Noah sprinted enthusiastically towards Freya, launching himself into her arms. Freya enveloped him in a tight squeeze, encircling him in a warm, protective haven. The event drew to a close, and Noah eagerly rushed into his mother's arms. The duo entwined themselves in a tender, heartfelt embrace, swept up in a torrent of emotions, as Freya caressed his hair with gentle, soothing strokes. Diego, standing behind Noah, observed the tender exchange of hugs and sweet, lingering kisses. He beamed with satisfaction, relieved that the event had unfolded smoothly, without anyone leaving hurt or disappointed. Finally, Freya released Noah from her loving grasp and cradled his face in her palms, crouching to lock eyes with him in a deep, meaningful connection. “Mom, I hope you enjoyed my poem. I wrote it all by myself for you”, Noah said proudly, a cheerful grin spreading across his face. “Yes honey, I did. I loved it. Thank you so much for writing such a wonderful poem about me. I love
Freya silently observed, in admiration, the way Diego expertly maneuvered his sleek car, handling the steering wheel with finesse. He cracked his window open, allowing the wind to tousle his longish jet-black hair, which surprisingly added to his majestic and captivating presence.Meanwhile, Noah, who was at the backseat, quietly gazed out of the window with wide-eyed curiosity, likely pondering the pedestrians strolling down the sidewalks, the trees blurring past, the notable landmarks, and the cityscape unfolding before him.For the first time, she took a moment to appreciate the interior of his car. The opulent design of his sleek vehicle dazzled her, its immaculate and stylish decor impressing her. She noticed that this particular car differed from the one he had used to drive her to the station the other day. She wondered about the extent of his car collection and his occupation. Curiosity got the better of her as she suddenly felt an urge to glimpse into his lifestyle, his home,
"Any news?”“Yes. And you'll be excited to see what I've just found”.“What is it?”“I'll send you a few photos”.Imelda abruptly ended the call and swiftly searched for the incriminating photos of Freya, Noah, and the mysterious stranger at the restaurant, which she had surreptitiously taken earlier. Upon finding them, she promptly forwarded the images to Desmond's phone number.Desmond, seated on the edge of his bed with his phone in hand, eagerly awaiting the pictures, received a notification on his phone. Imelda had sent him the photos as promised, and he quickly clicked on them, scrutinizing every detail.As he gazed at the images, Desmond's face contorted into a deadly scowl, his eyes blazing with fury, and his fists clenched in rage. He recoiled in stunned disbelief, taken aback by the shocking content of the pictures. Fury welled up inside of him as he gnashed his teeth in irritation.His eyes meticulously scanned the image, and he zoomed in for a clearer view, fixated on iden
Freya's day was exceedingly successful. She basked in an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and amassed an impressive number of sales that day.Ever since she fell out with Imelda, she began to pay her truck driver to pick Noah up from school everyday, significantly alleviating her burden. Everything seemed to be unfolding smoothly and effortlessly for her.As she swept up to the door of Imelda's house, she let out a deep sigh of satisfaction, happy that her life was gradually blossoming into something better compared to when she first moved into that city.She tapped softly but firmly on the door, waiting patiently for Imelda to fling it open and end her wait.“Who is it?” Imelda yelled grumpily from inside.“It's me”, Freya replied dryly and with a hint of exasperation, tired of always having to announce herself and clarify her identity. She wondered why Imelda always asked even though she never had visitors.Freya paused for a few seconds before Imelda flung the door open, fixing
It was Saturday.Freya went about her business, catering to the few customers who showed up to patronize her. Nothing much happened that day and she had resorted to using her food truck business as a therapeutic escape from the turmoil at home. She had been walking on eggshells throughout that week, wary of Imelda's wicked schemes. Imelda said nothing about the debt or the deadline of payment throughout that week and that made her feel a little bit relieved as she hadn't made the full amount yet. Although she had managed to generate a tangible amount, which she struggled to get with much difficulty, it still wasn't enough.As she prepared gourmet burgers, lost in thought, Freya reflected on her numerous problems and shook her head in self-loathing, reproaching herself for accepting Imelda's offer in the first place. She despised her own desperation for clouding her judgment.The catastrophic events unfolding in her life were a nightmare she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.Just as s
Freya sat motionless, observing the way Diego strode about the station, passionately negotiating with the cops on her case and also eagerly awaiting Imelda's arrival. He refused to let her be thrown into a cell like a criminal as he vehemently argued with the cops, his voice rising in indignation. She remained silent throughout, her silence a testament to her shock at Imelda's cruel resolve and also to her discreet admiration for Diego's selfless acts of kindness towards her. She could hear him instruct some of his men over the phone to vigilantly watch over her food truck, which she had left vulnerably open along the roadway. Diego's men, about three in number, stood firmly at the door, as if guarding the room, in anticipation of Imelda's arrival. One of them was his driver who had driven his car to the station. Finally, after a few minutes of waiting, the long-awaited guest arrived, commanding attention. All eyes were fixed on Imelda who majestically walked into the station, wi
