How to be loved

67 - Demands

How to be loved

67 – Demands

Freen's POV

"Do you want to eat first before heading to the penthouse?" I asked Becky, my voice steady, casual.

The car rolled smoothly down the quiet road, the glow of streetlights flashing intermittently across the windshield. It had been only a few minutes since we left her family's mansion, and the earlier tension was starting to fade into the background. Still, something lingered in my chest, like the faint sting of a paper cut—small, but hard to ignore.

Becky had been keeping me in the dark lately, and while I wasn't one to demand full transparency, this felt... different. Bigger. It wasn't just her personal drama; it was the kind of thing that rippled into our relationship too. And yet, she'd chosen to handle it alone. I told myself I wasn't upset—just a little miffed. Sulking, really.

"I'd rather eat at the penthouse," Becky replied, her tone light and easy. She shifted in her seat, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "Let's just order in, babe."

Her smile was quick and breezy, and she turned her attention to the window, gazing out as though the world outside was suddenly full of possibilities. She was glowing, practically buzzing with the energy of someone who'd just wrestled control of her life and come out victorious. I couldn't fault her for that.

"Alright," I said with a nod, keeping my tone neutral. "Penthouse it is."

I focused on the road, but my mind drifted. I wasn't angry, not really. This wasn't the kind of thing that would spark a fight or even a serious conversation. It was more like a small, nagging thought in the back of my head. I was happy for her—proud of her, even. Watching her stand up to her family and claim her freedom had been incredible. But it was hard not to feel a little sidelined.

"You okay?" Becky asked suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I glanced over, startled. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"You're quiet," she said, tilting her head as if to study me. Her expression was soft, curious.

I smiled, brushing it off. "Just thinking. Long day, you know?"

"Tell me about it," she said with a laugh, leaning back in her seat. "I feel like I just ran a marathon. But, oh my God, doesn't it feel good to finally breathe?"

"It does," I said, and I meant it—for her, at least.

She turned her gaze back to the window, and I let the moment settle. Maybe I was being silly. Not everything had to be a shared ordeal, right? This was her moment, and she deserved to revel in it.

Still, as the city lights grew brighter in the distance, I couldn't help hoping that next time—whatever it might be—she'd let me share a little more of the load.

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Becky's POV

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was quiet, but not the comfortable kind of quiet. Freen stood beside me, her hands in her pockets, her eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the door as they counted up. She'd said she was just tired, and maybe she was—but something felt... off.

I leaned back against the elevator wall, stealing a glance at her. Usually, she'd make a little joke to lighten the mood, or at least nudge me playfully when she noticed I was lost in my thoughts. Tonight, though, she seemed distant.

The elevator chimed softly,and the doors slid open to reveal the sleek, familiar interior of thepenthouse. It penthouse felt quieter than usual, despite the hum of the city outside. I watched Freen move around the living room, barely noticing her usual routines.