Freya's guilt

Chapter 14

Freya's POV

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? You look pale and sad. I was expecting your visit yesterday," my mom asked, her voice weak and shaky.

Guilt and pain washed over me as I gazed at her frail form, confined to one position. My strong and intelligent mother, who had always been my rock, now lay vulnerable and helpless.

I felt a crushing sense of guilt for keeping my marriage a secret. My mother would never have allowed me to make such a choice, not after everything we'd been through. She would have protected me from this mess.

I knew I had to save her from the truth, at least for now. She didn't need to know.

"Mom..." I sobbed, overcome with emotion. My mother's condition wasn't improving. Her weakness was alarming.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm such a bad child. Sorry I couldn't visit," I whispered, wiping away tears as she placed her cold, wet hand on mine. I shuddered at her touch.

"Mother, are you okay? Aren't the doctors taking care of you?" I burst into tears again, but my mother's concern wasn't her own health ; it was my tears.

"Baby, why so many tears? And it's late, you should be resting. Naomi told me you got a new job. If it's stressing you out and keeping you away from me, sweetheart, you can quit. I'll be okay," my mother said, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

Her words warmed my heart, and I felt a surge of love and gratitude. Even in her fragile state, her primary concern was still my well-being.

My mother and I had been inseparable since Dad lost his life in a tragic fire accident at work. The company hadn't provided any insurance, leaving us with nothing. Despite this, Mom had worked tirelessly to provide for me and fund my education. I couldn't imagine life without her. The mere thought of it was unbearable; I'd rather die than face a world without my mother.

"No, I'll never stop taking care of you," I said, determination etched on my face. "Even if it drains the last drop of blood from me, I won't lose anyone precious to me again." Tears streamed down my face as I spoke, my voice shaking with emotion.

I knew that watching my mother's deteriorating health wasn't the only reason for my tears. I was devastated by the crushing loneliness that had been suffocating me. I had no one to confide in, no one to share my burdens with.

The weight of my struggles was crushing me. My ex-boss's threats, my feelings of worthlessness, the ache of my broken heart, my mother's failing health, and my son's ignorance about my existence ; it all seemed too much to bear. I felt like I was drowning in despair, and for a moment, I didn't want to live anymore.

But I refused to give up. I vowed to make everyone see me for who I truly was. Michael didn't have to...

"Baby," my mom called, interrupting my reverie. "Let's go to your workplace. No one messes with my daughter. Look at yourself, sweetheart; you've lost weight. I know you've finally healed from Ambrose's abuses, but I don't want you..."

"Mom, please, don't talk about Ambrose. I want to hold him by the neck and squeeze the last life out of him," I said, as my mother's expression changed.

She was probably shocked to see the mean words coming from my mouth. The truth was, I never cursed at anyone. I never said mean words, even after Ambrose betrayed me. But now, I didn't understand why my emotions were taking advantage of me.

"You can talk to me about what's bothering you," my mom said gently.

"Mom, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong," I replied, wiping away tears once more. I noticed my mother's scrutiny on my body, and I guessed she hadn't observed me earlier due to my tears.

"Baby, where did you get those expensive accessories and clothes?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did you...?"

"We had a party at work today, Mother. My boss gave them to me so I could represent the company properly. Nothing much," I said, trying to sound neutral.

I was taken aback by how easily the lie slipped out. I had become quite skilled at deception since meeting Michael.

My mom's expression turned serious. "Be careful, baby," she whispered, squeezing my hand. "It's been three years. You can find someone to love again. It doesn't have to be a billionaire, just a nice man."

Her words stung, and I felt a sharp pain in my chest. I looked away, trying to compose myself.

"Mom, no one's ever going to love me," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Ambrose said so... and it's the truth." The memory of Michael's harsh words still lingered; "You're not my wife." I laughed inwardly, wondering why I'd even think of him at a time like this.

My mom's expression turned gentle. "Baby, you're my precious daughter. If Ambrose said something like that, it's because he's a miserable man. Don't share his misery."

"Then why doesn't he like me?" I blurted out, my temper flaring up. I immediately regretted my outburst, feeling ashamed for snapping at my mom.

"Ambrose?" my mother asked, her voice gentle, as I looked away, avoiding her gaze.

But Ambrose wasn't who I was thinking of when I made that statement. My mind was consumed by Michael ;the way he acted like a crazy man that night, begging me to stay with him. His longing eyes haunted me, and I couldn't shake off the memory.

"Baby, you still think of Ambrose?" my mother asked, her voice laced with concern.

I was speechless, lost for words. I knew I had to be careful, or she'd discover the truth.

"No, I...I...oh no!" I stuttered, trying to deflect her question. It was better to leave it at Ambrose than to risk her discovering the complicated truth about Michael.

"Yes, Mom. He's the father of my son," I said, my voice flat and emotionless, as I looked away.

Her expression turned fiery. "Really? A man like that, an animal. Baby, take a look at your back and stomach. Remember how he inflicted that pain on you. He's a monster, he doesn't deserve an angel like you."

I closed my eyes, feeling guilty for lying to her.

"Move on, Freya. Open your heart again," she whispered, her voice weak but urgent. I nodded softly, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I know you might have probably met someone," she continued. "Forget about Ambrose. Yes, he's the father of your child, but he hurt you. When the time comes, you'll unite with your son. Freya, you're twenty-five. You need a man in your life."

I looked away, avoiding her gaze. Tears began to fall, and I knew I couldn't keep up the lies anymore. It was time to tell her the truth.

"Mom...there's something I...I have something to tell you," I stammered, my voice shaking.

My mom adjusted her frail body, placing a weak hand on my cheek to wipe away my tears.

"Mom, I'm...I'm..." I struggled to find the words.

"Baby...what's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling as she fought back tears.

I took a deep breath, bringing myself to reveal the truth. But before I could continue, the nurse walked in, interrupting us.

"Miss Rogers, there's a man standing outside. He claims to be your husband, Michael Smith," the nurse announced, her voice piercing the air.

I rose from my seat, my face pale, my jaw dropped. My gaze locked onto my mom's, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. She looked at me, waiting for an explanation, her expression not yet tinged with disappointment; she won't believe any word unless I confirmed it

"Baby...what's going on? Who is whose husband?" she asked, her voice gentle but inquiring.

My lips trembled as I struggled to respond. But before I could utter a word, Michael's imposing figure appeared in the hospital hallway, his secretary trailing behind him. His piercing gaze fixed on me, and I avoided eye contact, my heart racing.

As I faced him, his blue eyes still held a captivating power over me. My chest tightened, my heart pounding in my ribcage.

"Good day, ma'am," Michael said, his deep voice confident. "I'm here to take my wife home."

In that instant, I froze, everything came to a standstill.