TRIP TO LIBERTY (FREENBECKY)

Chapter 10

A smirk played on my lips, the weight of guilt ebbing away in Neko's presence. 

"Well, not as well as you do."

A mischievous glint danced in Neko's eyes as she closed the distance between us, her lips brushing against mine in a playful kiss. The world outside seemed to fade away, the yacht's confines containing a love that defied the constraints of secrecy and deception.

But as the kiss deepened, a mixture of longing and uncertainty lingered beneath the surface. The reality of our situation couldn't be denied – a tangled web of lies, desires, and a secret love that could never fully flourish in the shadows.

Our connection remained unbreakable, a bond that had grown stronger despite the challenges we faced. And in the midst of our stolen moments, I couldn't help but wonder how much longer we could keep our secrets hidden, and what consequences awaited us on the horizon.

..

Becky's POV

The private library exuded an air of tranquility, the scent of old books mingling with the soft rustle of pages. Saint and I sat across from each other, a chessboard set between us. As we moved our pieces with calculated intent, the atmosphere crackled with a tension that seemed to transcend the boundaries of our game.

Saint's eyes, once warm and inviting, now held a glint of uncertainty. His movements were deliberate, his gaze fixed on the board as he spoke. 

"You know, Becky, I've been wondering..."

I feigned innocence, my brows furrowing slightly. 

"Wondering what, Saint?"

His hesitation was palpable, a veil of suspicion clouding his features. 

"Why exactly did you convince me to come to this reunion? And why did you decide to come with me as my plus one?"

I offered a playful smile, my fingers tapping the side of my chin. 

"Why wouldn't I? We're all on this yacht together, and it seemed like a fun opportunity."

Saint's lips twitched, a mixture of doubt and frustration dancing in his eyes. 

"It's just... I can't shake off this feeling that there's more to it."

I maintained my composed facade, my heart racing with his probing questions. 

"Saint, you're overthinking this. I promise, I just wanted to have a good time and meet new people."

He leaned forward, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. 

"No, I mean, there's something you're hiding. Something you're not telling me."

I studied his face for a moment, trying to gauge how much he knew or suspected. 

"Saint, you're reading too much into it. It's just a high school reunion, after all."

He scrutinized me for a moment before relaxing back into his seat. 

"Fine, let's just play this game then."

As we moved our pieces in silence, I couldn't shake the feeling that Saint's doubt had sparked a fire of suspicion within him. Every move, every glance felt loaded with unspoken questions. And then, in a sudden change of demeanor, he broke the silence.

"You know, I almost didn't come on this yacht."

I turned my attention to him, intrigued. 

"Really? Why's that?"

He hesitated, his gaze distant. 

"Because there are people here I despise. But none more than Freen."

The name hung in the air like an accusation. My heart quickened – was Saint onto something? Did he suspect something about my intentions? I forced myself to remain calm, to keep my secrets well-guarded.

"Why the strong feelings toward her?" I asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.

Saint's expression turned bitter, haunted. 

"Because she ruined my life."

His words struck like a blow, and I listened intently as he continued to share his story. He spoke of being outed, of the resulting humiliation and tragedy. My heart went out to him, and I reached out to touch his arm in sympathy. 

"I'm so sorry, Saint. That must have been incredibly difficult."

He nodded, his gaze distant. 

"Difficult doesn't even begin to describe it."

His pain was palpable, and I wished I could offer more comfort. 

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. 

"No, the past can't be changed."

I felt a mix of sadness and frustration, my emotions a whirlwind as I tried to navigate this unexpected revelation. As Saint shared his pain, I felt my own doubts and fears creeping in. Could I truly trust the people around me? Were their intentions genuine, or were they masking their true selves?

I opened my mouth to speak, to offer some reassurance, but Saint abruptly stood up, his voice firm. 

"I can't do this, Becky. I can't pretend everything is okay."

And with that, he left the library, leaving me to grapple with his words and the growing uncertainty within me. 

As I stared at the abandoned chessboard, my mind raced with questions. Was Freen really changing for the better, or was she just playing another game? Could I trust her, or was I being manipulated in ways I couldn't yet comprehend?

The shadows of doubt grew longer, casting a veil over the once-clear intentions of those around me. And as I sat alone in the quiet of the library, I couldn't help but question my own motives and the role I played in a narrative that seemed to be shrouded in secrets and deception.

The image of Old Lady Agatha flashed through my mind, a symbol of redemption in Freen's story. But as Saint's words echoed, I couldn't help but wonder if it was all too convenient, too perfectly constructed. 

Was Freen truly sincere, or was this just another layer of manipulation in a much larger game?