When the Script Changes

Chapter 10: The Most Romantic Confession

Freen never knew love could feel like this.

Like warmth on a cold day.

Like laughter in the quiet.

Like a home she never knew she needed—wrapped up in Becky's arms, in Becky's voice, in Becky's touch.

She had spent so long running from love.

And now?

Now, she never wanted to let go of it.

Never wanted to let go of her.

And what she didn't know—what she couldn't have expected—was that Becky felt the same way.

And she was about to prove it.

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It started with a text.

Becky:
Meet me tonight. 8 PM. No excuses.

Freen blinked at her screen, curiosity sparking in her chest.

Freen:
What's happening?

Becky:
Just be there.

Freen grinned.

She had no idea what Becky was planning.

But she knew one thing for sure—

She would be there.

Because for Becky?

She would always show up.

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At exactly 8 PM, Freen arrived at the location Becky had sent her—a secluded rooftop overlooking the city.

And the second she stepped onto the rooftop—

Her breath caught.

Because Becky had transformed the place.

Fairy lights were strung up everywhere, casting a soft golden glow.

A small table was set up with candles, wine, and Freen's favorite food.

And in the middle of it all—

Becky.

Standing there in a dress that made Freen's heart stop.

Looking at her like she was the only person in the world.

Freen swallowed hard.

"What is this?" she asked, stepping closer.

Becky smiled. "Our first real date."

Freen's heart stuttered.

And then—

Becky reached for her hand, guiding her to the table.

They ate.

They laughed.

They stole kisses between sips of wine.

And the entire time, Freen couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming.

And she was right.

Because as the night went on, Becky suddenly stood up, taking a deep breath.

"Okay," she said. "I have something to say."

Freen blinked, putting down her glass. "Should I be scared?"

Becky laughed, shaking her head.

"No," she said softly. "Just listen."

And then—

She reached into her pocket.

And pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

Freen's brows furrowed. "What's that?"

Becky exhaled. "A letter. For you."

And then, she read it.

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"Freen,

I don't know how to write about love without writing about you.

You are in every smile I have, every laugh, every moment that feels like home.

I spent so long chasing you, waiting for you to stop running. And now that you have, I need you to know something.

I don't just want to be someone you love.

I want to be someone you choose.

Every day. In every moment.

So, Freen,

I'm asking you now—

Will you choose me?

Will you be my girlfriend?"

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Freen froze.

Her chest ached in the best way possible.

Because Becky wasn't just asking for a label.

She was asking for forever.

And Freen—

Freen had never been so sure of anything in her life.

She stood up, closing the space between them.

And with the softest smile, she whispered—

"I already chose you."

"I will always choose you."

And then she kissed her.

Longer.

Deeper.

Like it was a promise.

Because it was.

And as the city lights twinkled around them, as Becky smiled into the kiss, as Freen held her like she would never let go—

She knew.

This was it.

This was love.

And it was theirs.

Forever.

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Love isn't just about falling—it's about choosing each other, every single day. And Freen and Becky? They would always choose each other. 🤍