Multi Shot - LingOrm and FreenBecky

FREENBECKY - Fierce Attraction : Intersections Of Fate

Fai chuckled, folding her arms. 

"You're not wrong. But it's interesting—you get this fired up whenever she's involved. What's that about?"

"I don't get fired up," Becky snapped, a little too quickly. She looked away, busying herself with a stray piece of paper. "I just think it's ironic. She's supposed to be untouchable, but even she can't escape family politics."

Despite her words, Becky's mind drifted to the press conference fiasco and the fleeting vulnerability she'd glimpsed in Freen's guarded demeanor. 

The CEO might have perfected her cold, impenetrable mask, but there were cracks—moments where something real, something human, broke through.

Boon, ever the gossip enthusiast, tapped her phone again. "If this rumor's true, the tabloids will lose their minds. 'Ice Queen Gets Hitched'—that headline alone would crash every social media platform."

Becky waved her off, trying to refocus on the task at hand. 

"Let's just get through this campaign without adding more drama to the mix."

But as Fai and Boon dove back into discussions about wardrobe fittings, promotional timelines, and potential collaborations with other Channel 3 artists, Becky found herself distracted. The idea of Freen being cornered into a marriage alliance gnawed at her in an odd way.

She could almost imagine Freen sitting stiffly at some luxurious dinner table, her piercing gaze cool but distant, enduring yet another situation beyond her control. 

It was infuriating. And oddly... unsettling.

Fai snapped her fingers in front of Becky's face, breaking her reverie. 

"Earth to Becky. Don't tell me you're zoning out already—we've got a million things to figure out."

Becky shook her head, brushing off the thoughts. 

"I'm here. Let's just finish this."

Even as the conversation flowed around her, Becky couldn't shake the growing sense of curiosity—and frustration—that tangled in her chest. Whether it was annoyance, empathy, or something else entirely, she wasn't sure.

All she knew was that no matter how hard she tried to keep Freen out of her head, their worlds—and their fates—kept colliding in ways she couldn't ignore.

Yet even as she spoke, her mind flickered with memories of their weird corridor moment at the press fiasco—Freen's subtle empathy. 

The thought of Freen trapped in a forced marriage stirred Becky's anger. The haughty CEO was aggravating, yes, but no one deserved to be bartered like that.

Days later, the Prism Vogue creative meeting loomed. Becky Armstrong and a handful of Channel 3 artists arrived at the assigned venue—an airy, stylish lounge in the same Orchid Riverside Hotel that would host the main photoshoot. The space, bathed in natural light and accented with minimalist Thai-inspired décor, buzzed with the hum of pre-meeting chatter.

Rumors swirled about whether Freen Sarocha Chankimha, the ever-elusive CEO, would make an appearance. Becky, clad in an effortlessly chic ensemble—white high-waisted trousers and a black silk blouse—tried to push the question out of her mind.

Probably cozied up at some fancy family dinner with that fiancé candidate

She thought wryly, ignoring the uncomfortable twist in her stomach.