Kristian replied with conviction, “We’re merely here to make things clear.”
“So, it’s you who’s pushing for the divorce, not Freya?” Lionel pinpointed the crucial issue swiftly, his tone laced with rage. “You rushed into marriage without thinking, and now you want a damn divorce? Do you even get what the hell marriage means?”
“Why did you even marry Freya in the first place?” Melinda demanded sharply.
Lionel, not satisfied with the surface details, pressed. “It couldn’t have been merely a fleeting romance, could it?”
Isaac spoke up, his suspicion lingering like a shadow. “Was Freya merely standing in for someone else in your heart?”
Both Melinda and Lionel turned to Isaac, their expressions grave, demanding, “A stand-in for whom?”
Caught off-guard, Kristian faltered, unable to formulate a response. Isaac was making things way more complicated than they needed to be.
“It’s my choice to go through with the divorce,” Freya interjected firmly, aware that divulging too much could make things worse.
She opted to keep the details to herself and Kristian, insisting, “It has nothing to do with Kristian.” Her tone was earnest and her demeanor resolute, leaving no room for doubt.
The family had hoped to bridge the gap, but as they delved deeper, they sensed a growing rift between Freya and Kristian, hinting at deeper, unseen conflicts.
For a fleeting moment, a somber silence enveloped the room, the tension palpable.
Freya remained silent, her gaze fixed intently on the gathering of elders before her, awaiting their verdict with a quiet intensity.
“Let’s do this,” Melinda declared, her fingers intertwining with Freya’s in a warm, reassuring clasp. Her eyes shimmered with genuine affection as she spoke. “Divorce isn’t a trivial affair. We should involve your parents in this discussion. If it’s too much trouble for them to come here, we’ll go to them instead.”
“Yes, Freya,” Lionel chimed in, his voice thick with undisguised ire, his brow furrowed in distaste. “You’ve been married for two years, and that jerk hasn’t even bothered to visit your parents.”
His anger towards Kristian was palpable. “With the divorce proceedings underway, he must meet your parents and offer them a sincere apology.”
In Lionel’s eyes, Kristian, who had initially been eager to wed Freya, now seemed neglectful of her needs. If he were Freya’s real grandfather, he would’ve smacked the hell out of Kristian with that damn cane.
“No need. I can handle this on my own,” Freya stated firmly, dismissing the idea with a swift shake of her head.
Melinda pressed on, concern etching her features. “Freya…”
“I’m not close with my family,” Freya admitted, her voice dropping to a somber tone as she revealed her family issues for the first time. “My father remarried.”
Kristian, caught off guard, paused and studied her face. It bore the usual stoic expression, yet he sensed an undercurrent of tension.
With a voice slightly hoarse from emotion, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
This time, Lionel’s restraint shattered. In a sudden, dramatic gesture, his cane swung through the air with a brutal strike as it connected with Kristian.
Visions of Freya enduring her father’s neglect post-remarriage, coupled now with the specter of her looming divorce, overwhelmed him. He was certain she had endured far too much suffering.
.
.
.
“Lionel!” Freya’s voice, tinged with shock, broke through the tense air. “You even had the audacity to ask!”
Lionel’s voice thundered with fury. “After being married for two entire years, have you even once genuinely cared for Freya? As her husband, you remain oblivious to her past!”
With each word, Lionel’s anger surged, his disdain for Kristian palpable.
He seriously contemplated throwing Kristian out right then and there.
“Freya,” Melinda cut in, her voice a calming force amidst the chaos. She perceived Kristian’s disregard as the root of Freya’s misery in their marriage and advised,
“Give it another year with Kristian. If you still feel the same about a divorce after that, I’ll stand by your decision.”
Freya opened her mouth to object, “No, I – “
“Actually, I don’t have much time left,” Melinda broke in, her voice dropping to a somber whisper. Her eyes dulled with the weight of her unspoken truths. “I didn’t bring it up earlier because I didn’t want to burden you.”
The room fell silent. Isaac found himself at a loss for words, grappling with the gravity of the situation.
Freya’s expression was a mixture of confusion and concern.
Kristian was equally baffled.
If Melinda was indeed facing her final days, why did Isaac seem so utterly unprepared for the revelation?
Melinda’s voice trembled as she shared the grim diagnosis. “The doctor said I have stomach cancer and only a year and a half to live.” Her spirit seemed to dim with each word, her posture slumping under the weight of her own despair. “Freya, could you stay with Kristian for just one more year? Just one, okay?”
