“Julius, I’m done with playing around. Honestly, an arranged marriage might not be that bad.” “Let’s set the wedding with the Martin family for a week from now.” Abigail Garcia’s gentle voice echoed in the hospital room, cutting through the sharp smell of antiseptic. On the other end of the line, her older brother, Julius Garcia, chuckled. “What’s going on with you? Did you break up with your mysterious boyfriend?” “I told you, what kind of decent guy could there be in Virelia? You’ve been there for seven years. What’s kept you hanging around?” A sharp pain shot up Abigail’s arm as the doctor cleaned the wound with saline. She stared at her toes, her voice shaking with the pain. “I know, I know, I messed up. But this time, I’m serious. Once I get my master’s degree next week, I’ll come back and go through with the marriage. Please, just… stop lecturing me.” As the only girl in the Garcia family, Abigail was treated like a precious gem, doted on by everyone. Hearing the frustration and guilt in her voice softened Julius’ heart. “Alright, alright, I won’t say anything else. By the way, do you have any requests for the wedding? Just send them to me, and I’ll pass them on to the Martin family.” “Also, I’ll give your number to Theodore right now. You two should probably talk before the wedding.” Abigail bit her lip. “Okay.” After she hung up, the doctor finished cleaning her wound. He glanced at the gash on her arm, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Miss, you can’t keep being this reckless. You took the knife for love, but look at this wound. It nearly hit your artery and tendon. If the knife had gone just a little deeper, you could have been seriously hurt. You could’ve died.” Earlier that afternoon, Abigail had taken a knife for her boyfriend, George Clark. George had gone out to a gathering with friends, and Abigail realized he had forgotten his cross necklace at home. So, she rushed to bring it to him. But when she entered the private room, she saw George and his friend, Samuel Robinson, in a heated argument. By chance, Samuel had just picked up a fruit knife from the table. Without thinking, Abigail threw herself in front of George to shield him. Her forearm was slashed, and the fight ended there. By the time she arrived at the hospital, she overheard a conversation outside the treatment room. “George, Abigail risked her life for you, and you still won’t marry her?” It was one of George’s friends speaking up for Abigail. George was silent for a long moment. “Abigail deliberately jumped in front of the knife, hoping to use marriage as a reward.” “Otherwise, why would she have stepped in the second Samuel pulled out the knife? What a coincidence, huh?” The words hit Abigail like a ton of bricks. The pain in her heart was worse than the physical pain in her arm. After seven years of being together, George really thought she was trying to manipulate him into marriage with this gesture. She whispered to the doctor, “Thank you, doctor. I promise, I won’t do something this stupid again.” The doctor sighed and began stitching her up. The sound of the needle and thread passing through her skin was painfully clear in the quiet room. Abigail tried to distract herself by looking out the window at the chattering sparrows. But then, George’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and it stung. “If it weren’t for Freya, I might have overlooked Abigail’s little tricks. I might’ve even proposed to her for taking the knife for me.” “But now that Freya’s back, I need some time to think about our relationship…” Abigail suddenly remembered when she entered the room earlier, George had been holding a beautiful woman in his arms. She was dressed in a tight, fiery red dress with a lot of skin showing. George had his arm around her, and she was pressed close to him, her chest squashed against his. The doctor, thinking Abigail was in pain, leaned in and said softly, “Hang in there. It’ll be over soon.” Abigail nodded, but her eyes were already red. Now everything made sense. George had been acting distracted lately, always on his phone. He’d even forgotten his beloved cross necklace this morning. It was because Freya Williams had returned. Abigail lowered her head, staring at the bloodstained gauze on the table. For the first time, she realized how pointless these seven years of love had been. And at that moment, she was more certain than ever that calling her brother about the arranged marriage was definitely the smartest decision she had made in a long time.
