The paramedics arrived at the scene and burst into the room only to see the unconscious man who lay in Freya's arms. As they began to prepare their first aid supplies. Freya's sobs grew louder, her body shaking with convulsive grief. She felt like she was losing the love of her life, and she couldn't bear the thought of living without him. As she held him in her arms, she felt a sense of desperation wash over her. She didn't want to accept the fact that he might be gone. She held him tighter, as if she could will him back to life.Her face was red with anguish, and her eyes puffy from crying. She couldn't bear to say goodbye. Her heart was wrenched, and her spirits dampened. Right before the paramedics took Diego away, Freya gently placed her fingers on his wrist, feeling for a pulse. At first, she couldn't detect anything, and her heart sank in despair. But then, after a while of patience, she felt a faint, weak pulse beating.Her heart leaped with a sense of relief and hope — he was
Freya dug her fingers into Noah's hair, clutching his head as their embrace grew deeper and more desperate. She crouched down, pulling him even closer to her.As Noah buried his face in her chest, Freya felt a dampness seeping through her clothes from his eyes. “Don't cry, my love. I'm here now. Mommy's here. There's no need to be scared, okay?” Freya said in a soft whisper, stroking his back gently.Noah responded with a sniffle, his chest heaving intensely as he tried to fight back his tears. Desmond, on the other hand, stood still behind Noah, his hands still in his pockets.His expression was neutral, yet his eyes revealed he was weary of their overt display of a soul bond, like they were the only mother and son in the whole world. He constantly rolled his eyes subtly, waiting patiently for Freya to finally notice him.Freya planted a final kiss on Noah's cheek before releasing him from her embrace. Gently, she cradled his face in her palms and looked directly at his face, her ey
The waiting room was quiet except for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of papers at the reception desk. The atmosphere was still, the kind of quiet that felt heavy and unnatural.Freya sat stiffly in one of the hard plastic chairs, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. Her eyes kept darting to the double doors of the emergency unit at the far end of the room, every nerve in her body tense. Diego’s life was behind those doors, and the uncertainty was suffocating.She felt like she was holding her breath, afraid to let it out in case it broke the fragile silence. Her emotions were spilled all over, tears welling up in her eyes. She had promised herself she wouldn't shed tears anymore and that Diego was going to survive. However, the feeling of self-pity washed over her as she reflected on all she had faced alongside her loved ones in just one day.Noah sat beside her, his small legs swinging just above the floor. His face was pale, his usual spark di
As Freya settled back into her seat, trying to focus on the relief of Diego’s survival, Desmond’s phone suddenly buzzed, shattering the deafening silence.Desmond pulled his phone out, glanced at the screen, and furrowed his brow, making a show of standing up and stepping away.“Yeah?” he answered, his voice pitched just loud enough for them to hear. Freya and Noah exchanged uncertain glances before returning their gazes to Desmond once again.A short moment passed before Desmond nodded, his expression shifting to what Freya recognized as his version of “concern.” “What? Now? Alright, I’ll handle it.”He ended the call abruptly and slipped the phone into his pocket, turning back toward Freya and Noah. Then he gave a small, almost theatrical sigh.“I’ve got to go. Work emergency,” he said, the words almost too casual for the supposed urgency in his tone. “I’ll have to leave. Keep me posted on Diego.”His voice carried that familiar blend of arrogance and feigned importance, which trig
4:17 AMFreya gently twisted the door knob and cracked the door open. Before stepping in, she scanned the hospital room where Diego lay. Letting out a silent sigh, she stepped into the room, ushering Noah in. Then she gave a slight nod to the nurse who accompanied her as if asking for privacy. The nurse got the message and left, shutting the door behind her. The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Freya's eyes misted, her hand steadying Noah's as they approached the bed. Diego lay unconscious, his skin pale against the stark white sheets. An IV drip snaked down to his arm, and there was a pulse oximeter sensor clipped on his index finger. She had prepared herself for this moment, but the reality of seeing Diego like this was far more painful than words could convey.Freya's heart sank, and her face reddened in anguish. The sight of Diego's helpless state stole Freya’s breath, but it was Noah who let out a soft, broken cry.His grip on her hand
7:23 AMFreya stirred slightly, her neck stiff and aching from where she had fallen asleep. She had slumped over in the hard chair with her head resting on the edge of Diego's hospital bed, her fingers curled loosely around his hand.The faintest movement beneath her palm made her brow furrow in confusion. Being half-awake, she shifted slightly, brushing it off as a trick of her tired mind. Then drowsily, her eyes sank downwards as she began to drift off to sleep once again.But then it happened again—a soft, deliberate squeeze on her fingers. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and her mind, still heavy with exhaustion, struggled to make sense of what she was feeling at the moment.The sterile white of the hospital room came into focus, and her heart thumped hard as she lifted her head, her disheveled chestnut hair falling around her face. Her gaze fell on the source of the touch — Diego's hand which was intertwined with hers. Just then, Diego’s fingers moved again, wrapping weakly ar
