?Chapter 413:


    “Not bad,” Freya replied sinctly.


    “Not bad, yet you divorced him?” Winslow probed further, his eyebrows arching slightly.


    “We just weren’t a good match,” Freya exined, her voice tinged with a hint of mncholy.


    The path they walked was lined with softly swaying flowers, mirroring the ebb and flow of their conversation.


    As they continued, Winslow nodded understandingly. He knew Freya well enough to understand that she never took marriage lightly. He respected her privacy and didn’t press further about her past. Instead, he shifted the conversation to a more intriguing topic.


    “An old friend of mine brought something up the other day,” Winslow said as he walked beside her. “He mentioned he has a grandson who’s the right age to settle down.” His voice carried a hint of amusement. “ording to him, the boy’s not only ridiculously good-looking, but alsoes from an excellent family and has a bright future ahead of him.”


    At that, Freya immediately caught on. Her gaze shifted slightly as realization dawned—this was about a potential arranged marriage. “He wants you to meet him,” Winslow remarked, turning his head to study her reaction. “What do you think? Are you open to it?”


    “No,” Freya replied, her tone firm and unwavering.


    She had never liked the idea of being matched up by someone else—it grated against her sense of independence.


    “I suspected as much,” Winslow responded with a gentle chuckle, his affection for her evident in his warm smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve already declined on your behalf.”


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    Freya paused, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.


    Winslow noticed the subtle change in her expression, his own demeanor growing more somber. “You know, if I were younger, I might have insisted you meet him. But over the years, I’vee to realize there are some things better left unforced.”


    Freya remained silent, her thoughts drifting to a question she longed to ask—why he had coerced her mother into an arranged marriage all those years ago. Yet, she hesitated, knowing that dredging up such memories would only reopen old, painful wounds.


    “Mina,” Winslow called out softly, standing by the edge of a serene pond. His voice carried a weight of age and regret. “I owe your mother an apology.”


    Freya turned to him, her heart skipping a beat as she saw the genuine remorse in his eyes.


    “If I hadn’t pushed her into that marriage with your father, maybe she would still be with us,” he admitted, sorrow clear in his voice. “It was my mistake.” His words hung heavily between them.


    For the past two years, ever since the day Anita Alvarez—his daughter—drew her final breath, he had been haunted by a relentless ache of regret, gnawing at him every single day over the choice he had made. It wasn’t until the weight of age settled into his bones that he finally understood—some things he once thought mattered, really didn’t. Nothingpared to family.


    “When Mom passed away,” Freya began gently, her voiceced with honesty and hesitation, unsure if her words would bringfort or stir deeper pain. “She told She and me one thing… She said we made her happy. Just having us was enough.”


    Life had a way of twisting unexpectedly, never following a straight line—each choice carving out a new path, a different ending.


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