Abigail and George met seven years ago. It all started when Abigail, fresh out of high school, made a mistake on her university application and ended up in George’s city. George was actually Julius’ college roommate. Concerned about Abigail being on her own in a new place, Julius asked George to look out for her. Without a second thought, George offered Abigail a place in one of his vacant, luxury apartments. He came from a good family, and he was good-looking, not as stiff and serious as her brother. George was charismatic and loved to tease Abigail with harmless jokes. His attention and care for her even surpassed her brother’s. Every weekend, he took her out to eat, drink, and have fun. He also paid attention to the little things, like her period and always keeping painkillers on hand for her. He even secretly remembered her clothing sizes, so when he picked out outfits for her, they always fit perfectly. Over time, Abigail started to develop feelings for him. But there was a problem. George was in love with someone else. Her name was Freya, a bright and lively woman who had George completely enchanted. Abigail thought she and George would never be more than friends. But one rainy night, George showed up at her door, soaked to the bone and dragging a suitcase behind him. Freya had left him to chase her dreams abroad, and George couldn’t bear to be alone in his empty apartment, so he moved into the place Abigail was staying at for some company. That night, as Abigail handed him a glass of water, George pulled her into his arms. “So, you’re this happy that Freya left? Don’t tell me you’re falling for me.” Caught off guard, Abigail blushed and tried to pull away, but he kept her close. His cold lips brushed across her forehead and cheeks, then found hers, warm and soft. They lingered, and soon, he kissed her deeper, exploring every inch of her skin. Completely unprepared for this, Abigail quickly became lost in the moment, overwhelmed by sensations she didn’t know how to handle. The next morning, she was bursting to tell her brother about her relationship with George. But before she could, George stopped her. He whispered, his voice rough and seductive, “If Julius finds out I’ve stolen his precious sister away, he’s going to think I’m taking advantage of you. You know how he is. He’ll probably kill me.” Because of that, Abigail decided to keep the relationship a secret from her family. After finishing her undergrad, she stayed in the city with George to pursue her graduate studies. Her family didn’t understand, though. Julius even called George to ask about it. “George, have you seen Abigail lately? She’s insisting on staying in Virelia for grad school. Is some guy behind this?” “We’ve never minded her dating, but this guy sounds shady. No one’s even seen his face yet!” At that moment, Abigail was lying in George’s arms. He smirked and casually replied, “Your sister has a boyfriend? News to me. I’ll look into it for you.” After hanging up, he started unbuttoning Abigail’s shirt. She grabbed his hands to stop him, meeting his intense gaze. “George, do you really love me?” He chuckled lightly, “Little princess, what are you thinking? If I don’t love you, what do you think we’d be doing right now? And why would I have stayed with you for seven years?” A warm feeling filled Abigail’s chest as she carefully asked, “Then, after I graduate, let’s go meet my parents and Julius. Let’s make this official. Okay?” He buried his face in her neck, his voice soft and steady. “Sure, whatever you want.” With those words, Abigail thought everything between them was set in stone. But now, with just seven days left until they were supposed to go public, everything had changed because Freya had returned.
As the doctor finished stitching her wound, Abigail’s phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up and saw that it was from Theodore, with a formal and straightforward message. [Hello, Abigail. This is Theodore.] Abigail didn’t respond right away. Instead, she scrolled through his social media posts. There were only a few, but they gave her a glimpse into his life. As her brother had mentioned, he was exceptionally good-looking. His features were well-proportioned, and his taste was sophisticated. He was even easier on the eyes than George. Abigail found herself staring at the screen when George walked in. Since the doctor was done, he took her hand and led her downstairs. Along the way, he asked her three times if her wound hurt, but each time, she shook her head. George found it odd. “You’re really that tough now? I still remember when you got a tiny cut on your finger, and you cried in my arms for ages. Were you faking it back then?” His tone was teasing but still affectionate, just like usual. If Abigail hadn’t overheard his earlier conversation, she would’ve never guessed that George’s feelings for her had already started to change. Abigail nodded slightly. “Yeah, I was faking it before.” The truth was, she was scared of pain, but she didn’t want to show it anymore. She didn’t want George thinking she was playing the damsel in distress, trying to guilt-trip him into marriage. George was taken aback by her honest response. Seeing how tired she looked, he thought she was still shaken up. “Don’t worry. Samuel hurt you today, and I won’t let him get away with it.” Abigail looked at him. “Why not just call the police?” George’s expression shifted slightly. “Let’s not do that. He’s a