Imelda stormed about the living room, her fury propelling her back and forth as she struggled to gather her racing thoughts. Her eyes blazed with intense rage, and she let out a fierce snort, her chest heaving violently.She had just been fooled!She shook her head vehemently in utter disbelief as she recalled the shocking and humiliating conversation she had had earlier with Desmond. After narrating every detail of the unexpected twist at the station to him, how Diego had intervened on Freya's behalf, saving her from the clutches of a jail term, she had demanded her payment from Desmond for her role in ensnaring Freya in debt and hauling her to the station.But Desmond, who got infuriated by her revelation and their failed plans, refused to pay her, insisting that she hadn't completed the job as agreed. He claimed their deal was to leave Freya languishing in jail, with the sole option of crawling back to him in surrender. Since the case hadn't unfolded as planned, Desmond deemed her
Freya stole a worried glance at Noah, who was utterly absorbed in his toy, completely oblivious to the weight of their difficult circumstances. She exhaled a disheartened sigh, fearing that he might be growing weary of their challenging life. They had been sitting for hours under a roadside bench shelter, Freya trying to calculate their next move, her mind racing with possibilities and scenarios. Despite having reassured Noah that everything would be fine and that she had everything under control, Freya couldn't help but silently panic, feeling overwhelmed by the daunting task of finding an affordable apartment that met their needs. Aside from Imelda, Freya had no other acquaintances in the city, and as she sat lost in thought, memories of Diego surfaced— the one person who had always been there for her, consistently proving his unwavering support and care. Just then, a thought crossed her mind. She suddenly felt the urge to call Diego and ask him for help. But she shook off th
The warm, familiar aroma of roasted garlic, simmering sauces, freshly baked bread and the hum of chatter and clinking dishes greeted Freya as she pushed open the glass door of Bayside Bistro. A bell above the entrance jingled softly, announcing her arrival. It was mid-afternoon, and the restaurant was alive with activity: waitstaff gliding between tables, patrons laughing over glasses of wine, and the distant clatter of pots and pans echoing from the kitchen.Freya paused in the doorway, taking it all in. This place was her first step to success, a constant reminder of her triumph, how she had won the breakthrough cooking contest. She had poured her heart into her work here, finding a sense of purpose. Now, she was back to say goodbye. Returning to resign from her position there felt bittersweet, but it was necessary. It was all for the best.She began walking towards the kitchen, to see her soon-to-be ex-colleagues. But she halted abruptly, realizing it was better to see the manag
Freya's car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the newly acquired building for her future restaurant, its sleek crimson-red exterior reflecting the soft late morning sunlight. Majestically, Freya stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she adjusted her charcoal gray overcoat and looked up at the structure before her. Her eyes beamed with joy and a sense of accomplishment, her broad smile radiating an enthusiastic energy. She had finally done it. She had acquired a new building very close to Desmond's corporate headquarters just the day before. Right under Desmond's nose.Her lawyer, Attorney Kim, followed closely behind, clutching a leather portfolio in one hand and a confident smile on her face.“It’s ready,” Kim said, her voice steady and encouraging. She gestured toward the building with a subtle nod. “It’s yours, Freya. Everything you’ve worked for.”Freya’s gaze traveled upward once again, taking in the sight of her future. The building was a beautiful blend of
Desmond sat in his study, a crystal glass of whiskey cradled in his hand. The golden liquid caught the glow of the late Sunday morning sun which filtered into the room through the blinds, casting faint patterns on the polished wood of his desk.His jaw tightened as he stared at the swirling drink, his mind replaying the events of the past weeks. Freya’s haughty indifference, her commanding tone, the way she moved through the house as if she owned it—it was infuriating.With an aggressive motion, he gulped down the entire glass of whiskey, his angry gaze fixed on some point ahead.His hand trembled slightly as he poured himself another drink, the bottle clinking softly against the rim of his glass. The taste of whiskey burned his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown the bitter resentment bubbling inside him.Instead of the meek woman he had once controlled, Freya returned with a defiance that made his blood boil. She was colder now, sharper. She carried herself with an air of power, a
