The two women sat beside Saroj, Freen holding her mother's hand with both of hers.
Becky noticed... how Freen's eyes avoided the bandages on Saroj's head.
How her fingers trembled.
How guilt crawled through her expression.
"Babe," Rebecca finally whispered, "none of this was your fault."
Freen didn't look at her.
Instead, she stared at her mother — at the quiet rise and fall of Saroj's chest.
"Someone was following me," Freen finally said under her breath. "If Mom didn't—"
Her voice cracked. "She took the hit for me, Becky."
Rebecca's heart clenched.
Before she could respond, Saroj shifted slightly, eyes still closed but her lips moving.
"...not... his... fault..."
Both women's eyes widened.
Freen leaned in. "Mom? What did you say?"
Saroj's voice was faint — but clear enough:
"Not... truck.
Someone... meant... to hurt you."
The room froze.
Becky's breath hitched. "Wait— someone targeted her?"
Saroj nodded weakly. "Francis... knows..."
Freen felt her blood turn cold.
Her father?
Her father — who disappeared.
Her father — who hurt her.
Her father — who had reasons to hate her.
The silence stretched thick, heavy, suffocating.
Then suddenly —
THUD.
Something fell outside the VIP hallway.
A sharp, metal sound.
Like someone dropping equipment — or like someone trying to run.
Rebecca flinched. Freen immediately stood, eyes narrowed, protective instincts rising. She turned to Becky urgently:
"Stay with my mother."
"Freen—"
"Please, hon."
Her tone cracked. Soft, yet begging. Becky nodded reluctantly.
Freen stepped outside.
The hallway was empty.
Too empty.
Too quiet.
YOU ARE READING
Stuck with YOU || BECKFREEN/FREENBECK STORY
RomanceSarocha Chankimha, only daughter of Francis Chankimha. The Father who seemed to be abusive? While Rebecca Patricia Armstrong had a perfect life, being so "Princess-syy" and all. But got arranged at a marriage. Will they be destined to ever se...