friend.” Thinking about how Samuel had been nice to her before, Abigail bit her lip. “Up to you.” George let out a breath of relief. As he adjusted Abigail’s seatbelt, he noticed the cross necklace still clutched in her palm. Abigail had walked across town four years ago to buy it from a small shop. She wasn’t into superstitions, but her friends swore it brought luck. She’d gotten it just for him. Since then, his life had been pretty charmed. Today was the first time he’d forgotten to wear it. Now it was covered in Abigail’s blood. George’s lip curled. “Why are you holding onto this thing? It’s filthy.” He gently pried her fingers open and tossed the necklace out the window. It fell into the grass, disappearing from view. Abigail let out a bitter laugh but said nothing. From now on, George had Freya and didn’t need anything from her anymore. Halfway through the drive, George’s phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the red light ahead, picking up the call. A languid, almost sultry voice came through the receiver. “George, is your little girlfriend’s wound all taken care of?” Abigail knew that voice anywhere. It was Freya. George paused for a moment, then looked over at Abigail. She was focused on texting Theodore, seemingly ignoring his phone call. George quickly replied into the phone, “It’s done. I’ll be there soon. Just wait for me.” He turned the steering wheel and pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Abigail, there’s an important client arriving at the company, and I need to pick them up right away. I can only drop you off here. Will you be okay taking a taxi back?” Without saying a word, Abigail unbuckled her seatbelt and nodded. “Okay.”
Abigail reached for the car door, but George stopped her again, his eyes scanning her face. “You are unhappy. What’s wrong? Upset with me?” “Relax. Even though my client’s a woman, you don’t have to worry. I’d never cross the line.” Abigail forced a smile, her voice light. “I know. Just one more week, and after I get my diploma, I’ll tell my family about us. I trust you, really.” The warmth in George’s smile faded slightly. “Good girl. Head home now, and text me when you get there.” With that, his car sped off, disappearing into the night. Abigail flagged down a cab, and when she got home, she went straight to her bedroom. Her bedroom was a plushie paradise, with stuffed animals covering every surface. George always teased her about being childish, but he never tried to discourage her from expanding her collection. He even wore those silly cartoon PJs she got him without complaint. Every time she saw his exasperated yet indulgent expression, it gave her a sense of satisfaction she couldn’t quite explain. She used to think it was proof of his love for her. But now, as she looked back on it, maybe it was just him treating her like a little sister. Taking a deep breath, Abigail grabbed some large bags, intending to pack away all the stuffed animals. But just as she started, her phone buzzed with a call from George. She hesitated. It wasn’t like him to call so soon. When she answered, there was no greeting, just the sound of a woman’s heavy breathing mixed with broken words of pleading. “George… slower… please…” His voice came next, low and strained. “You’ve been gone for seven years. Now that you’re back, I can’t help myself. How can I go easy on you?” The woman let out a soft laugh. “Really? I thought you’d gotten your fill while living with Abigail. What’s the matter? She can’t keep up with you?” George’s tone hardened instantly. “She’s just a kid. What would she know?” Rhythmic sounds followed, growing more intense, accompanied by the woman’s breathless moans. Then came a muffled groan from him, and the line abruptly went dead. The beeping of the disconnected call echoed in Abigail’s ears. Her phone slipped from her trembling hands and fell to the floor with a loud thud. It took her a moment to process what had just happened. But when she did, it hit her like a slap in the face. She had just overheard George in bed with another woman. Her chest felt like it had been ripped open, the pain so sharp she collapsed onto the bed. She knew Freya was back. But she hadn’t expected them to waste no time picking up where they left off. His words from the call replayed in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. Just a kid? That’s it? With shaking hands, Abigail grabbed her phone. Acting on instinct, she opened a long-forgotten burner Twitter account. Seven years ago, back when George was still with Freya, Abigail had been curious about the woman he loved. She’d created the account to quietly follow Freya’s posts, sneaking peeks into her life. When Freya went abroad and stopped updating, Abigail had put the account aside, convinced that her relationship with George was solid and secure. But tonight, a new post appeared on Freya’s feed. Her breath caught as she clicked it open. It wasn’t just a picture but a two-second video. The clip didn’t show faces, but the story was clear, a woman’s neck covered in love bites, two hands entwined, and unmistakable movements that left no doubt about what they were doing. Abigail’s hands shook as she replayed it. This time, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the man’s face. It was blurry, barely visible. But the sound of his voice in the background and the star-shaped tattoo on his wrist were clear. It was George. Below the post was a short caption: [Still my man.]
