When the Script Changes

Special Chapter 2: The Wedding, The Secret and the Maldives

Nam chuckled. "I take it that was a good letter?"

Becky beamed.

"The best."

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The venue was breathtaking—a garden overlooking the ocean, where soft white flowers lined the aisle and fairy lights twinkled like stars.

Freen stood at the altar, dressed in a perfectly tailored white suit, looking like a dream.

But it wasn't just the suit.

It was her.

The way her dark eyes lit up the moment she saw Becky step onto the aisle.

The way she sucked in a breath like she had never seen anything more beautiful.

The way her lips parted, like she was about to cry.

And Becky?

Becky didn't even notice the guests.

Didn't hear the music.

Didn't feel anything except the overwhelming pull toward the woman waiting for her.

When she finally reached Freen, her hands immediately found hers, squeezing tightly.

Freen whispered, voice shaking, "You're so beautiful, baby."

Becky smirked. "I know."

Freen laughed. "Unbelievable."

The vows were simple.

But they felt like magic.

Because when Freen looked into Becky's eyes and said, "I vow to love you in every script, in every story, in every lifetime,"

Becky knew.

She had already won everything.

And when they kissed—

It felt like the whole world was celebrating.

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Maldives – A Honeymoon in Paradise

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting golden light over the waves.

Becky stood at the edge of the infinity pool, her white silk cover-up slipping off her shoulders as she admired the view.

The air was warm, the water inviting, and behind her—

Freen was staring.

Not at the ocean.

Not at the sunset.

Not at anything but Becky.

Her wife.

Her gorgeous, irresistible, driving-her-absolutely-insane wife.

Becky turned, raising a playful brow. "You okay over there?"

Freen leaned against the glass railing, eyes dark with something dangerous.

"Not really," she admitted, voice low.

Becky smirked. "Why?"

Freen's fingers traced Becky's wrist, her touch sending warmth through Becky's body.

"Because I'm jealous," Freen murmured.

Becky tilted her head. "Of what?"

Freen's eyes traced every inch of her.

"Of the way the ocean gets to touch you every time you swim."

Her fingers brushed Becky's collarbone.

"Of the way the sun gets to kiss your skin."

Her hand slid lower, ghosting over Becky's waist.

"Of the way this dress gets to cling to you."

Becky shivered.

"Freen," she whispered.

Freen smirked. "I don't like sharing."

Becky laughed, wrapping her arms around Freen's neck. "Baby, you're ridiculous."

Freen hummed. "Maybe."

She leaned in, lips brushing Becky's ear. "But you're mine."

Becky melted.

Because if there was one thing she loved—

It was when Freen reminded her exactly who she belonged to.

That night, as they lay in their villa, tangled up in soft sheets and each other, Becky traced circles on Freen's bare shoulder.

"You really rewrote the script?" Becky asked softly.

Freen nodded, pressing a kiss to Becky's hair. "Every time."

Becky smiled. "And now?"

Freen cupped Becky's face, tilting her chin up so their eyes met.

"Now," Freen whispered, "we write it together."

And as Becky kissed her wife—

As the waves crashed outside, as the world around them faded, as their love burned brighter than the stars—

She knew.

This wasn't just a love story.

It was theirs.

And it would never, ever end.

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Because real love? It's not just written in scripts.

It's lived.

And Becky and Freen?

They were living it. 💍🌊