,” Freen repeated, shaking her head. “Thank you for today, Becky. Really.”
Becky hesitated, clearly unsatisfied with the vague answer, but she didn’t push further. “Alright,” she said, stepping back. “Go on, then.”
Freen nodded, turning to the door. But just before she stepped inside, she glanced back at Becky one last time. There was something in that look—something that made Becky pause.
It wasn’t just a goodbye. It was a plea, a flicker of vulnerability that Becky hadn’t seen before.
Becky stayed rooted to the spot, watching as Freen disappeared into the house. She stood there for a moment longer, the faint echo of Freen’s expression lingering in her mind.
Finally, she shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Get a grip, Becky.”
She slipped her headphones over her ears, letting the music drown out her thoughts as she turned and walked away.
---
On her way home, Becky ran into Nam and Kate near the corner of the street. The two older girls were laughing about something, their energy boisterous and teasing as always.
“Look who it is!” Nam called out, grinning.
Kate smirked. “Finally done babysitting?”
Becky rolled her eyes. “Leave her alone.”
Nam and Kate exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Oh, protective now, are we?” Kate teased.
“Just don’t be annoying,” Becky said firmly, brushing past them.
The two girls watched her go, their laughter following her down the street. Becky ignored them, focusing on the music blaring in her ears.
But even as she walked away, her thoughts drifted back to Freen—and that fleeting look of desperation she couldn’t quite shake.
YOU ARE READING
A Gentle Collision
ActionBecky is an 18-year-old introvert whose sharp words cut deeper than her silence. Living with her kind-hearted mother in a modest home supported by their family's restaurant, Becky has little interest in the world beyond her headphones and mobile scr...
