Freen's POV
The night had come, and Miss Nam helped me prepare for Lady Rebecca's bath. I never knew that serving someone like her would include helping her bathe. When I finished preparing the tub, I went into her room, eyes downcast, not daring to look around. I made my way into her closet to fetch her bathrobe and nightgown, but the moment I stepped out—
I froze.
This room was far too big for just the two of us, yet I suddenly felt suffocated. The air was chilly, but I was nearly sweating through my uniform. The robe I brought fell to the floor. I couldn't move. Who would, when a literal goddess is undressing in front of you?
I saw her back as she struggled to loosen the lace of her corset, her hair cascading over her shoulders like soft waves of gold. Then I saw her glare—sharp and deadly.
"Don't tell me you're just going to stand there and stare?" Her tone was sharp, annoyed.
Shit. I was staring. Like a pervert.
Flustered, I quickly turned my back and began walking out of the room.
"Idiot!"
Her voice echoed through the room—and something hard struck the back of my head. A wooden heel. Seriously?
I turned around, groaning, only to find her hand tangled in the corset's lace behind her back. She was struggling. I couldn't tell if she was calling me over or blaming me for existing.
Still, I approached cautiously and gestured, asking if she needed help. She nodded, begrudgingly. I gently freed her from the tangled lace. As I helped her up, she muttered something I couldn't catch.
I thought that was it. I was ready to step away—until she grabbed my hand.
She guided it back to her, turning her back toward me again as she faced the mirror. I watched in disbelief as her fingers guided mine, silently asking for help undressing. My hands trembled. The corset dropped. Then her gown.
I was fixated only on her face in the mirror, refusing to look anywhere else.
What was this strange heat rising in my chest? Was it only me... or was something shifting between us?
Scene POV (Film Production)
The moment Becky's hand touched Freen's skin, Freen flinched. A sudden warmth flooded her body. Becky noticed—but didn't let it show, continuing her performance. Still, she couldn't stop her hand from trembling.
Freen had stood frozen for several seconds, eyes glued to Becky. Becky wasn't sure anymore—was Freen still acting? If she was, then damn, she was convincing. Too convincing.
But no—this couldn't be real. Freen was straight. Maybe she's straight. Maybe that's the truth I have to live with. But then… that night in the parking lot—God, I still think about it. The way she looked at me, the way everything felt so still, so real. But we never talked about it.Not once. And after that, she changed. Not entirely. Just… enough. A little colder. A little more distant...
And I didn't ask. Because maybe I was scared, too.Because maybe I knew she'd pull farther if I pushed. So maybe she is straight.Or maybe she's confused.But I can't push her. I won't push her.
Because if I push,and she walks away again—I'm not sure if I can take that.
So I'll keep pretending I don't remember.I'll keep convincing myself it was nothing.
Even if it's everything.
Becky was trying to push those thoughts away, but now it is flowing in her head like a river
Yet Freen, in her mind, was on the brink of doing something dangerously stupid. She'd never looked at Becky like this before. But now... every second of pretending was killing her.
They were supposed to just stare at each other for a few beats.
But they'd gone off-script.
Production staff exchanged glances, unsure whether the scene should be cut. Yet when they looked at Director Wuttapong, they found him... smiling.
Moved.
He even wondered—was something going on between these two off-camera?
Third Person POV
It hurt.
Watching them like that—her looking at Becky like that. She had never looked at me that way.
I clenched the bouquet of flowers in my hand.
I was supposed to surprise her after filming. I'd even gotten help sneaking in, disguised so no one would recognize me.
But now, hidden in the shadows, I could only watch.
Freen's fingers were brushing over Becky's shoulder.
I knew it was acting. But damn—it still hurt.
When did I fall so hard for Freen?
We'd been friends forever. I thought she'd always be by my side. I thought what we had was enough. I was wrong. I didn't realize until now how much I needed her. How deeply I loved her.
But I couldn't face her. Not now.
I left the flowers in her dressing room and walked out of the mansion quietly.
As I entered the parking lot, something caught my eye—a car parked across from mine.
The same one that's been following me for days.
Without hesitation, I jumped into my car and sped off. But they followed.
Heart racing, I took a sharp turn down a dirt road, hoping the rough path would slow them down.
"Come on, come on…" I muttered.
Then—finally—their car sputtered, engine dying.
I let out a breath of relief—until I looked forward again.
A truck.
Coming straight at me.
Too close.
Too fast.
Too late.
Becky's POV
"Okay, steady—cut!" Director Wuttapong's voice snapped us out of it.
I broke eye contact with Freen and instinctively looked down. She immediately grabbed a robe and wrapped it around me before taking a step back. But we didn't look at each other. Not properly.
The silence was awkward. Suffocating.
We just stood there.
"Did you enjoy the view earlier?" I joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
She glanced at me with those empty, unreadable eyes. A flickering smile, faltering at the corners of her lips.
God, why did I even say that?
"I just want this to be over and get you proper clothing," she muttered.
What's that supposed to mean? Was she disgusted? Did she not like what she saw?
"I told them not to include this scene," she added. "But they still made you do it. Perverts."
The way she said it—it made something in my chest stir. Wait, who's the pervert here? Me?
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" I asked, confused.
"Like that." Her voice dropped as she leaned closer, her breath brushing against my ear.
"L-like w-what?" I stuttered.
God, we've been close before. But this... this was different. This was dangerous.
"Get ready, everyone!" The director called out.
Freen turned to me. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
She was talking about the scene. The daring one. The one we didn't even get to rehearse. Freen had fought hard against filming it, but I'd insisted—on the condition that I wouldn't be completely nude.
"It's my decision," I had said.
She hated it. But she respected it.
And now, here we were.
"I'm sure," I said.
Her eyes said more than words ever could. But she stayed silent. She respected me enough not to push further.
"Okay. In 3… 2… 1… Action!"
I took a deep breath.
The cameras rolled.
And I gave myself to the scene—heart pounding.