The hospital room fell silent, the faint beep of machines and the occasional footsteps of nurses across the hallway the only sounds heard. Freya sat beside Diego’s bed, carefully cutting a piece of toast into small, manageable bites. She had pulled a tray of hospital food, which contained a mix of bland oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and the toast, and balanced on a table close to his bed.Diego watched her closely with a small, amused smile, though his face was still pale from the injuries he was healing from."You don’t have to do this, Freya", he whispered, his voice soft but husky.Freya looked up from the food tray, her gaze meeting his tired eyes. "Of course, I do. Why not?" she said gently, spearing a piece of egg with the fork. "You’re still weak, and I’m not about to let you starve because hospital food isn’t exactly gourmet."He chuckled weakly, the sound more of a breath than a laugh. "Yeah, I’d rather be fed by you than eat this myself. Makes it taste good”, he said, his gaze s
Freya rushed out of the hospital, the crisp morning air swirling around her. She didn't know exactly where to find Desmond, but she knew he was never far when chaos unfolded, always watching from the shadows and pulling the strings in secret.Today, she wouldn’t let him hide. Today, it ended—once and for all. And she had to do something quick. What if Desmond decides to strike again and eventually succeeds in killing Diego? What if Diego doesn't survive Desmond's next attack?She strode quickly to the parking lot where her driver had parked her car, waiting patiently for her. Earlier that morning, after Diego woke up, she had summoned her driver to get her car to the hospital where she was.Freya's calm facade crumbled, her jaw tightened, and her eyes burned with determination. She was going to find Desmond wherever he was hiding.She was the reason Diego had nearly died. If it wasn't because of her, Desmond wouldn’t have thought about hurting Diego or Noah. And now, she was going to
Diego stopped a few feet away, tilting his head. A sly smile was plastered on his face, and he locked hands with Freya, who mirrored his smile."Well, well," he mused, his voice laced with satisfaction. "What do we have here?”In unison, Freya and Diego laughed, deliberately jeering at Desmond. Diego shook his head, reveling in Desmond's misery.“We finally meet again. After a long while”, he went on, his grip on Freya's hand tightening possessively. “But this time, I'm the one laughing and you…whatever this is.” He shoved his hands in the air, making mocking gestures at Desmond, while staring at him in a condescending manner. Desmond's face was contorted with rage, but he said nothing.“I have to say, Desmond—I never thought I’d see the day," Diego added.Desmond’s fists clenched, his eyes blazing with hatred and rage. He couldn't take the insults anymore. Enough was enough. "You son of a…""Careful," Diego cut in smoothly, a vicious glint in his eyes. "You're not exactly in a posit
Desmond went still. He stared down the barrel of the gun, his breath coming hard and fast. The metallic scent of the warehouse mixed with the faint oiliness of the weapon, the cold steel mere inches from his forehead.Freya's eyes pierced deep into his soul, her hand steady, unwavering. Her expression was sterner than before, her jaw stiff with determination. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation in her stance, not a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She didn't seem angry. She was unnervingly calm, and that was what unsettled Desmond.For the first time since this confrontation began, he felt something creeping into his chest, something foreign—fear.She meant it. This wasn't a bluff.Freya raised a brow slightly, her voice smooth, almost bored as she spoke.“Why don't you spare your life and sign these?” she mused, nodding towards the divorce papers beside him. “Losing your life while I still get the separation I need to move on is gonna be a win-win for me.”Desmond swallowed hard, his Ada
A dull persistent throb pulsed behind Desmond's eyes as he stirred from unconsciousness. His body felt heavy, weighted down by something tight and unyielding. There was a pressure against his wrists, his shoulders aching from an unnatural position.The first thing he noticed was the cold. It seeped into his skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of unconsciousness. He inhaled sharply, only to be met with the pungent smell of damp concrete, rusted metal, and oil lingering thick in the air.A faint dripping sound echoed somewhere in the distance, rhythmic and taunting. His senses sharpened, but his mind was sluggish, still clawing its way out of the haze.With effort, Desmond's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze unfocused at first. The dim light hanging overhead burned his retina, making him squint.The world was blurred at first, shifting between shadow and light. After a few seconds, he began to get a clearer picture of his surroundings.The space around him stretched wide and empty, the