The comments section exploded with chatter. [Freya, are you saying George is still as charming and capable as he was seven years ago?] [Wow, I can practically picture the scene!] Abigail’s vision blurred with tears as she replayed the video on loop, dissecting every detail, every sound, like she was punishing herself. She could hear Freya’s flirtatious laughter, followed by George’s deep, breathy groan, the same one she’d just heard over the phone. It all felt so vivid, so real, like the comments weren’t exaggerating. She could almost smell the air in that room, heavy and damp with intimacy. A sharp doorbell chime snapped her back to reality. It was the takeout she’d ordered earlier. Her cheeks felt cold. Wiping her face, she realized it was wet with tears. She accepted the food but couldn’t bring herself to eat it. Just the thought made her stomach churn. After splashing cold water on her face in the bathroom, she dumped the untouched takeout straight into the trash. Then, she stuffed her collection of plush toys into a bag and dragged it to the storage room. Next, she began moving her things out of the master bedroom and into the guest room. She worked mindlessly, hoping the monotony would dull the ache in her chest. Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her daze. It was a photo from Theodore. In the picture, a clean, minimalist desk was bathed in soft light. A laptop screen glowed faintly, a plate of spaghetti sat neatly beside it, and a well-defined hand rested near the keyboard. Beneath it was a single line of text. [Have you eaten yet?] Through the window in the background, the city lights twinkled like stars, painting a peaceful scene. But the beautiful view only made her heart ache more. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone like this? Someone composed, steady, and dependable? Her tears fell faster now, splashing onto her phone screen. On impulse, she opened the takeout app and ordered herself a plate of spaghetti. When it arrived, she snapped a photo and sent it to Theodore. They exchanged a few casual messages while eating. Somehow, her empty stomach felt a little less hollow, and the suffocating sadness from earlier started to ease. The next morning, just as Abigail got out of bed, Julius sent her a message. [Abby, don’t forget to invite George to the wedding.] She stared at the screen, hesitating for a moment before replying. [He’s been super busy lately. I don’t think he’ll make it. Honestly, I’ve already bothered him enough. Let’s just leave him out of it. No need to make him spend more money, right?] The door suddenly opened, and George walked in. Abigail quickly tucked her phone away. By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, he had already slipped on his slippers and set down the things he was carrying on the table. Abigail glanced at the star tattoo on his wrist, a mark he’d gotten when he was in a passionate relationship with Freya. It used to bother her, but now, as she looked at it, it just felt ugly. Noticing her change in expression, George pulled her gently into his arms. “Your eyes are swollen. Did you cry because you missed me?” Abigail lowered her gaze and blinked, trying to ease the dryness in her eyes. “My wound hurts a little.” It wasn’t just her arm that hurt. Her heart was aching too. George took her fingers in his hand and kissed them gently. “You’ve been through so much.” The memory of his lips on another woman’s the night before made Abigail pull her hand away. George, thinking it was because of her injury, asked, “Were you texting Julius? I heard something about a wedding. Abigail, don’t tell me you went ahead and announced our relationship and had Julius start planning the wedding?” His tone was soft, but there was an unmistakable edge of concern. Abigail met his gaze. The face she once found so captivating, sharp and defined, now seemed strangely distant. She replied quietly, “You still don’t want to go public, right? I didn’t say anything. It’s just my best friend’s wedding. My brother told me to come.” George’s tension eased. He didn’t even question why her brother was the one telling her about the wedding and not her best friend. He smiled and ruffled her hair. “I knew you wouldn’t try to rush me into marriage. You know me. I don’t like being forced into anything.” Abigail nodded, her expression steady. “I understand.” She did understand. And that was why, to respect his wishes, she was now planning to marry someone else. George hesitated for a moment. “But, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I probably won’t be able to go with you.” He was busy, of course, because Freya had returned. He had to keep her entertained, surprise her. Abigail understood that all too well, so she casually pushed his hand off her waist. “It’s fine. I’ll go by myself.” George found her reaction a bit odd. After all, in the past, whenever they were together, Abigail would practically hang on him, always asking for kisses and affection. Then, there was the fact that she had just come from the guest room. George felt something was off. He shifted into a teasing tone, trying to break the tension. “What’s this? Not sleeping in the big bed when I’m not home? Moved to the guest room instead?”
