Present Day
Third person's POVThe dusty old diary lay open on the oak table, its fragile pages whispering secrets of a time long gone. As I traced my fingers over the faded ink, the story of Lady Rebecca unfolded — a tale of duty, rebellion, and the price of a political marriage.
Flashback to the Past
Lady Rebecca's Perspective
"Wait," I said, even though I knew she wouldn't understand me. Still, I took the risk—hoping, somehow, that I could stop her from walking out and leaving me behind in this room.Without clearing my name. Without understanding that I never meant to hurt her.It was all a terrible misunderstanding.
I sank down to the floor and picked up the handkerchief I had dropped earlier when I had approached her. The dress I was wearing flared out around me like a blooming rosebud. From afar, I probably looked like a woman sitting on a giant flower.
I glanced in her direction, relieved to see she hadn't left. But then I noticed the red smudge under her nose and worry instantly flooded me.
She stepped toward me—and as soon as she was close enough, I quickly reached for her face, gently wiping away the blood with my handkerchief. She flinched at my touch and pulled away, but I reached out again, guiding her face back toward mine.Her eyes locked on mine.
I felt a pang of guilt—but no, I wasn't going to apologize.You just don't know how, whispered a voice in my head.
There was something strange about her. Her eyes—so expressive, such a rich brown—held something I couldn't quite place. She was one of the food servers here, that much I was certain. I could tell from the way she behaved around me. From the way she stared. It was like she knew me somehow. But I was sure we'd never met before.
Curiosity stirred in me.
As I dabbed her face, I noticed sweat beading along her forehead.
"Are you alright? You're sweating," I asked softly.
She said nothing. Just stared at me.
I reached up to check her temperature, and I watched her cheeks flush red. Her skin was cold. I took her hands—they were trembling.
"You're freezing. Why are you shaking?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
She yanked her hands back suddenly. I blinked, stunned.
Was she… afraid of me?
"…Okay," I murmured, letting her go.I straightened my back, leveling my gaze with hers. We were much closer than I realized—I could feel her breath brush across my skin. I frowned, noticing the way she stared at me. It made me… uncomfortable. In a way that was hard to explain.
I cleared my throat, desperate to break the invisible tension between us.
"You should be thankful I'm cleaning your dirty face. It's not my fault, it's just that—" I paused, faltering.God, I thought. She's attractive.I tried not to show it, but her gaze made my heart stutter.
Her eyes flicked from mine to my lips. I knew she didn't understand what I was saying, but the way she looked at me—it stirred something. Something I wasn't ready to admit.
"You are so weird," I said finally.
Her eyebrows rose. I didn't mean it to come out that way. My voice—why did it sound so husky?She looked so damn cute when she was confused. I found myself smiling, just to let her know I wasn't all bad.
Suddenly—
"Oh my god, servant!""Help!""Help me!""Blood!"
ขอบคุณพระเจ้า ในที่สุดคุณก็ตื่น(K̄hxbkhuṇ phracêā. Nı thī̀s̄ud khuṇ k̆ tụ̄̀n)"Thank God. You're finally awake."
A woman's voice stirred me from unconsciousness. My vision was hazy as I blinked, trying to focus on the figure sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Miss Nam? Where… where am I?" I asked groggily, sitting up and clutching my aching head.
"You're at the clinic, Lady Rebecca," she said gently.
"The clinic?" I repeated, trying to make sense of everything.
"Yes, Lady Rebecca," she confirmed. "You fainted."
"What… what happened?" I asked.
"That's exactly what Lord Armstrong wants to know," she replied.
My eyes widened. "Father? He knows?"
Footsteps echoed outside the room—heavy, familiar. The firm strike of a baton tapping against the marble floor.
"It's good that you're awake."That baritone voice made my blood run cold.
"Father," I whispered as he appeared in the doorway, solemn and stern. He glanced at the guards flanking him and waved them off. They exited without a word.
Miss Nam remained at my side, but my father's focus turned to her.
"Lord Roderick," she said respectfully, bowing.
"Can you explain what happened here?" he asked, though we both knew I was the one he truly wanted to hear from.
"She fainted, my Lord," Miss Nam answered calmly.
"Father, I assure you—it was a minor accident. You didn't need to leave your ambassadorial work over this. I promise, I'll handle it."I tried to sound convincing. Responsible."I'm sorry I worried you."
"You should have called George," he said. "You're going to marry him, after all. At least be civil."
My expression soured at the mention of his name. George. My supposed future.
