?Chapter 396:


    Though both parents had their own loves, they surrendered to the weight of tradition, their resistance merely a whisper against the storm. And so they married—two strangers beneath the same roof, learning to coexist while longing for someone else. They had hoped to endure until they could part ways quietly.


    But fate, ever capricious, had other ns. Divorce eluded them, and three years into their forcedpanionship, Freya was born.


    With her arrival, something shifted. They resolved to raise her with care, determined not to let history write her fate as it had theirs. They wanted her to know a childhood where love, even if feigned, felt real.


    And in that, they seeded.


    As for Hugh and Cheryl…


    Three years prior, Cheryl had found herself in a nightmare—trapped in a marriage poisoned by violence. In her darkest hour, she reached for Hugh, a flicker of her past she hoped might save her.


    Hugh helped her find awyer, but he kept his distance.


    He had a family now, and the embers of their old love had long gone cold. What he offered was not romance—it was restitution for a youth lost to fate.


    Cheryl eventually divorced. And then, Freya’s mother fell gravely ill.


    Two years ago, she passed away.


    Just three days after the funeral, Hugh—drowning in grief—soughtfort in drink, only to wake up beside Cheryl. Freya had seen it with her own eyes. A cruel setup by Cheryl’s family, who believed Hugh still carried a torch for Cheryl after helping her escape her abusive past. Freya had once asked, “Why did you turn to alcohol?”


    Hugh had answered, “Your mom and I spent decades together. Though love may not have lived between us,panionship did. And over time, that bes its own kind of bond.”


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    In that moment, something quietly shifted within Freya.


    She realized that being together didn’t always bloom from love. She couldn’t recall how she managed to shower or crawl into bed afterward. Everything felt like a blur.


    Staring at the ceiling, her mind reeled with memories of her parents—moments wrapped in warmth that had, to her, always looked like love. Her father’s tenderness, his worry when her mother was ill… that couldn’t have been an illusion.


    But how could it not be love?


    “Mina?” Ethel’s voice came with a knock at the door. “Are you asleep?”


    Freya pulled herself together, rose, and stood before the mirror, smoothing her face into calm before opening the door.


    “What’s up?” she asked, her tone warm and steady as always.


    “What did you and Dad talk about?” Ethel stood at the threshold, picking up on the subtle shift in Freya’s mood. “He told me toe check on you, maybe have a heart-to-heart.”


    “Nothing serious.”


    “Yeah.”


    “I don’t buy it.” Ethel tried to coax a smile out of her. “Unless you prove it—with an actual smile.”


    Freya smiled despite herself and tousled Ethel’s hair affectionately. Then, recalling the earlier conversation, she added, “If Dad wants to marry her, let him. It’s his life. We shouldn’t interfere.”


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