Stuck with YOU || BECKFREEN/FREENBECK STORY

Chapter 54

"Author's POV"

The hallway outside the VIP room was unusually quiet—too quiet for a hospital that usually buzzed with nurses, doctors, and soft chatter even in late hours. Freen stepped out, closing the door gently behind her. The soft click echoed through the corridor, making the silence feel heavier.

Her eyes scanned the hallway.
Left.
Right.
Nothing.

But she heard something.
She knew she heard something.

Her heartbeat thumped loud enough to drown out the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Freen tightened her jaw, inhaling deeply, forcing herself to think logically instead of letting her fear spiral.

She walked slowly down the hallway, heels clicking against the polished floor, each step cautious and controlled. Freen didn't run. Running meant fear. Running meant vulnerability. And she refused to let whoever—or whatever—was messing with her see that she was scared.

Halfway down the corridor, she stopped.

Because something felt... off.

A cleaning cart was left abandoned beside a supply closet, its wheels slightly turned as if someone had pushed it in a hurry. A mop lay on the ground, the handle rolling gently as though recently dropped.

Freen crouched down and lifted the mop handle. Warm.
Still warm.

Someone was here less than a minute ago.

She stood and moved closer to the supply closet. The door was slightly ajar—barely noticeable—but enough to catch her trained eyes. She swallowed hard, her fingers hovering over the metal doorknob. Every instinct screamed danger. But she couldn't just walk away—not when her mother was inside that room, vulnerable. Not when Becky was in there with her.

Freen pushed the door open.

The closet was dark.
Too dark.

She reached for the light switch.

Flick—

Nothing.

The light didn't turn on.

Freen exhaled shakily. "Seriously?" she muttered to herself, though her voice trembled slightly.

She took a cautious step inside, eyes adjusting to the darkness. The faint glow from the hallway illuminated shelves stacked with linens and cleaning supplies. It looked normal. Ordinary.

But she felt something.
A presence.
The same unsettling weight she felt that night in the parking lot.

Her pulse quickened.

Then—

A breath.

Soft.
Behind her.

Freen spun around instantly.

No one.
The hallway was empty.

She wasn't imagining things. She knew she wasn't imagining things.

Her hands clenched into fists, her breathing heavy as she backed out of the closet, refusing to turn her back to the darkness inside. When she stepped into the hallway completely, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket.

She almost jumped.

Freen hurriedly pulled it out.

Rebecca.

Her heart softened for a moment before she swiped to answer.

"Hon?" Freen tried to steady her voice. "Are you okay?"

"Where did you go?" Rebecca's voice was tense, barely keeping calm. "You walked out and didn't say anything. Is everything alright?"

Freen took a shaky breath, glancing around the hallway again. "I... heard something. I wanted to check."

Becky was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Freen... come back."

There was worry. Fear. Love.
All tangled in those three words.

Freen exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. "Okay. I'm coming now."

But before she turned, she noticed something else.

A small piece of fabric caught on the corner of the cleaning cart.
Black.
Smooth.
Like part of a jacket.

She plucked it off, examining it in her fingers. This wasn't hospital staff uniform. This was—

Security fabric.

Her stomach twisted.

Someone pretending to be security... or someone wearing a uniform to blend in.

She tucked the fabric into her pocket and walked briskly back to the VIP room, her senses on high alert.

When she entered the room, Becky immediately stood from her seat, walking toward her with worry plastered all over her face.

"Freen, what happened?" she asked, grasping her hands.

Freen looked at her mother first. Saroj was still asleep, peacefully unaware of the tension filling the room now.

"We're not safe," Freen whispered, her voice low.

Rebecca stiffened. "What do you mean?"

But before Freen could answer, they both heard footsteps approaching the VIP corridor. Slow. Heavy. Purposeful.

Not nurse footsteps.
Not rushed doctor footsteps.
Not the casual walk of visitors.

These footsteps had weight.
Authority.
Intention.

And they were getting closer.

Becky's hand tightened around Freen's.

"Should we call Nam?" she whispered, panic building up in her voice.

But Freen shook her head. "No. Nam has the twins. I won't drag her into this."

She moved protectively in front of Rebecca, glancing around the room. Her mind raced:

Should she hide Becky?
Should she lock the door?
Should she call security?

But then she remembered: security might not actually be security.

Her eyes darted to the window.
Two stories high.
Not ideal.
But survivable if they needed to escape.

She turned back to Becky. "Whatever happens, stay behind me. Understand?"

Becky nodded, though every part of her shook.

The footsteps stopped right outside their door.

Freen's breath froze in her throat.

Rebecca clutched the back of Freen's blazer.

Silence.

Then—

A knock.
Soft.
Too soft for comfort.

"Miss Sarocha?" a man's voice called from behind the door.

Freen felt her stomach twist.
She didn't recognize the voice.
It wasn't a nurse.
It wasn't a doctor.

"Who are you?" Freen called out, her tone cold and sharp.

A pause.

"Hospital security, ma'am. We... need to speak to you."

Rebecca's grip on her tightened.

Freen stepped back, her mind racing.

Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.

She moved toward Becky—slowly, carefully—and whispered:

"Don't let go of me."

The knock came again.

This time, harder.
More impatient.

"Miss Sarocha... we know you're in there."

Becky's face went pale.

And for the first time in a long time—
Freen felt something she seldom allowed herself to feel.

Fear.