Was it Emma, Bella or Freya

Chapter 5

Freya's POV

What has rain got to do with driving? I wondered, watching Emma's hand on Michael's arm. There was no reason to watch from afar; it wouldn't be a problem to walk over. I wiped away the tears that had mingled with the rainfall as I walked over, with Emma noticing my presence and clinging more tightly to Michael's body. I cared less, after all; there was nothing special between us, and Michael loved her.

"Sweetheart, like I said, I have to drive you," Emma said, reaching for the front seat, when Michael caught her hand, making her stop. "I'm fine... Emma, my wife will drive me," he said with a cold face, staring intensely at her. I closed my eyes, wincing inwardly as I watched them. Michael didn't have to be so hard on himself.

"Drive? She doesn't even look like one who's ever owned a car. Come on, Michael. You wouldn't want to repeat..." Emma's voice trailed off, but Michael's stern tone cut her off.

"Emma!" Michael's warning was sharp, and Emma's eyes flashed with pain. I felt a pang of unease; Emma was partially right. I'd never owned a car, and I'd only learned how to drive with a friend's car. But I shouldn't worry about her. I needn't butt in on their conversation; Michael would take care of it.

I couldn't get my mind off the shocking revelations. Michael's nephew was my precious son, and his stepbrother happened to be my first love. My life was a mess.

"Michael," Emma called, her voice laced with pain, her eyes pleading. The air was thick with tension, and I felt like I was drowning in the turmoil.

"I have to leave, Emma. It's pouring," Michael said, as Emma gave me a venomous gaze. "Just so you know, Michael's mine," she said, touching his cheek before finally leaving.

I heaved a sigh of relief as I glanced at Michael, who had reverted to his usual cold demeanor. I knew he was back to normal; after all, there wasn't an audience. I got into the driver's seat as he sat beside me.

I wondered why he didn't drive in the rain, but I wasn't in a position to ask. Instead, I tried to start a conversation. "Your nephew is such an amazing kid," I said with a smile, my eyes fixed on the road. The rain was getting heavier, and Michael's face was growing colder.

"You know, I've always loved little children. While I was growing..."

"Miss Rogers, I think you're forgetting something," Michael interrupted, his voice icy. "Right now, there's no audience. You don't have to act like we're friends. We both know what we want." He paused, looking at me. "Besides, accidents happen in times like these. Your full attention should be on the road and nowhere else."

I nodded, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as I bit my lower lip. I was foolish to think he'd play along. What was his problem, anyway? Didn't he have anyone he considered a friend? Why were they all so arrogant and rude?

I watched as Michael turned on the music, filling the awkward silence. "Miss Rogers, I bet a toddler would drive better than you. Your driving skills are a mess," he spat, as I continued to hit potholes.

"The rain and..." My sentence was interrupted by a loud thud that hit the car. I froze, my eyes widening. "Miss Rogers, what was that?" Michael asked, fear written all over his face.

This momentary lapse in his composure brought a smile to my lips, but he looked helpless right now. "Wait here while I'll go check," I said, trying to leave, but he suddenly grabbed my hand, holding me back.

"Wait here, I'll go check," he said, his eyes locked on mine. He tried to open the door, but he struggled. I wondered why he hated the rain so much.

"Oh my God! It's a branch. I guess it broke from the tree due to the wind," I said, getting out of the car. The rain poured down on me as I tried to remove the branch, but it was too heavy.

"Never mind it. Get in the car; as the car moves, it will definitely fall off. After all, your driving skills should help," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. I smiled, taking it as a compliment, even though he didn't smile.

I got back in the car, trying to start the ignition, but it wouldn't budge. The car was stuck. "Mr. Smith, we're stuck," I said.

"Hell no! You've got to be kidding me," he exclaimed, as I continued trying to start the car.

"We'll have to call for help," I said, as he nodded, bringing out his phone. But there was no network.

"Why does this scene look so familiar?" I said, my voice trembling slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, as I shivered from the cold.

"Like the beginning of a horror movie," I whispered, shivering and gritting my teeth. Michael remained silent, his eyes fixed on some point outside the car. We sat helplessly, trapped by the torrential rain. A push to the car would have helped, but Michael couldn't stand the rain, and the car was too heavy for me to push alone.

Michael might have been the world's coldest person, but he was also the world's loneliest and most vulnerable person ever. His facade crumbled, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath.

"What do we do? The rain doesn't seem to stop, and there's no signal," I whispered, closing my eyes, still shivering. The red gown I wore offered little protection against the cold.

"Put this on," Michael said, handing me his Armani jacket.

"No, you don't have to..."

"Don't flatter yourself, Freya. You need this, and not because I actually want to," he said, his tone icy.

For a moment, I forgot the mean words and clung to the fact that he had just called me by my first name ; something he had never done before. "Oh, thank you," I said, receiving the jacket as he looked away.

"We'll stay here for a while till the rain stops, then I can push the car or we ask for help," he said. I nodded, watching as he flattened the back seat of the car to sleep.

I was scared; it was pouring, and dark. Michael couldn't help anyone in a situation like this. I realized he had fallen asleep; I couldn't. Someone had to stay awake at least.

I stared at him, wondering why a man as innocent as this would have so many secrets and a cold attitude. It had been forty minutes since he slept, and the rain showed no signs of stopping.

Michael began to moan in his sleep ; a deep, anguished moan. "Mr. Smith, are you okay?" I called, not touching him for fear he might get mad.

"Mr. Smith..." I called again as he continued to moan and grunt. The car was cold, but he was dripping with sweat.

"Mr..." I got frightened by his loud scream. Now, he was grabbing my shoulders with the most pitiful gaze.

"Bella," he called, as I froze. Who was Bella again? I thought it had always been Emma.

"Bella, I'm sorry. Sorry I couldn't...say how much I loved you. I miss you," he said in a cracked voice, as I tried to free myself. I wasn't Bella; I was his worst enemy.

"Mr. Smith!" I called, wondering what might have happened to him and how bad his past must have been.

"Bella...I..."

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith," I called, shaking him, but he was a goner.

"Michael!!" I screamed, as I noticed a change in him. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at me with a piercing and unsettling gaze.

"Please...don't leave me, stay with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. His gaze held mine, and for a moment, I felt like he was staring into my soul. I wondered whom he saw when he said that. Was it Emma, Bella, or Freya?