Seducing My Ex's Girlfriend || BeckFreen [Completed]

Chapter 88

Freen was totally right. She practically twisted my arm to get me to join her in Spain, all while leaving my poor son behind. I had to lean on Saint and ask him to take care of Becken for a while, since we're neck-deep in this major project that can't be ignored.

Becken, being the understanding kid that he is, gave me a bittersweet goodbye. It hit me hard because this was the first time I'd be apart from him for such a long time. Mariel filled me in that this project was a mammoth and we won't be back home anytime soon—like, more than half a year.

Fast forward, here I am at the airport, waiting for Freen and the rest of the gang to show up. But guess what? Only one solitary figure heads my way.

"Where's the others?" I questioned her, raising an eyebrow.

"No clue. Maybe their flight's scheduled for tomorrow. Come on," Freen grabbed my hand and yanked me along.

In my head, alarm bells are ringing. I mean, this project is kind of a big deal, right? Shouldn't everyone be punctual? Is she feeding me another line of bull?

Hours later, we finally touch down and the staff haul us to this massive house that's meant to be our home for the next half a year. It's big enough for a small army—like, more than ten people.

I start by sorting out my stuff in the office area before trotting off to find my bedroom. Guess who's there too, fiddling with my stuff and hers? You guessed it, Freen.

"What's the deal, Sarocha?" I shoot her a quizzical look. "And why are you invading my sleeping quarters? Don't you have your own?"

"This is our room, Becca. Why would I sleep anywhere else?" She retorts, iciness in her tone, and just keeps at it. "Chill, we've got two beds."

I roll my eyes, walk to the kitchen, and dial up Saint to check on Becken. No answer. Probably busy in work, I thought.

Evening sets in, and I contemplate rustling up some dinner. I pause for a sec, wondering whether I should cook something for Freen too. She's probably starving, right? But what if she hates my cooking? She'll probably still eat it, though.

"So we're okay, we're fine. Baby, I'm right here to stop your crying~" I saint while stirring the ingredients around, even giving my hips a little wiggle to the beat.

"Chase all the ghosts from your head. I'm stronger than the monster beneath your bed~" I keep going, stirring away.

"Smarter than the tricks played on your heart. We'll look at them together and we'll tear them apart~" I hum, taking a breather. "Adding up a total of a love that's true. Multiply life by the power of two~" I grab the ladle like a mic, grinning.

Suddenly, hands encircle me, and I jolt, nearly dropping everything. I quickly distance myself.

"What the heck? You trying to give me a heart attack?" I blurt, clutching my chest. "If I were your dad, I'd be in the graveyard already, Sarocha!" I scolded her.

"I don't sneak up on my dad like that," she snickers, flicking my forehead playfully. Then she peeks at the pot and raises an eyebrow. "No way, porridge after a long flight? Seriously?" She grumbles, inspecting the fridge's sad, empty contents—just some beers and juice.

"Now you get why I'm cooking porridge? Scoot, I'm starving." I shove her aside and resume my culinary masterpiece.

"Let's eat out," she suggests.

I spin around, shaking my head. "Nah, not feeling it. This ain't a romantic dinner date, in case you missed the memo. So off you go, and let me devour my porridge in peace." I flash her a fake smile.

"Fine," she mumbles and exits.

"Wait, that's it? No more nagging?" I question, watching her retreat.

I sigh, glancing at my porridge with a bittersweet grin. Looks like it's just us for dinner tonight.

SAROCHA! YOU SNEAKY DEVIL!