Abigail didn’t say anything and just turned to wash up. George followed her closely, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Are you mad at me? I drank too much with a client last night, and my assistant went ahead and booked me a hotel room.” But she caught the scent of unfamiliar perfume on him, and his eyes were too clear for someone who’d been drunk. No hangover in sight. Abigail shifted uncomfortably and mumbled, “It’s fine.” George nuzzled her neck, his face brushing against her skin. “I know I messed up. I won’t stay out all night again. Give me a kiss, go wash up, and then come eat breakfast.” Abigail sighed, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then pulled away and went to freshen up. By the time she came out, George had already set up the breakfast. It looked delicious, all of Abigail’s favorites. There weren’t many places in Virelia that sold Kolache, and this one was far from where they lived, but it was close to the address Freya had posted on Twitter. George gave her a lovely wink, almost as if he were showing off. “So, do you like it?” “I do,” Abigail replied. If she hadn’t just seen the same breakfast on Freya’s Twitter a few minutes ago, she might have liked it even more. George went to take a shower. Abigail stared at the breakfast, now cold on the table, with no appetite. While George was still in the shower, she quietly threw everything in the trash. When she came back, she accidentally knocked George’s jacket off the chair. As she bent down to pick it up, she felt something hard in the pocket. Curious, she pulled it out, finding it was a box of opened condoms. It was George’s favorite brand. There were five in the box, but only one left. Abigail froze, like she’d been splashed with cold water. After a long pause, she set the box down on the coffee table. George had used four of them last night. She remembered how intense he’d been with her, and they barely even had sex twice in one night. Abigail sat down on the sofa, her mind a mess, and she couldn’t stop herself from imagining George with Freya. Her thoughts flicked to Freya’s post and then the comment asking if George was still as capable as before. George came out of the shower and noticed Abigail sitting on the couch, deep in thought. As he walked over, his eyes immediately landed on the box of condoms on the coffee table. He froze for a second, unsure how it came there. Then, a sly smile appeared on his face as he quickly thought of a way to deflect the situation. He walked over and teased, “What’s this? You haven’t seen me for a whole night, and now you’re already in the mood?” He leaned in to kiss her. Abigail gently pushed him away and glanced at his jacket, trying to stay calm. “This isn’t from our place. I found it in your jacket pocket just now.” “My jacket?” His face showed confusion, and after a moment, he seemed to figure it out. “Oh, right. We were playing truth or dare last night. I ended up with the dare to bring home an opened condom.” “If you don’t believe me, I can call them right now, and you can ask.” Abigail, feeling a bit mischievous, decided to play along. “Go ahead. Call them. I’ll ask.” In an instant, George’s face fell. “Wait, Abigail, you’re really going to make me do that? I have plenty of friends, you want me to embarrass myself?” “Alright, that’s enough. I’ve been trying to calm you down all morning, and now you’re still not letting it go?” He grabbed the box and tossed it into the trash with a huff. “Abigail, I’ve told you before. I don’t like being forced into things, whether it’s in marriage or in a relationship.” “Stop pushing me so hard, alright?” He stormed off to the bedroom, clearly irritated. Abigail sat there, a tight knot forming in her chest. It was George who had suggested calling to clear his name, but now that she agreed, he turned it around and said she was being too much. She was about to retreat to the guest room when George suddenly appeared again, storming out of the bedroom. “Abigail, what happened to the things in the room? The toys? Where are they?” Abigail winced as she rubbed her sore arm. “You’ve always said those toys were childish, so I threw them out.” George gave her a skeptical look. “Then what about your stuff? Your skincare, your pajamas… where are they?” “Abigail, just because I didn’t come home last night, you’re pulling this separation act on me now?” Abigail’s forehead creased, her lips pressing into a thin line. What was going on in his head? Last night, he had spent time with another woman and used four condoms, and now he was back here, acting like everything was fine. The thought of it made her feel sick. With a deep sigh, Abigail spoke, her voice cold, “George, did you forget I’m hurt? Sleeping together would hurt my injury.” Realization flickered in George’s eyes, and guilt washed over his face. He quickly pulled her into his arms, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that… It’s just that when I saw you cleaning everything out, I panicked…” Abigail turned her head slightly, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Panicked about what? Worried I might leave you?”
