Where Have You Gone

Chapter 3️⃣5️⃣

Becky’s heart raced all morning, but now, on the drive home, it began to settle. The atmosphere in the car was thick with unspoken words; a tension hung in the air as they returned from a long day, and Becky sensed something off, something momentous brewing beneath the surface. But with Anne present, she decided to keep her questions to herself—for now.

As they arrived home, Irin whisked Anne away to the bathroom for a much-needed bath. This felt like the perfect moment for Becky to seek out Richie. Being twins, their emotions intertwined, and she was sure he would understand her unspoken worries.

When Becky knocked on Richie’s door, silence greeted her. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, calling out for him. No answer. Just as she was beginning to wonder if he was even in, she heard the faint sound of the door creaking open—there was Richie.

“Hey! I was looking for you, bro! Where were you?” Becky asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I went to your room, Bec,” Richie replied calmly.

“My room? Why would you do that? Were you looking for me as well?” Becky pressed, intrigued.

“No, I had something to take care of. You’ll find out when you go back,” Richie said, shrouded in mystery.

Becky felt a knot in her stomach. “I… I wanted to ask you something. Is everything okay? You and Irin seem off today. Is there something you’re hiding from me? Is everything alright with Anne's surgery?” her voice trembled with concern.

“Bec, relax. Everything is fine—us and with Anne’s surgery. But I need to talk to you about something—about your eye surgery,” Richie ventured, bracing himself for her reaction.

“Stop it, Richie! I’m just tired. Everything’s fine!” Becky snapped, threading past him toward her room and locking the door behind her.

Turning on the shower, the hot water cascaded over her, easing her tension but also dredging up painful memories. The last time Richie had broached the topic of eye surgery, he had exploded into a fierce argument that ended with him tearing down Sam’s cherished photo, the only photo of her with her eyes, from the wall—a photo that had always given Becky comfort.

Once the shower was over, she felt slightly lighter. Wrapping herself in a towel, she approached the wall, her fingers gliding over its surface. To her astonishment, smoothness greeted her touch; that corner of the wall held a familiar thin edge. Tears filled her eyes as clarity struck—Richie had returned the photo. Overcome, Becky pressed her forehead against the image, whispering, “Sam, I miss you. I love you. Why does this hurt so much? If I can’t see you again, then I don’t want to see anything at all.” Sobs shook her body as she cried uncontrollably. Unbeknownst to her, Irin stood hesitantly at the door, listening, her resolve strengthening about her upcoming meeting with Freen.

Becky, exhausted from crying, finally lay down in her bed, her eyes tracing the ceiling until sleep took her. Meanwhile, in the dim light of the balcony, Richie stood, brows furrowed, lost in thought.

“What did you do?” Irin sighed, facing him with concern.

“I did what I had to, Irin! I can’t stand to see her like this. She’s my sister, and with Freen back, it’s time Becky accepts the surgery,” Richie blurted out, feeling a mix of determination and anxiety.

“I know, honey. I’m going to meet Freen, like I said. We’ll make this right for them,” Irin reassured him, wrapping him in a warm hug.

As the clock ticked closer to her meeting with Freen, Richie took charge of babysitting Anne, while Irin readied herself. She stepped out, heading toward the posh cafe where Freen requested their meeting. Anticipation buzzed through her as she wondered how they would bridge the chasm that had grown between them.

The cafe, typically bustling, felt eerily quiet when she arrived. Spotting Bright near the entrance, she knew Freen was waiting inside. Irin entered with a warm smile, exchanging respectful bows with Bright, who guided her to a secluded garden where Freen sat, a picture of calm amidst the chaos.

For a fleeting moment, Irin was struck by Freen’s likeness to Sam dressed simply, she looked like the Sam who Becky adored, not the impressive facade of a CEO. The urge to connect overwhelmed Irin, and before she could think twice, she enveloped Freen in a heartfelt hug.

Surprised, Freen embraced her back, both women holding on tightly for a grounding five minutes; the embrace was filled with unspoken emotions and understanding.

Finally, they parted, and Freen began to speak, wanting to explain why she had distanced herself from Becky. But Irin gently interrupted her, “No, Freen, you don’t owe me anything.”

.“Please, Irin, let me speak! I owe everything to you. You’ve been there for Becky when I should have been,” Freen pleaded, her voice trembling with emotion. Irin saw the desperation in Freen’s eyes, the kind that only comes from carrying years of regret and unspoken pain. She nodded, silently granting Freen the space she needed to pour her heart out. Bright, standing quietly nearby, didn’t need to hear the words to feel the weight of their exchange. He saw it in the way Freen’s hands shook, her guilt palpable, crashing over her like relentless waves.

When Freen’s voice finally broke, Irin didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a firm embrace. “It’s okay,” Irin whispered, her tears falling freely. Freen broke down in her arms, the years of burden finally finding release. For that moment, nothing else mattered but the shared sorrow between two people bound by love for Becky.

The conversation stretched on, spanning nearly two hours as Irin recounted everything that had happened since Freen had left. Every detail, every choice, every struggle. And Freen listened, clinging to every word, her heartbreaking and mending all at once.

By the end of it, Freen felt a shift within herself—like a storm had finally passed, leaving room for a glimmer of hope. Irin reached out, taking Freen’s trembling hands on her own. Her voice was steady, but her words carried the weight of a sacred promise. “Take my word, Freen—Becky is yours. She always has been. And she always will be.”

Freen felt her breath hitch, the words like a balm to her fractured soul. It was as if the world, which had felt so heavy and uncertain, had finally steadied itself beneath her feet. She nodded, her heart swelling with the possibility of a second chance, of being there for Becky the way she always wanted to be.

Irin’s expression softened, her next words deliberate and filled with quiet conviction. “Freen, you’ll have to decide how you tell Becky the truth—that you’re Sam, and you’re back. Whether you reveal it now or wait until the moment feels right. But in return, I need you to promise me one thing.”

Freen leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “Anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Make her agree to the surgery,” Irin said, her voice breaking slightly. “She needs to see you again, Freen. She’s been waiting for you in ways you can’t even imagine. You’re the only one who can convince her—she longs for you more than anything.”

Tears welled up in Freen’s eyes, but she didn’t hesitate. She nodded, sealing her promise with quiet resolve. “I’ll do it, Irin. I’ll make her agree. I’ll do everything I can.”

Satisfied, Irin stood to leave, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. She looked back at Freen one last time, her voice filled with hope. “Becky deserves to have you back, Freen. And you deserve her too.”

As Irin walked away, Freen sat there, the warmth of Irin’s words still wrapped around her like a protective shield. She felt renewed—a part of her she thought was lost forever flickered back to life. And with it came determination. Her Becky was waiting for her. Finally, it is time.

Thank you

Merry Christmas Fam❄️✨