Marrying You is A Mistake

The morning sun filtered through Freya's bedroom window, casting a warm, golden glow on her face as she gracefully awakened to the promise of a new day. The night before had passed uneventfully, and Freya nodded nonchalantly, a serene indifference enveloping her as she contemplated the well-being of her estranged husband. The impending divorce, once a heavy burden, now seemed to have lifted the weight of their shared history from her shoulders.

Having slept peacefully, unencumbered by the worries of losing Clement, Freya arose to the gentle melody of her morning alarm, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. The sun seemed to dance on the walls of her opulent villa, the sky—which she only now noticed as she was busy burying her face on her pillows to hide her puffy eyes for crying all night.

Glancing at the breakfast table, Freya's lips curled into a contented smile at the prospect of indulging in her preferred American breakfast. In the past, she had gracefully accommodated Clement's penchant for a traditional English morning repast. However, in this moment of emancipation, she reveled in the simple joy of savoring the flavors that resonated with her own taste.

As Freya approached the dining table, the inviting aroma of fresh coffee and the delectable scent of pancakes and crispy bacon embraced her senses. Melinda greeted her with a warm smile. Their laughter reverberated through the air, filling the room with a sense of camaraderie that transcended the roles of employer and employee.

"Good morning, Melinda," Freya chimed, her voice carrying the melody of freedom. "What delightful breakfast do we have today?"

Melinda chuckled, her eyes crinkling with genuine affection. "Well, Madam, I thought we'd start the day with some fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, and your favorite freshly brewed coffee. Seemed like a perfect American breakfast kind of morning, don't you think?"

Freya's eyes lit up with delight, grateful for the thoughtful gesture. "Absolutely. I missed enjoying my American breakfast. No more compromises, just the way I like it!"

They spent that crisp morning wrapped in the light of laughter and the warmth of candid conversations. After Freya's meeting with Erin to discuss a potential client, she felt a surge of courage to bare it down in one go. Uncorking a bottle of wine, she decided it was time to delve into the intricacies of her divorce and the daunting alimony that Clement had demanded. The presence of the older woman, Melinda, proved to be a fortunate solace.

As a seasoned lawyer who felt confident defending in the court, Freya was not known to take advices since she was the one who gave them to her clients. However, that morning, she was very much willing to take whatever the older woman was willing to give. The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a gentle glow on the table where they sat, and as Freya shared the intricacies of her tumultuous divorce, she realized the value of the five decades of life experience that Melinda brought to the conversation.

In a role reversal that felt surprisingly liberating, Freya discovered herself as the eager recipient of advice, humbled by Melinda's wisdom and the genuine lack of haughtiness in her demeanor. The air between them buzzed with the clinking of glasses and the unspoken understanding that, in this moment of vulnerability, Freya was not alone.

“Thank you so much for your time, Aunt Melinda,” Freya said warmly.

“No problem, little Miss. Whenever you need something, don’t hesitate to call Old Mel.”

Freya smiled. “Oh, c’mon. You’re barely old!”

“Oh, you.” The old maid playfully swatted her hand. “Well, you need to get dress now or you’ll be late. You said that you have a meeting with “Miss Erin, right?”

“Oh, crap. I nearly forgot. I’ll leave you to it, Aunt, okay? I will get ready now.”

It took her an hour or so to prepare and dress. As Freya stood before the mirror, preparing to face the day, she assessed her reflection with a discerning eye. Dressed in a professional yet stylish ensemble befitting her role as a lawyer, she exuded a blend of confidence and sophistication.

Freya's tailored black blazer, adorned with a subtle pinstripe pattern, accentuated her slender figure. Paired with a knee-length, charcoal gray pencil skirt, the outfit struck a perfect balance between professionalism and contemporary flair. A crisp, white button-down shirt underneath added a touch of classic elegance, complemented by a silver pendant necklace that dangled subtly against the fabric.

Her well-manicured hands, adorned with a few simple silver rings, held a leather briefcase containing the essential documents for the day. Freya's choice of black, high-heeled pumps added a subtle power stance to her demeanor, the one she worked so hard to maintain.

Taking a moment to appreciate her appearance, Freya acknowledged the soft waves cascading down her shoulders, a result of a deliberate yet effortlessly chic hairstyle. Her makeup was understated yet polished, emphasizing her features without overshadowing her natural beauty. A sweep of mascara highlighted her expressive eyes, and a touch of rosy lipstick added a hint of color to her lips.

“I’m ready,” she said to herself, and walked out the room.

Walking towards her car, Freya dropped her briefcase at the passenger’s and effortlessly maneuvered the car out the garage. She then drove heading Bistro Alfresco, where Erin originally scheduled her to meet one of the legal representatives from Devereux Conglomerate.

The sunlit coffee shop echoed with the soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of cups as Freya entered. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Anticipating a meeting with Erin, she was taken aback when she saw a familiar face instead.

"Kit?" The word escaped Freya's lips, a mixture of surprise and disbelief as her eyes met his.

"Frey!" Kit's face lit up, and he rose from his seat, causing nearby patrons to glance curiously. With an infectious energy, he closed the distance between them, enveloping Freya in a warm, tight hug. "I miss you! Long time no see!"

Freya's initial surprise melted into a radiant smile as she returned the embrace, feeling the genuine warmth of an old friend. The familiarity of Kit's presence brought a rush of memories, and she could not help but reciprocate with a tight squeeze before they let go of the hug.

“Kit, how are you? You looked great.”

“Well, you’re the one to speak,” he said with a boyish smile. “You literally haven’t aged. How’s life?”

“Good as new leaf. I am so happy that you’re here. You’re working in the Devereux now, huh?”

The man, sporting an impish grin, leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his tousled hair as they settled into a cozy corner of the coffee shop. The ambiance was filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, complementing the muted chatter and gentle hum of background music.

Freya could not help but notice the mischievous glint in Kit's eyes, a familiar sight that brought back memories of their mutual history way back their law residency.

As they delved into conversation, the man's animated gestures punctuated their discussion. His hands swirled in the air, adding flair to his stories, and occasionally, he'd punctuate a point by tapping the tabletop with an infectious energy. Freya found herself caught up in the lively exchange, completely unaware of the man perched discreetly inside a sleek, black car parked near the coffee shop who surveilled Freya's every move. With tinted windows concealing his identity, the observer sat in silent vigilance, peering through the glass at Freya and Kit engaged in conversation.

From the shadows of the car's interior, the watcher noted every detail meticulously—the rise and fall of Freya's laughter, the animated gestures she exchanged with Kit, and the genuine warmth in her expressions. A small, sophisticated camera lens protruded subtly from the dashboard, capturing the nuances of their interaction.

"Subject engaged in lively conversation, showing no signs of suspicion," he reported in hushed tones, keeping his eyes fixed on Freya through the windshield.

On the other end of the line, a commanding voice responded, "Maintain your position. I need real-time updates on any noteworthy developments."

*

(Copy, Sir.)

The call was cut off.

“Bloody hell!”

Clement's frustration swelled, exacerbated by a phone call from his hired surveillance operative who discreetly trailed Freya. The report painted a picture of her animated conversation with a man, igniting a spark of jealousy within him.

As Clement lurked in the shadows, unseen and unheard, the sight of Freya's radiant smile in the company of another man fueled his inner turmoil. Unbeknownst to her, Clement grappled with a maelstrom of emotions—regret, resentment, and an unsettling question about her true feelings for him.

“The hell are you doing, Iyah?” he muttered under his breath. “So eager to run into another man’s arms, huh?”