George kissed her lips lightly. “You wouldn’t, right?” Abigail nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Of course not. In a week, the whole world will know you’re my fiancé. At such a crucial time, how could I leave?” George paused, his gaze dropping to the neckline of her shirt. The atmosphere in the room shifted, growing warmer. His hand slid around her waist, tugging her shirt up as his fingers found their way underneath. His hand, warm and firm, traced the soft curve of her waist. He leaned in close, his voice low in her ear. “Let’s go to the bedroom. I’ll be careful. I won’t touch your wound.” A chill ran through Abigail. She quickly pushed him away. “I’m on my period.” George looked disappointed, letting out a long sigh. He turned and walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of brown sugar water.” Abigail watched him leave, her heart heavy. He still looked like the thoughtful boyfriend she knew. But this man, who had always kept track of her cycle, had forgotten today. It had only been a week since her last period. After drinking the brown sugar water, Abigail went to wash the dishes. When she came out of the kitchen, George was in the walk-in closet, picking out clothes. But on the living room table, there was an emerald ring. The gem gleamed, a deep, vivid green. Abigail immediately recognized it, which was the ring George’s grandmother had left behind, meant for his future wife. It had always been locked in the safe in the master bedroom, a safe only George had the code to for his most precious things. But today, he’d taken it out. Abigail felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Just as she was about to ask, George’s voice cut through the air. “Abigail, don’t touch that! It’s not for you!” He rushed over, his footsteps quick and flustered. His tie was half-done, hanging crookedly around his neck. Abigail noticed the marks on his neck, faint and unmistakable. Before she could process what she’d seen, George snatched up the ring and quickly placed it in a delicate gift box he’d pulled from the closet. Seeing her confusion, he hurriedly added, “I’m just sending it out to be cleaned.” Abigail lowered her eyes, her voice quiet. “Alright.” After sending George out, Abigail started sorting through the gifts he had given her over the years. She arranged for a secondhand service to pick everything up, exchanging it all for over three million dollars. With the money in hand, she grabbed the stuffed animals she had cleared out the day before and headed to an orphanage on the outskirts of town. The first time Abigail had come here was seven years ago when she’d heard that Freya had grown up in this orphanage. After leaving, Freya often donated money and supplies. Feeling a sudden spark of defiance, Abigail started visiting regularly, making her own donations and volunteering. Over time, the children here had come to know her, and the director had become a friend. Today, Abigail donated the three million, along with the stuffed animals. Just as she was preparing to leave, George called. His voice sounded rough, and he asked where she was, insisting on coming with her to the hospital to help change her bandages. Abigail sighed, knowing she couldn’t argue, and agreed. As the call ended, she heard Freya’s laughter in the background. Abigail’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many condoms George had used with Freya this time. Her stomach churned. She quickly typed out a message to him. [You go ahead with your work. I’ll go on my own.] George replied almost instantly: [I’m done. Your arm’s injured. Don’t drive. Take a cab to the hospital and wait for me there.] Abigail let out a dry laugh. When she arrived at the hospital, George was already there. His shirt was a little wrinkled, and Abigail gave him a quick glance before looking away. After the bandages were changed, George carefully helped her down the stairs. While they waited for the elevator, a voice suddenly called out, “George.” They turned, and Freya appeared in front of them, wearing a low-cut black dress. Her long hair was swept to one side, and her neck bore fresh bite marks. Her look was sultry and confident, making Abigail feel almost childish by comparison. Abigail glanced at George, but his face was stiff, almost as though he didn’t know the woman in front of them. Meanwhile, Freya, with her usual self-assurance, extended her hand to Abigail. “You must be Abigail, right? I’m Freya.” On her wrist was the ring George had taken out for maintenance earlier. Abigail glanced at the ring, her gaze unreadable, then shook Freya’s hand. “Freya, you’re