Freya took her stethoscope out of her bag and gently checked on Melinda, her gaze piercing into Melinda’s pupils.
Melinda blinked, taken aback by Freya’s unexpected response. “You might have stumbled upon a rather inept doctor,” Freya suggested, a hint of playfulness in her tone as if to cushion the bluntness of her words. “Your condition is steady and strong. Plus, there’s no dark ring around your iris – an indicator of a healthy stomach.”
Caught in her act, Melinda’s facade cracked, her grip loosening as she fought back a mix of embarrassment and resignation. “Freya…”
“Kristian and I reached the decision to divorce after a lot of consideration. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t push me on it,” Freya explained, her voice soft yet firm, offering Melinda a comforting touch. “Thank you for your love and support over the years.”
Tears welled up in Melinda’s eyes, a testament to her genuine reluctance.
She had always yearned for a daughter, having been blessed with two sons instead. In Freya, she had found the daughter she never had, making this farewell even more poignant.
“Are you really sure?” Lionel interjected, his voice low and strained, his gaunt face etched with a clear reluctance.
Freya nodded decisively. “Yeah, I’m sure of it.”
A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone absorbed the finality in her voice.
It was clear – no amount of persuasion could sway her resolve to leave the marriage.
“Kristian, I need you to come with me. Now,” Lionel insisted, pushing himself up with the support of his cane.
Kristian shared a quick, uncertain look with Freya before he trailed behind his grandfather, stepping into the dimly lit study next door for a private conversation.
Meanwhile, Melinda struck up a light-hearted chat with Freya. She mentioned that if Freya ever chose to give her marriage with Kristian another shot, the Shaw family would welcome her back with open arms.
In this home, a gentle warmth surrounded Freya, stirring memories of the comforting days before her mother’s passing.
When Kristian reemerged thirty minutes later, his facade was calm, almost unreadable, but Lionel’s expression was stormy, a clear sign of discontent for anyone paying attention.
Suddenly, Lionel’s temper flared. “Enough of this, you’re just irritating me now,” he snapped harshly. “Look after Freya well this next month. If she’s upset in any way, I swear, I’ll transfer all your inheritance to her!”
Kristian responded calmly, “Understood.”
As they were about to leave, Melinda’s voice halted them. “Wait.”
Kristian and Freya paused and turned around, the moonlight casting a soft glow around them, creating a momentary illusion of closeness.
“Have you sorted out how the assets will be divided after the divorce?” Melinda inquired, her concern palpable, worrying Freya might end up with less than she deserved.
“Don’t worry, Freya will be treated with fairness,” Kristian assured smoothly, deliberately vague to avoid any implications of greed. “She’ll receive a house, a car, and a suitable financial settlement.”
“And on top of that, make sure you hand over some of your stocks and bonds to her,” Melinda remarked, her tone serious and unwavering.
Kristian was left dumbfounded. Was he truly their flesh and blood?
Lionel nodded firmly, his gaze sharp. “Your mom’s absolutely right.”
Isaac chimed in, his expression unreadable, “Kristian, do as your mother says and don’t give her more to worry about.”
“Got it,” Kristian replied, barely masking his irritation as he and Freya slid into the car.
With their divorce no longer a secret, they made no effort to feign affection.
As the car pulled away, Melinda’s and Lionel’s faces were etched with concern until the vehicle’s taillights vanished into the night.
“Let them deal with their own problems; there’s no need for you to stress over it,” Isaac murmured soothingly, gently squeezing his wife’s hand.
Melinda exhaled a weary sigh, and Isaac gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.
“Shouldn’t you clarify what you meant earlier, about Freya being a stand-in for someone else?” Melinda queried, her gaze fixed on his still ruggedly handsome features. “What secrets are you keeping about our son?”
Isaac remained silent, contemplating.
“Are you going to confide in me or not?” Melinda pressed, her voice tinged with urgency.
“I made a promise to our son to keep it to myself,” Isaac responded, his voice laced with regret.
“My friend asked me to join a trip, and I heard there are some pretty good-looking guys tagging along…” Melinda teased, her voice light and teasing, a playful twinkle in her eyes.
“How about we take this back to the room?” Isaac replied, his voice soft yet firm. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes radiating warmth and affection. “We can talk properly there.”
The sleek car glided towards the opulent Regalia Villas.
Isaac and Melinda sat snugly in the back seat, enveloped in the car’s luxurious interior.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.