I sighed, openly frustrated. I didn't care about appearances anymore. How could they force me into this?
My father dismissed Miss Nam with a simple gesture.
When we were alone, he took my hand and knelt in front of me.
"Honey, haven't we talked about this?" he said gently. "I know you have your own thoughts, your own ideals. But everything we do is for your future."
I nodded slowly, guilt gnawing at me.
But inside, I was crumbling. I didn't believe in their version of the future. I didn't want this life.
Still, he was my father.
"I appreciate your concern," I whispered, "but I need to stay true to myself. Even if it's difficult."
I had to find the strength to speak up—to stop this wedding, to stop pretending. If only I knew how to tell them.
He smiled. "I know you, Rebecca. I gave you life. And I know these thoughts of yours… they're childish. You're old enough now to give up these fantasies."
His words stung.
Was that all this was? Fantasy?
"Stop worrying about the future," he continued. "That's a man's responsibility. George is a good match. I'm your father—have I ever disappointed you?"
Hadn't he?
"People would kill to be in your position—chosen as the prime minister's son's bride."
"Pumpkin," he added, "you'll thank me for this one day."
I looked into his eyes. He smiled—kind, warm, familiar. That smile always undid me.My resolve cracked.
I nodded.
He stood, pleased. But as he turned to go, he said:
"I have to leave now. I need to punish a certain servant who did this to you."
I froze. What?
Someone was going to suffer… because of me?
I sprang from the bed in panic.
"Miss Nam!" I called. She returned, looking surprised.
"Yes, Lady Rebecca?"
"Where's my new personal maid?"
Her face changed. She hesitated.
"Your father… I heard him clearly outside your room, Lady Rebecca…"
"What do you mean?" I asked, dread rising.
"She's being punished," she said quietly.
"For what?! What did she do?!"
"For the damage she caused you…"
Then a flashback from what happened came crashing
"Freen?" I said, standing from my seat.
She didn't respond. Her hand clutched her temple. Her knees buckled.
"Freen!" I rushed toward her, my skirts tangling at my feet. She was already falling, and I didn't think—I just moved.
I caught her in my arms just in time, but my balance faltered on the rug. The weight of my gown, the slipperiness of the marble floor—
We both crashed to the ground.
My back slammed into the chair's carved corner.
A sharp crack.
I gasped.
Warmth spread down my scalp, into my vision. I blinked, confused, holding Freen tightly even as she remained unconscious in my arms.
"Help…" I tried to call out. My voice was weak, but my heart thundered.I tilted my head—tried to stay awake.
Footsteps.Voices.
The door burst open.
"Lady Rebecca?!"
"Oh God—Miss Nam!"
"Blood—there's blood!"
"Call the physician! LADY REBECCA IS BLEEDING!"
My vision swam. Freen was breathing, thank heavens. That was all I could hold onto.
I whispered one last time as the world tilted:"Just save her. Please… save her."
Then, darkness.
End of flashback
I didn't let her finish. I rushed past her, out the door.
"Lady Rebecca—where are we going?!" she called out, trying to keep up.
"To save an idiot," I muttered, not slowing down.
The Present Day
Freen's POV
The mansion's corridors were silent now, but its walls still held the echoes of an untold story. Sleep overwhelmed me, pulling me into a dream where the delicate rosebud brooch caught on the lamp by my desk shimmered softly in the dim light.
What is happening to me? The question echoed in my mind just as a sudden knock on the door jolted me back to reality.
"Freeennn!" Kade and Jim burst in, running toward me with wide grins before pulling me into a tight hug. Tee lingered quietly at the doorframe, watching.
My eyes, however, searched beyond the familiar faces. They locked with a pair outside the door, distant yet impossibly close. Her eyes—I saw everything there—and in that moment, everything just...
"Hey, are you okay? " Kade's voice pulled me back from the swirl of thoughts.
Jim stepped forward, brows furrowed. "You really shouldn't push yourself so hard, Freen. Fainting on set? That's serious. You need to take care of yourself."
Tee nodded silently, concern evident in her gaze.
But all I could focus on was Becky. She moved slowly, deliberately, weaving through the shadows in the hallway. Her eyes didn't leave mine as she drew closer—calm, unreadable, like a ghost from my dreams made real.
My heart pounded, yet my voice caught in my throat.
"Becky..." I whispered, barely daring to breathe.
She stopped just inches from me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. No words were needed. In that silent moment, I knew—in dreams or reality, the past or the present—Becky would always be the anchor of my soul.