Heavy breaths. The flowery scent of skin. The steamy water in the tub. The sound of light droplets falling... all blending with the sight of a fair-skinned, beautiful woman staring intently at Freen's innocent face as the latter washed her hair with shampoo.
Freen's hands trembled under the weight of those eyes. She decided to switch places and move to the back—this position was too uncomfortable, making her feel overly conscious. She attempted to stand, but didn't get the chance as a soft hand suddenly gripped hers.
Upon contact, Freen's heart began to race. Slowly, she turned her head to the side—and there it was again: Lady Rebecca's intense, unreadable expression. Freen tried to pull her hand away, but Lady Rebecca's grip only tightened.
Freen's mind spun with questions. What is she thinking? she wondered, holding her breath. The silence between them grew heavier.
The lady didn't speak. She just stared—her eyes distant, like she was caught in a memory she couldn't escape. Freen could feel the tension thickening around them, almost as if time had slowed.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lady Rebecca leaned in and spoke in a soft, whisper-like voice.
But Freen couldn't understand the words.
Then, all of a sudden, Lady Rebecca reached out and placed her hand gently on Freen's nape. Her touch lingered. Her gaze was filled with something almost too intimate to name—longing, perhaps, or something deeper.
A shiver ran down Freen's spine as the warmth from Lady Rebecca's touch spread through her body. She froze, caught between the urge to pull away—and the strange, unspoken pull to stay.
Freen's POV
Becky, what are you doing? This isn't in the script.
Shit! Freen, you need to pull away. She is out of her mind.
Becky is now leaning forward toward my face. I have been shaking throughout the whole scene. Is she really going to do this? Get a grip on yourself, Freen; this is all just an act.
I smelled her breath as she got closer, but I didn't let her proceed with what she was about to do. So I faked an act as if I slipped on the floor and let myself fall into the tub with her in it.
"CUT!" Director Wuttapong shouted.
"Freen, are you okay?" Becky's concerned face was the first thing I saw when I managed to get off the bathtub with her help.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just slipped a bit," I replied, trying to hide my embarrassment.
"Freen, are you sure you are okay?" the director asked me; he was now in front of us.
He looked at me. I know I look like a mess right now as I'm soaking wet and covered in flower petals from the bathtub.
"Okay, I think the two of you need to take a rest. Go change, since you've accidentally soaked your costume. That costume was customized according to the book's description for this scene." The director said this with a hint of concern in his voice.
I nodded and made my way to the changing room, grateful for the break.
Just as I turned a corner, a junior stylist rushed over with a towel and a robe.
"P'Freen, do you want help?" she asked softly. "I can help you change, or dry your hair maybe?"
Another team member followed, carrying slippers and a bottle of warm water.
"Here, P'Freen. You must be cold. Let us help you, okay?"
I gave them both a small smile—polite but firm.
"Khob khun ka, Nong, but I'm okay," I said gently. "Just give me a few minutes. I'll take care of it myself."
They hesitated, then offered a small wave before stepping back. They knew better than to insist. I've always carried myself with quiet discipline—even in moments like this.
Without looking back, I walk toward my changing room. I know Becky's eyes are following behind me. I can't face her because the images of what just happened keep flashing in my head. So, when I get to the door of my changing room, I quickly get in and close the door behind me.
As I changed into a new costume, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed about my little mishap in the bathtub. However, I remind myself that if I hadn't done so, I would have lost control
and kissed her in front of everyone.
That'll be another topic in the industry.
What is your problem? You're a loveteam now; it wouldn't be a problem, but would actually be a good shot for your teamwork. And if so, just say you improvised to make it more realistic.
Urgh, still no. I can't do that to Becky; she is like a little sister to me.
Bullshit!! You've kissed her a lot of times. Just admit that you're a coward and can't admit that you're in love with her.
I though you were already what you feel towards her ?Why change of mind Freen?
Urgh... no...
I am afraid.
"P'Freen, had I not known you, I might've thought you'd gone mad."
Freen flushed deeply at the sight of a familiar, smiling face reflected in the mirror before her. She turned away swiftly, striving to steady herself.
"What are you doing here? Since when have you been there?" she asked, her voice quivering with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.
The younger woman's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I've been here for quite some time," she replied lightly.
"I was behind you when you entered. But I suppose you didn't notice," Becky added, her smile widening.
Freen's face turned redder still as she realized how completely unaware she had been of Becky's presence.
"I... I apologize. My mind has been clouded with many things. And... I'm sorry for how I handled the earlier scene," Freen said, her tone soft with regret.
Becky merely waved a dismissive hand, her smile turning more sympathetic. "Think nothing of it. We all falter now and then. And truth be told, it was rather entertaining to watch you."
Freen raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to feel relieved or mortified. Still, she found the courage to look Becky in the eye.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her lips curling into an uncertain smile—though she didn't know quite why she smiled at all.
Becky let out a gentle laugh, her voice low and lilting. "Oh, don't worry. I watch everyone in this place. It's become a pastime of mine."