The late-night stillness of the house was broken only by the soft murmur of the television in the living room. Freya sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, her focus seemingly on the sitcom playing on the screen.After assisting Noah with his homework, Freya watched him go to bed early, claiming he was a little burnt out. While she was still in Noah's room, the doctor arrived and attended to Desmond. She knew because she had looked out the window the moment the doctor's car drove into the driveway.After tucking Noah in bed, she returned to the living room to watch some TV while the doctor attended to Desmond.Across the room, Desmond sat stiffly in an armchair, his body weak but his mind racing with several thoughts and questions. The doctor stood beside him, packing up his medical bag after administering medication to counter the allergic reaction.The doctor cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on Desmond. “Mr. Desmond, it’s critical that you avoid any food cont
The heavy creak of the front door echoed through the hall as Desmond stepped inside the house, shrugging off his suit jacket. It had been another long day, filled with meetings and sharp-tongued negotiations. He was looking forward to retreating to the warmth of his room, away from the suffocating formalities of his life.As he loosened his tie and began ascending the staircase, the soft patter of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. One of the maids appeared, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her posture respectful.“Good evening, sir,” she greeted, her voice polite but warm.Desmond nodded curtly, already thinking about the bottle of whiskey waiting for him upstairs. “Evening. Where’s Freya?” he asked casually, though there was an edge to his tone.The maid hesitated briefly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. “Madam is…in the kitchen.”Desmond froze mid-step, slowly turning back to face the maid. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his face was etched
7:17 PM. It was Saturday evening and Diego sat in bed, his laptop open in front of him, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his sullen face. His expansive room was a serene oasis, cozy and intimate, the only sound the soft hum of the laptop and the distant murmur of the TV opposite his bed. The room was dimly-lit, the center chandelier and rays from the TV the only sources of light.The plush, white duvet was rumpled beneath him, and a few pillows were scattered about, evidence of a restless night's sleep.His fingers moved mechanically over the laptop keyboard as he worked, his eyes fixed on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.He couldn't shake off the feeling of hurt and devastation that had been lingering since the day he paid Freya a visit in Desmond's mansion. His mind replayed the cruel manner in which Freya had shut him out, coldly refusing to talk to him without any reason. It was quite obvious she was hiding something, and Diego's mind had been racing with possibi
Freya sat in her dimly-lit room, the muted hum of the city outside barely registering in her mind as her focus stayed locked on the task at hand. The glow from her laptop screen illuminated her sharp features, her expression steely. Her eyes were fixed intently on the laptop screen, her fingers hovered over the keyboard. The plan she had carefully devised over the past few weeks was now in motion, and she felt nothing but satisfaction as she moved to claim what she deserved.Aside from setting herself and Diego free from the legal battles, ensuring the safety and reputation of the ones she loved, another benefit of moving back with Desmond was his vast riches. Yes, his money.When she returned to him, Desmond persuaded her to go back to having a joint account with him, one which would totally be at her disposal. He assured her that she was free to spend however she liked.His assurance and permission to lavish his money however she liked gave her flashbacks. It reminded her of the t
Freya wearily sank into the couch in the living room, staring blankly at the TV screen. The show being displayed on the TV was once her favorite TV show, one she and Diego had enjoyed together. But now, it held no interest to her. Her eyes were sunken and her expression dim. Desmond had gone to work, Noah was at school, and since she hadn't been able to go to work, she was stuck with the boring TV show.The mansion was eerily quiet, with Desmond’s staff moving about in their usual hushed manner. She let out a despondent sigh, her mind wandering as it often did these days.Just then, the doorbell rang and the sound broke her trance. Her brows furrowed slightly as she wasn’t expecting anyone that morning. Visitors were rare, and anyone with business usually went to Desmond's office instead. None of the staff heard the doorbell so Freya volunteered to get the door. Slowly, she rose to her feet and strode towards the door.The minute she opened the door, her heart stopped. Her eyes wid
Freya stepped out of the car and onto the driveway, her heels clicking on the pavement. She was dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, her chestnut hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail — the attire she had put on for work. Despite her polished appearance, exhaustion etched lines on her face, and her eyes seemed to hold a deep-seated weariness.She had gone several places that day, meeting with realtors and potential business partners to set her plans of opening her own restaurant in motion. She also stopped by the food truck at Desmond's workplace to check up on her employee and oversee the activities there. And now, all her energy had been spent.The front door creaked open, and Freya stepped into the dimly lit foyer of the mansion. Right there, before she could take another step, she spotted Desmond.He stood near the staircase, his broad frame slightly hunched, the faintest shadow of hope flickering in his sapphire eyes. "Welcome home, Wife”, he said softly, his voice laced with an