Wedding Room Controversy: Who is the Outsider?

However, my mother's following words left me stunned. "Elodie, don't be hard on Freya. Wash the dishes, don't tire your brother out. You're his older sister, and you should take care of him."

What? Me? I stared at my mom in shock as Freya smirked mockingly. What was my mom thinking? Was she just letting Freya off the hook? What on earth happened while I was away?

Just as I was about to argue back, my mom shoved me into the kitchen.

"Why make a fuss over her? Even if she's lazy, she's the wife your brother chose. From now on, you'll be in charge of the dishes. Don't you stir up trouble between them!"

The mother, who was always by my side, now felt like a stranger. What did she mean by stirring up trouble? How could she not see that an outsider was bullying Gideon?

"Mom, what do you mean by this? You're just going to ignore this? Look at how arrogant Freya is!"

Losing patience, my mom retorted, "Ignore? What can I do? Was it easy for your brother to get married? Remarrying would cost a fortune, are you paying for it? Besides, being divorced once already makes it harder to find someone else. Who's being unreasonable here, you or me?"

Her sharp words left me speechless. Indeed, getting a wife these days did cost a fortune, and it would be even more challenging for Gideon if he were divorced. My mom was being practical, thinking of the bigger picture. A divorce would just lead to more problems.

"Enough, don't make trouble for nothing. Wash the dishes and then start preparing tomorrow's meals. Do you expect your brother to wait for you?"

With that, she turned and left the kitchen. Gideon was in the living room comforting Freya, and my mom joined in, putting on a placating smile. Despite my reluctance, I couldn't lash out; life felt suffocating.

I began washing the dishes, the cold water flowing over my hands. Listening to the laughter in the living room, I couldn't help but tear up.

After cleaning up the kitchen, I started preparing tomorrow's meals. Gideon had always loved my pulled pork, a dish I hadn't cooked for him in years. I decided to showcase my skills tomorrow and whip up a few more of my signature dishes.

By the time I finished tidying everything up, it was nearly midnight. The living room was pitch dark, and no one was around. Gideon's home has three bedrooms and a living room; he and his wife occupy one room, and my mom and I each have our own.

I entered the room I shared with Aiden. He was already fast asleep. Lying on the bed, I relished the comfort of my waist—the bed was substantial yet soft.

At the crack of dawn the next day, I got up to start cooking. Stepping out of my room, I found my mom already sitting on the couch.

"Mom, up so early? I haven't even started on breakfast yet!"

My mom glanced at me. "No rush, your brother won't wake up until noon. We have time."

Noon? What about breakfast? I knew Gideon liked to sleep in, but I didn't expect him to stay in bed until noon.

"What about Freya? Let her whip up something for us to eat. Aiden should be getting up soon, too."

I was about to head to Gideon's room to wake Freya, thinking how she acted like she owned the place, sleeping in as the sun came up.

My mom quickly stopped me. "Don't disturb Freya; she and your brother went to bed late. I'm counting on her to give me grandchildren, so don't stir up trouble. Just make some simple sandwich for breakfast; there's pickled vegetables in the fridge. We'll make something nice for lunch once your brother wakes up."

Hearing my mom say this, I felt a pang of sympathy. I had thought that once Gideon was married, my mom could finally relax. Freya was being incredibly lazy; this wasn't how a wife should act. Today, I definitely needed to have a serious talk with her.

After Aiden woke up, the three of us had a simple meal. Since Aiden was still growing, I boiled an extra egg for him.

After breakfast, I dropped Aiden off at preschool and picked up some groceries on the way home. By the time I got back, it was already past 9 o'clock. I rushed into the kitchen in a panic; braising the pork alone would take hours, and I was running out of time.

By the time I finished cooking and set the table, it was precisely 11:30. As I headed to the living room to call them for dinner, the door suddenly swung open. A well-dressed middle-aged woman, a stranger to me, entered, yet she knew our home's door code.

She looked at me without any hint of surprise. "You must be Elodie. I always hear your mom talking about you. I'm Freya's mother. Make yourself at home here."