Desmond looked away, inwardly battling with indecision—whether to believe her or not. He took a deep breath, his mind racing.On the other hand, Freya watched him closely, her gaze unwavering. His tired eyes spoke volumes about his intoxicated state. He was getting tipsier than before. And it was time to act.Freya tilted her head, her lips curving into a soft, understanding smile. “I know you're overwhelmed and can't seem to believe me. And that's understandable. I've practically ruined your life,” Freya said softly, her eyes locked onto his. She paused briefly, allowing her words to sink in. Then she let out a deep sigh and went on. “But people change, Desmond. You claimed you were a changed man, right? So why can't I claim I'm a changed woman as well?” Her voice was low and soft, but a hint of sarcasm was hidden in it.Desmond stared hard at her, reflecting on her words. His expression was a softer version of the skeptical mask he wore. And Freya smiled inwardly, realizing he was
9:32 PMThe hum of the engine was the only sound breaking the silence inside Freya’s car. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she stared through the windshield. Outside, the city lights shimmered, coupled with the lights coming from the inside of Desmond's office building, casting a pale glow over the darkened streets. The building loomed tall and ominous in Freya's rearview mirror, its shadow stretching across the pavement like a veil.Freya’s heart hammered against her chest as she adjusted her rearview mirror to get a better view of Desmond's movements. She had been waiting patiently for him to retire home, watching him closely in order to decide her next course of action.Just then, she saw him exit the building, his silhouette sharp under the yellow glow of the streetlights. He walked with the same arrogance she despised so much, his leather shoes clicking against the pavement. He was on the phone, his voice muffled but animated, likely barking or
“Evening, husband.”Freya's voice was thick with sarcasm, and her lips curved into a smirk. Without giving Desmond a chance to speak, she stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over the mess he had made.The acrid stench of whiskey flooded her senses, making her grimace in disgust. She turned away, scrunching up her nose to fight the nausea it triggered. “What's that smell?” she mumbled, her face contorted with displeasure.Desmond fixed her with a deadly stare, his eyes blazing with unrestrained rage. “Why are you here?” he spat, leaning forward.Freya stared hard at the shattered pieces of glass, infused into the nasty pool of golden liquid on the floor. Her brows furrowed in a frown, and she shook her head in pity."Really, Desmond?" she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Breaking bottles and shouting at doors? How…predictable."Desmond’s eyes darkened, his rage momentarily stunned into silence by the audacity of her presence. He watched as she walked further into the
Desmond sat alone in his dimly lit study, the amber glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the mahogany furniture. The air reeked of whiskey and regret. His hand trembled as he brought the glass to his lips, but the drink did little to dull the bitter thoughts swirling in his mind. He leaned back in the leather armchair, his eyes drifting shut. Freya. Her name alone sent a wave of anger coursing through his veins. His jaw tightened as he replayed the events of the past months in his mind. It was certain that Freya’s schemes had been meticulously calculated and set into motion long before she returned to his house. She couldn't have possibly just woken up one day and chosen violence. Who knew what had been going through her head for months now?She had walked back into his life as someone hardened, vengeful, and utterly fearless, not as the meek woman he had once controlled. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the golden liquid catch the light. The burn of alcoh
Diego sat back in his executive swivel chair, a small cup of coffee in his hand. His professional attire was a perfect contrast to the warmth of his triumphant grin. The sun poured in through the window walls, casting golden light over the rich wood and steel accents of the room. The television in his sleek office played the breaking news on every major channel. The headlines blared across the screen: "Corporate Scandal: Freya July Sells Major Stake in Dexus Innovations to Rival Competitor!" The accompanying footage showed reporters scrambling outside Desmond's towering headquarters, desperate for a comment, while stock market analysts discussed the fallout of Freya's calculated move.Diego took a tiny sip of the warm liquid in his mug, his eyes glued to the TV, as if savoring every word the reporters said."...a shocking betrayal by Freya July, Desmond's wife, who has sold a substantial portion of her shares to RavenTech Industries, one of Dexus Innovations’ fiercest competitors," t
The morning air in the city was crisp, carrying the faint hum of activity that grew louder with each passing hour. The glass façade of Dexus Innovations shone in the sunlight, casting a long shadow over the busy streets below. And inside, the tension was palpable. The grand ballroom on the twenty-fifth floor had been transformed into a stage for a high-stakes event. Rows of chairs lined the room, facing an imposing podium framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city skyline. A team of technicians moved swiftly, adjusting microphones and ensuring the lighting was perfect. Journalists were already streaming in, setting up their equipment and chatting in low tones as they speculated about the announcement that had drawn such a crowd. Desmond had spent the morning pacing his office, his mood growing darker with each passing minute. Freya’s announcement had come with little warning, just a cryptic notification sent to his inbox the night before. He hated s