When the Script Changes

Chapter 3: Enter the Rival

Freen looked up, her face neutral. "Hey."

Becky crossed her arms. "Okay, what's with you today?"

Freen raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You're acting weird. Like... distant."

Freen sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket. "I'm fine."

Becky narrowed her eyes. "No, you're not."

Freen hesitated for a second, then shrugged. "You just seem busy."

Becky frowned. "Busy with what?"

Freen gave her a pointed look. "With Lena."

Realization hit Becky like a truck.

Freen was jealous.

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A slow smile spread across Becky's lips. "Oh. I see."

Freen's gaze flickered. "What?"

"You're mad because I was talking to Lena, aren't you?" Becky teased.

Freen scoffed. "Why would I be mad?"

Becky took a step closer. "Because you've been acting weird ever since she showed up."

Freen rolled her eyes. "You're imagining things."

But Becky saw the way Freen's fingers twitched at her sides.

She decided to push a little further.

"Lena's actually really cool," Becky said, keeping her voice casual. "She's super talented. And honestly? She's kind of fun to be around."

Freen's jaw clenched.

Bingo.

Becky grinned. "I think we're gonna get along really well."

Freen's expression didn't change, but Becky could feel the shift in her energy.

"Good for you," Freen said flatly. "Hope you two have fun."

And then she turned and walked away.

Becky's heart pounded.

She hadn't expected Freen to actually leave.

And for some reason, watching her go made Becky's own chest tighten in a way she didn't understand.

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For the rest of the day, Freen barely spoke to her.

She didn't joke around like she usually did. She didn't steal Becky's snacks or nudge her playfully between takes.

It felt wrong.

Becky hated it.

By the time they wrapped up filming, Becky was determined to fix it.

So when she saw Freen grabbing her bag and heading toward the exit, Becky followed.

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"Freen!"

Freen stopped but didn't turn around.

Becky jogged up to her, slightly out of breath. "Are you seriously mad at me?"

Freen exhaled slowly. "Becky, it's late. Just go home."

"No," Becky snapped. "Not until you tell me what your problem is."

Freen clenched her jaw. "I don't have a problem."

"Then why have you been acting like this all day?"

Freen finally turned to face her, and for the first time, Becky saw it clearly—frustration. Maybe even... hurt?

"You really don't get it, do you?" Freen muttered.

Becky's chest tightened. "Then make me understand."

Freen let out a bitter laugh. "Why do you care so much?"

Becky blinked, caught off guard. "Because it's you," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "And I don't like it when you're upset."

Freen's expression softened—just a little.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The tension was thick, the air heavy with something Becky still couldn't name.

And then, Freen sighed. "I just... I don't like seeing you get close to her, okay?"

Becky's heart skipped a beat. "Why not?"

Freen hesitated. Then, quietly—

"Because I don't want anyone else looking at you the way I do."

Becky's breath caught.

Freen's words hung between them, unspoken confessions wrapped in careful phrasing.

The world around them faded.

For the briefest moment, Becky wondered—if I take one more step forward, will she finally say it outright?

But before she could decide, Freen shook her head, as if catching herself.

"Forget it," Freen muttered, turning away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And just like that, she was gone.

Leaving Becky standing there, heart racing, hands trembling, and completely, utterly confused.