Freen's smile faltered at the strange confession, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Yes... that hasn't changed. You've always observed more than you let on."
Becky's expression softened, and for a heartbeat, her cheerfulness faded. Then, with a wistful tone, she murmured, "I suppose some things are fated never to change."
A long pause lingered between them before Freen, against her own better judgment, asked, "So... what have you observed about me?"
She didn't know why she asked. The words had simply escaped her lips.
Becky tilted her head, considering her answer. "Well," she said slowly, "your resolve has always struck me. Even when everything was against you, you never truly surrendered."
Freen listened, heart pounding. She found herself smiling—not from pride, but from relief. Becky had not noticed the thing Freen feared most: her growing affection for the younger woman. It had haunted her, that feeling. But now, the conversation had taken another path—one she could walk with less shame.
✅ Revised Scene: Becky's PoV (Present Day)
Becky's PoV
Should I tell her or not?
The earlier scene was... something else.
I know what she did there—and I'm thankful.
But also... disappointed.
Disappointed in myself.
I wanted to apologize for what I was about to do. I wasn't in the right state of mind.
Honestly, I'm still not. Because what I saw—what I thought I saw—wasn't just the scene we were acting.
I swear it wasn't what was written in the script.
It felt like something else was happening... something real. I don't know how to explain it. But deep down, I know this isn't just an ordinary story.
This novel—this whole project—there's something strange about it. Something no one else sees.
But who would ever believe me?
"N'Beck? Are you okay? You're zoning out."
Her voice broke through my spiraling thoughts.
Two warm hands cupped my cheeks, grounding me instantly. Her eyes—soft, searching, concerned—anchored my heart. I blinked a few times, trying to focus.
"Becky? What's wrong? Tell me," she said, gently caressing my face with the back of her fingers.
My breath caught.
My whole body tensed, the hair on my arms rising—and yet, I didn't move. I couldn't.
I just... stared at her. So close. So warm.
So beautiful.
I know this isn't the time for thoughts like that, but...
God, I wanted to kiss her.
Just like in that vision I had earlier.
"Woah! Are we interrupting something here?"
Tee's voice broke the spell.
The rest of the gang stood at the doorway, caught mid-gasp at the sight of us.
Embarrassed, I quickly pulled away from her. So did she.
"It's not what you think, guys," Freen said quickly, avoiding their eyes.
"Whatever you need, please wait outside. I need to change—it's getting cold."
Her assistant came in to help her out of her costume. The rest of us quietly filed out.
Once I'd changed into something more comfortable, I didn't go straight back.
I needed air. Space. Silence.
My mind was restless, caught between reality and something far stranger.
Maybe walking would help.
The mansion was quiet, long hallways dimly lit with amber light, casting shadows that danced softly on the walls. I let my footsteps lead me, without really thinking.
I wandered past antique portraits, closed doors, and empty side rooms. Every creak of the floorboard sounded like a whisper.
I tried to convince myself it was just nerves. Just exhaustion.
But my heart was heavy.
That scene earlier—it felt like a memory. Like I'd lived it before.
Or was still living it now in some other thread of time.
As I turned a corner, something flickered at the edge of my vision.
A figure—familiar, fleeting—slipping into one of the rooms.
I froze.
Was that...?
I stepped forward, trying to catch a better look, but whoever it was had already disappeared behind the door.
My breath hitched. It was him. I was sure of it. The same person Tee and I once caught speaking cryptically about the story.
Maybe this was fate. A chance to get answers.
My footsteps quickened, heart pounding, and I approached the room—the same one Tee and I had been in before.
I knocked.
No answer.
Leaning my ear to the door: silence.
Still... something urged me forward. I turned the knob and stepped in.
The room was empty.
Cold. Still. Like no one had been in it for days.
No... I saw him. I saw him enter.
Then, I remembered—the hidden passage.
Tee and I had discovered it right here. I moved toward the spot, tracing the wall where it had once been.
Gone.
The wall was solid, untouched. No seams, no creases.
No sign that anything had ever been there.
I started to panic.
Was I imagining it? Did someone seal it up? Or... was it never real at all?
My fingers tapped along the walls, listening for hollowness—nothing.
It was as if the mansion itself was hiding something from me.
This was the fourth room on the left wing, I reminded myself. It has to be this one. I know I'm not wrong.
But doubt crept in.
Unless I am.
I turned to leave, confusion still clouding my mind—and there she was. Mee. My stylist.
"Becky, there you are! We've been looking for you for three hours!"
I stared at her.
"Three hours?" I repeated. "That's not possible. I've only been here for... maybe twenty minutes."
She looked at me like I had said something crazy.
"What happened? Why are you all looking for me?"
Mee hesitated. Then her eyes welled with tears.
"It's Freen."
My stomach dropped.
"What about her?"
She didn't answer. She just looked at me—and that silence screamed louder than words.
"What happened to Freen?!"