Becky had just come out of the bathroom, water still dripping from her hair. Wearing a pink robe, she sat on the edge of her bed and faced the vanity mirror, gently drying her hair with a towel. She then turned on the hair blower.
While drying her hair, the robe that covered her chest occasionally loosened, unintentionally offering a clearer view to someone watching her from the window through a pair of binoculars. A sudden chill ran down Becky's spine — a shiver as if someone was watching her.
She paused and walked to the glass door that led to the veranda. Adjusting her robe, she peeked outside but saw nothing suspicious. She locked the door, closed the curtain, and collapsed back onto the bed with a heavy sigh, staring at the black ceiling where a white ceiling fan spun slowly. Her hands rested beside her head.
She sat up again and noticed a pile of papers on the center table. A glowing card lay on top. She moved the card aside and picked up a book with a title on the cover: You, Me and the Curse in Our Souls. The title intrigued her.
She was about to open the book when a knock came at her door.
"Becky, come downstairs. Dinner is ready. We'll eat together," her mom called.
"Yes, just a few minutes and I'll be down," Becky responded.
She quickly grabbed her university shirt and a pair of joggers. After dressing, she left the room. The book remained open, unread. A sudden breeze flipped its pages until they stopped at one marked:
The Wisp Sings
"The sound of her hair is like music to my ears as the wind lifts it, dancing to the rhythm of the night. I rest my head on her shoulder while we ride this horse under the stars. Where she takes me, I don't care, as long as my arms stay around her waist and her warmth keeps me grounded.
Let me sleep, I am tired of my grief.
*We stop near a cliff. The golden leaves of an ancient tree shimmer above the rocky sea."
"It's so beautiful here, Freen!" I tell her. She smiles without saying a word. Her face glows gold from the tree's radiant light.
She doesn't understand my language, but I know she gets what I mean.
This magical moment becomes a fairytale. The tree rustles in the wind, fireflies dance around us like fallen stars lighting our night. This cliff — this is our place. And she, she is my home.
And I would like you to love me, to love me, to love me.
We laugh and spin hand in hand on the grass until we collapse together.
This is the night when these woods sigh. Come with me.
Lying in the grass, I watch her speak in her language — I don't understand a word, but I love her voice.
"It's beautiful," slips from my lips. She looks at me, puzzled.
"อะไร? (What?)" she asks.
Her innocent confusion makes me smile. She gestures, asking if there's something on her face. I shake my head.
She pouts cutely — it melts my heart.
When I pinch her chipmunk-like cheeks, she squeals and rubs the red marks. I try again, but she runs, giggling.
We chase each other like kids under the moonlight.
—
A loud thud jolted Becky awake. Still seated on her couch, she blinked at the black ceiling. Her mouth slightly open, she wiped it quickly, checking for drool. Luckily, there was none.
She was still in her robe. The script had fallen from her hands. Maybe that's what woke her. Her dream returned to her: she had become one of the characters, riding into the night with Freen. The story had swept her away.
Then she noticed something odd — the veranda door was slightly open. She was sure she had locked it and closed the curtain.
Gripping her robe tighter, she approached cautiously and peeked outside. It was already dark. Nothing looked out of place. She locked the glass door again and shut the curtain.
She changed into her university shirt and joggers. Just as she finished, there was another knock — this time not from the room door, but from the veranda.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She froze.
Was this... Déjà vu?
Trying to brush off the uneasiness, she walked toward the door but tripped slightly over the script book still on the floor. She slapped her forehead for forgetting to pick it up.
Bending down, she placed the book back on the table.
Today has been exhausting. Between the project and Freen's heartbreak from being cheated on by Blew, Becky's chest felt heavy with emotions.
Another knock.
Heart racing, she grabbed the script and approached the glass door. Hiding behind the curtain, she peeked out.
Nothing.
She opened the curtain wider —
"Aaah!" Becky screamed, slamming the glass with the book in her hand as she saw a figure outside.
"Becky, stop!! It's me, Yuki!"
"H-huh?" Becky lowered the book, inspecting the woman outside with smudged lipstick, tear-streaked eyeliner, and messy hair.
"Yuki?" she gasped, unlocking and opening the door.
Yuki lunged forward and hugged her.
"Ahh! Becky!" Yuki whimpered, just as Becky bonked her head with the book out of instinct.
"You almost gave me a heart attack!" Becky yelled.
Yuki pouted and started crying again. Becky sighed, hugging her gently and leading her to the bed.
"What happened? Why are you standing outside like that?" she asked.
Yuki only sobbed harder.
"Becky! What happened?!" voices came from outside the room.
The door burst open. Richie and her parents rushed in, concern on their faces and spare keys in hand.
Becky stood, facing her family. Yuki lay crying on her bed.
Richie raised a brow, silently asking who the girl was. Becky shrugged and motioned him to stop — she knew he'd tease Yuki.
Her parents remained quiet, eyes scanning the scene.
"It's okay, Rich. Mom, Dad — it's Yuki. I'll handle this," she reassured them.
They nodded and left.
Becky returned to Yuki and gently rubbed her back.
"Maybe a shower would help you feel better?" she suggested.
Yuki nodded and went into the bathroom.
Becky slumped her shoulders and sighed. "What an eventful day," she muttered, picking out clothes for her friend.
Becky's POV
"So, you've finally broken up with him?" I asked, trying to confirm what Yuki had just said.
"No," she murmured, eyes downcast. "He left me at the bar... and I got harassed by some creep."
We sat cross-legged on my bed, facing each other.
"What?! That bastard," I fumed.
"I caught him kissing another girl in the restroom. When I confronted him, he just... left with her."
Tears streamed down her face again.
I didn't know what to say. Words seemed useless.
So, I just hugged her.
And let her cry on my shoulder.
I thought of Freen.
How did she react when she found out Blew cheated on her?
Did she cry like this too?
Who was there for her?
Stop it, I told myself.
She doesn't care about you.
To her, I was just an employee.
Just a background character in her life —
And she? She belonged to Blew's world.
Their families had plans. Arranged futures. Business ties.
Freen had no voice in any of it — ever since her parents were murdered, she was adopted by Blew's family. Their company raised her.
She couldn't even fight for her own heart...
Not even for herself.