Marrying You is A Mistake

Reconnecting with Kit at Bistro Alfresco, Freya found herself drawn to the idea of a fresh start. The garments she brought from her previous marital life with Clement held the heavy imprint of memories she wished to shed. A compelling call for a fresh beginning, coupled with the encouragement from her discussions with Erin and Melinda, ignited a spirited desire for independence. Perhaps, more.

And so she went shopping for basic essentials, to start.

The bustling shopping district welcomed Freya with myrial of thrill, The air was charged with the anticipation as she explored boutiques and stores.

Freya entered the lively shopping district, relishing the excitement of solo shopping, realizing it's been so long since she last shopped by herself. The air buzzed with anticipation as she browsed through boutiques and stores. Freya's choices mirrored her evolving identity—each piece carefully selected to redefine her wardrobe and, in turn, her sense of self.

From formal to casual blouses, pants of various cuts and styles, coats, jackets, protective layers and cardigans, undergarments, dresses and even shoes.

As Freya moved from aisle to aisle, the act of choosing became more of an escape than an errand.

Now, I get to choose clothes that align with my style and preferences, free from the constraint of dressing to impress Clement's old-fashioned sensibilities, she thought.

The evening shadows stretched across the villa when Freya, laden with shopping bags, reached her home like some giddy teenager. With a warm smile, she handed over a few items from her shopping spree as a gesture of appreciation.

"Take these, Aunt Mel," Freya insisted when the older woman initially declined. "You deserve a little treat."

"Thank you, Ma'am. You're too kind," Melinda replied, her hands gently cradling the gifts.

Later that night, Freya began organizing the newly acquired additions to her wardrobe. As she carefully arranged each piece, a wave of panic swept over her.

"Crap, where is it?" she muttered.

Her mother's necklace was conspicuously absent. The realization tightened around her chest, and a sense of urgency compelled her to retrace her steps.

Concern etched on her face, Freya approached Melinda, her voice reflecting a mixture of worry and determination.

"Aunt Mel, did you happen to see a necklace?"

"What necklace is that? You have many."

"Uhm, the one I always wear. It's a simple silver necklace with sapphire. The one Mother gave me?"

The old woman, ever perceptive, shook her head. "No, Ma'am. But I'll help you look for it. Where do you think you might have left it? Have you tried to look at your drawer?"

She shook her head. "I must have dropped it or left it somewhere."

Feeling a sense of gratitude for Melinda's willingness to assist, Freya considered her options. "I haven't wore it eversince I left—" and then she paused. "It might be in our room."

"At Clement's?" Sensing her anxiety, Melinda offered. "I'll come with you, Ma'am."

"N-No. No, it's okay. I'll go and check. Thanks, Aunty."

"Are you sure?"

Freya only smiled, and grabbed her coat along with her keys before driving back to the Von Iver's. The guard immediately recognized her car and let her in. She wasted no time and marched forward the door heading upstairs towards the master's.

As Freya cautiously entered their bedroom, the atmosphere seemed charged with an unspoken tension. The room, a repository of memories both bitter and sweet, held secrets that echoed in the recesses of her mind.

To her astonishment, Clement stood there, his figure bathed in the muted light. In his hands, he cradled the watch she had once gifted him on their 1st anniversary–the Tudor Black Bay Chrono watch—the same broken watch she hid along with her jewelries.

A hush descended upon the room, punctuated only by the rhythm of their breaths. Freya's throat tightened as she observed Clement, who seemed immersed in deep contemplation.

Clement, unaware of Freya's presence, cast a glance at the watch, his expression a mosaic of conflicting sentiments.

Feeling a lump forming in her throat, Freya finally spoke, her voice a fragile thread in the charged silence.

"Clement? What are you doing here?"

Clement's gaze shifted to Freya, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. All the emotions in his face vanished in an instant, replaced by the usual annoyance that he liked to throw her way.

"I should be asking that," he muttered sarcastically. "I thought you don't like being here."

It's true, she almost blurted out.

"I'm here for something personal."

Clement tossed the watch he was recently holding with care to the dresser. His eyes narrowed as he noticed her indifferent gaze while looking at the broken watch he had thrown onto the dressing table. It was a watch she had glued back together instead of discarding it.

