Chapter 7

“The girl’s name is Fahnareeh Beena Suphaphorn. She’s the youngest among the three,” the teacher explained with a warm, patient smile, gesturing toward the tiny girl with twin pigtails and gleaming, curious eyes. “Beside her is Fastian Bifah Suphaphorn Armstrong, and in front of her is Fosbein Rox Suphaphorn Armstrong, the eldest of the siblings.”

The moment Armstrong fell from the teacher’s lips, Freen’s entire world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat too long.

The air grew denser. Her chest tightened like a vice. The suspicion she had tried to keep buried, locked away with all the pieces of a past she’d rather forget, clawed its way out with brutal force.

She forced her voice to remain steady. “What are their parents’ names?” she asked, almost too calmly for the chaos storming inside her.

The teacher parted her lips to answer, “Re-” but before she could finish, a gentle tug on her sleeve interrupted her.

“I want cookies like my friends,” Fahnareeh said softly, her voice laced with the purest innocence, her eyes shimmering with unfiltered desire.

Freen crouched beside her, masking the turmoil behind her smile. “You want cookies, sweetheart?”

Before Fahnareeh could nod, Fastian stepped between them, arms folded across his tiny chest with a scowl that didn’t belong on a face so young. “Nareeh no talking to you.”

Fahnareeh, loyal as ever, nodded her agreement, lips pressed together stubbornly.

“But,” Freen teased, cocking her head, “I’m the one who brought the cookies. If you want some, you’ll have to tell me your parents’ names.”

“Becbec,” Fahnareeh replied innocently.

“Becbec?” Freen echoed, blinking. The name hit her like a lightning strike straight to the heart.

A ghost from the past. A name she hadn’t heard in years-that nickname.

Her throat dried up instantly.

“Why do you want to know our parents’ names?” Fosbein asked suddenly, stepping in front of his siblings like a little knight, small body radiating fierce protectiveness.

Freen handed over a cookie with a calm nod. “No reason. Here’s one for your sister.”

Fosbein took it politely, eyes watching Freen with a maturity far beyond his years, before gently guiding his siblings toward the indoor play park.

But peace wouldn’t last long.

They had barely entered the play area when they heard the raised voice of an older boy, far too large to be in this zone, yelling at a trembling girl backed into a corner.

Fosbein’s jaw tightened. “Let’s help her.”

“But… he’s big,” Fahnareeh whispered, clutching Fastian’s shirt.

Fastian stood tall-well, as tall as his small frame would allow. “We can fight him. Nareeh, go find a teacher.”

She nodded and ran off, her pigtails flying behind her like ribbons of determination.

Fastian picked up a ball, narrowed his eyes, and smirked mischievously. “Hey, garbage brain!” he yelled. “My mommy says boys who don’t know how to treat girls are garbage. So we’re taking out the trash!”

The boy roared and stormed toward Fastian, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him into the air like a doll. Fastian gasped, feet dangling.

Without hesitation, Fosbein launched forward and kicked the bully-square in the groin.

The older boy cried out and dropped Fastian. Then, red-faced with rage, he shoved Fosbein back and raised his hand, about to strike Fastian.

But the blow never landed.

Because Freen caught his wrist.

Her grip was vice-like. Unforgiving. Her eyes flared with ice-cold fury.

“Why is someone this old doing in the kindergarten zone?” she snapped, her voice echoing with righteous indignation.

The principal stammered, “T-They’re also students here…”

“This area is for under six only! Gates between age zones are supposed to be locked!” Freen’s voice sliced through the hallway like a blade. “How can this happen?”

She barked orders to her friends. “Get the boys to the hospital. Now.”

Then she turned to the principal and shoved the bully forward. “Take action. Call their parents-immediately.”

Freen gently scooped Fahnareeh into her arms, the little girl’s eyes wide with worry.

“Are my brothers okay?” she asked in a trembling voice, her tiny hands clutching Freen’s collar.

“They’re strong,” Freen whispered. “And they’re going to be just fine.”

She carried Fahnareeh through the hospital’s sterile corridors, refusing to leave their side. At her command, the children were moved to a private VIP room.

Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with worry.

Fosbein sat silently on the couch, shoulders trembling, tears running down his cheeks.

Freen knelt beside him. “You’re not hurt… so why the tears?”

Namtan, seated beside him and munching popcorn as if they were watching a movie, added, “Yeah.”

“My mommy’s going to be mad,” Fosbein whispered through his sobs. “I said I’d protect Tian and Nareeh. And Tian got hurt because of me.”

Fastian, ever the rascal, flicked Fosbein’s forehead with a cheeky grin.”Dummy.”

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Freen scolded, scooping him up and trying to guide him to the bed.

But Fastian wriggled free and ran to the sofa, squeezing between his siblings.

Jennie, Namtan, and Tzuyu all stood watching them, a thick tension simmering beneath their worried stares.

Namtan exhaled and finally voiced the question that had been burning in her chest.

“Your mommy’s name is Rebecca Patricia Armstrong, right?”

Fahnareeh nodded without hesitation.

“Wait… then why do you call her Becbec?” Jennie asked curiously.

“That’s mommy’s short name,” Fastian answered.

“Auntie, have you called Mommy yet?” he added, looking at Freen with those big, searching eyes.

Tzuyu narrowed hers. “What about your daddy? What’s his name?”

Silence.

The triplets exchanged glances. Not one of them spoke. A shared uncertainty filled the air like fog.

“Do you not know, or is it just hard to say?” Namtan tried to coax them gently.

Fosbein opened his mouth but paused, voice shaking. “Our daddy…”

He didn’t finish.

Freen saw the confusion and discomfort on their faces-and she hated every second of it.

“Who wants to watch cartoons?” she announced suddenly, clapping her hands to shift the mood.

“Me!” the triplets cheered in unison, glad for the escape.

Freen turned on the TV. “What should we watch?”

“We Bare Bears!” they chimed.

Tzuyu stepped forward. “Freen, we-“

Freen’s hand flew to cover her mouth mid-sentence. Her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.

“Stop questioning them,” she hissed, giving Tzuyu a gentle shove away from the kids.

Then-

A shriek of delight erupted from Fahnareeh. “It’s Mommy! Mommy is on TV!”

Everyone turned to look.

A commercial was playing. Becky-radiant, poised-smiled from the screen.

“This is Mommy’s first time on TV!” Fahnareeh beamed.

“Since when did Mommy act in commercials?” Fosbein asked.

Fastian shrugged. “We can ask her later.”

Freen paused the commercial, heart pounding. “Is this your mommy?”

The triplets nodded, all smiles.

Jennie squinted. “Isn’t that a product not suitable for kids? Why would she agree to be the ambassador?”

Tzuyu frowned. “It’s strange…”

“Oh, please,” Namtan rolled her eyes. “Since when did you care about which products are dangerous or not? You’re being kinda sus.”

“Shut it, Namtan,” Tzuyu muttered.

Jennie crossed her arms. “Aren’t any of you wondering how Becky managed to start a new company after Freen’s company taken over her old company? Freen gave the old company to her college bestie after three months, remember?”

“Oh, that snake,” Namtan groaned. “We all know she loved Freen. Everyone did-except Freen herself. Our girl here trusted her more than her own wife.”

Freen’s face hardened. “You didn’t live in my shoes, Namtan.”

“Whatever,” Namtan muttered, tossing popcorn into her mouth.

But Freen said nothing more.

Because in her chest, that same suspicion from earlier was blooming wildly, thorns piercing into places she hadn’t dared to feel in years.

And deep down… she feared the answer was already written in the triplets’ eyes.