He could not help but criticize her for keeping such a broken item in his villa, his frustration evident. "Why do you insist on keeping this useless thing around, Iyah?"

Don't call me that.

She responded with a twitching mouth, her voice edged with a subtle sarcasm. "If you don't like it, throw it away. It's not like I care."

The realization hit Clement like a punch to the gut—she no longer cared about the watch that once held sentimental value for both of them. Fueled by jealousy and anger, he accused Freya of readily agreeing to the divorce because she had already started dating other men.

The nerve of this man?

But instead, she looked at him with a blank stare. Freya, unfazed, smiled and shrugged off his accusations. "Believe whatever you want, Clementine."

Ignoring him, Freya briskly walked to the dressing table, her fingers quickly retrieving a small necklace box. She avoided eye contact with Clementine, who was seething with anger.

"What's so important that you can't even talk to me?" he snapped, reaching out and grabbing Freya's wrist forcefully.

Confused by his sudden aggression, Freya questioned his motives, wondering why she hadn't noticed this unpredictable behavior before.

She winced, but her face remained impassive. "I need some time alone. Can't you understand that?"

"Time alone?" Clementine's tone dripped with sarcasm. "You don't get to decide that. You're still my wife."

Freya sighed, trying to free her wrist from his grip. "Not anymore. We're divorced, remember?"

You divorced me!

His expression darkened, and he tightened his grip. "You can't just walk away whenever you please."

"I can, and I will," she asserted, finally freeing her wrist. She shot him a pointed look and walked out of the room.

In the hallway, Freya took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She knew she had to stand firm in asserting her independence.

Clementine followed her, frustration evident on his face. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I have plans. Plans that don't involve you," she replied, not bothering to hide her irritation.

He scoffed. "You can't just shut me out of your life, Iyah. We have history."

She turned to face him. "History doesn't mean I owe you anything now. It's time we both move on."

Clementine gripped her hand tightly again, demanding that she accompany him to the old mansion to see his grandmother.

"What? No!"

"And why the bloody hell not?" He retorted back.

Still puzzled, she refused, suggesting that Callista Hayes should go instead.

Confused by Clementine's sudden insistence, Freya crossed her arms, skepticism evident on her face. Memories of his past refusals to see Catherine flooded her mind, reminding her of a time when Clementine had barred her from that part of his life.

"Why the sudden change of heart? You've never been keen on me visiting your grandmother before."

Clementine sighed, his expression shifting between frustration and sincerity. "Grandma insisted on seeing you. And frankly, I'd rather not be alone with Callie."

Ghad. Callie?

Freya raised an eyebrow, her suspicion deepening. "And why is that? What's really going on, Clementine?"

He leaned against the car, looking genuinely conflicted. "Grandma cares about you, there's no mistaking that. I thought it might do her good to see you."

Freya's internal struggle intensified as she grappled with the conflicting emotions pulling her in different directions. In the intricate tapestry of the von Iver's family dynamics, Catherine stood out as a beacon of warmth, the only one who consistently showed genuine kindness to Freya. Her grandmotherly care contrasted starkly with the complex and often tumultuous relationship she shared with Clementine.

Despite reservations about going with Clementine, Freya could not ignore the affection she had for the old woman. Their moments together, filled with stories and laughter, held a special place in her heart. The idea of bringing comfort to Catherine during this turmoil made it difficult for Freya to turn away.

Freya felt a twinge of guilt. The thought of disappointing Clement's grandmother weighed on her, and she reluctantly agreed, "Fine, but this better not be some kind of trick."

As they drove towards the Iver's ancestral mansion, the atmosphere in the car remained tense. Freya couldn't help but replay moments from their failed marriage in her mind. The old mansion emerged on the horizon, a looming testament to the memories they once shared within its walls.

Hours later, Freya found herself standing outside the Ivers' mansion. The memories flooded back as she hesitated before entering. The grandeur of the mansion, once a symbol of their shared life, now felt like a relic of the past.

Catherine, Clementine's grandmother, appeared in the doorway, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Freya.

"Freya, my dear! It's been too long!"