back?” Freya tilted her head, a confident smile playing on her lips. “Yes, I just got back yesterday. George brought me to the hospital. He didn’t tell you?” George cleared his throat, his voice flat. “It’s no big deal. There was no need to mention it to my girlfriend.” Freya chuckled, glancing at him with a teasing look. “Oh, George, I accidentally smeared some lipstick on your collar. How come you didn’t notice?” Abigail followed her gaze, and sure enough, there were lipstick marks on George’s collar and neck. George’s expression immediately soured. Abigail, trying to maintain her composure, smiled lightly, “It’s fine. I’ll have it cleaned when we get home.” Freya bit her lip and smiled knowingly. “Wow, George, your little girlfriend is so well-behaved. By the way, Abigail, I’m here for a checkup, preparing for a baby. What about you?” Abigail’s fingers clenched into a fist, a wave of anger rising in her chest. “So, George plans to have a child with Freya?” she thought bitterly. Before she could say anything, George spoke up. “Ms. Williams, you’re preparing for a baby? Does that mean you’re planning to get married soon?” Freya tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, thinking for a moment. “We’re not quite there yet…” She glanced at George, then leaned over and added, “We’re still in a secret relationship.” Abigail’s face drained of color, and she stumbled slightly. Freya quickly reached out to steady her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” Abigail pressed her fingers to her temples, her voice barely audible. “It’s nothing. Just some pain from the bandages.” Before she could finish, Freya interrupted, “Oh, I know. You took the knife for George, didn’t you? “Actually, I owe you an apology. Yesterday, George and Samuel got into a fight because of me.”
A wave of shock flashed across Abigail’s eyes. She’d already felt something was off the day before. George and Samuel were supposed to be best friends. She couldn’t understand what had happened to make them resort to a fight. Normally, George would’ve handled it by calling the police, but this time, he’d insisted on solving it privately. So it was because of Freya. George didn’t want to involve the authorities because he didn’t want Abigail to find out that Freya was the cause of the whole mess. Abigail couldn’t keep pretending anymore. She looked at him, pale and trembling, and asked, “What’s really going on?” George saw the color drain from her face and immediately picked her up, heading for the stairs. “I’ll explain when we get home.” He didn’t even wait for the elevator. He took the stairs, practically running. But Freya followed them. “George, you brought me here, and now you’re just going to leave me behind?” George clenched his teeth. “Go back on your own.” Freya’s eyes welled up with tears. “George, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean it. “Abigail, I’ve been living abroad for so long. I’m not used to the way things are done here. But please believe me, George and I are over. We’re just friends now. “Please, Abigail, let him take me home.” “Just friends? The kind of friends who sleep together?” Abigail thought, but she didn’t say a word. George finally said, “Abigail, Freya has this thing about cleanliness. She doesn’t like taxis. Can we just give her a ride for a little while?” But Abigail wasn’t exactly keen on taxis herself. The past few days, he’d been making her call for one every time. She knew she couldn’t compete with Freya, so she just sighed and gave in. When they got to the parking lot, George helped Abigail into the passenger seat and buckled her in. Freya climbed into the back without a word. George shot her a warning look through the rearview mirror. Freya just grinned, flicking her hair over her shoulder and sticking out her tongue playfully. As they turned a corner, Freya spoke again, “George, Abigail looks pretty pale. Why don’t you drop her off first, then take me?” Abigail closed her eyes, pale and silent, not giving any reaction. George hesitated, then decided to take her home first. Once there, he helped her inside and into the bedroom. Abigail grabbed onto his sleeve. “George, why did you fight with Samuel yesterday?” George sighed softly. “Samuel… He insulted Freya.” He didn’t elaborate, and Abigail didn’t press further. That one sentence told her everything. She felt stupid, not knowing what people might be saying about her. George had fought Samuel over Freya while Abigail had thrown herself in the way to protect him. How ridiculous. Abigail waved her hand dismissively. “Just go.” George looked flustered. “Abigail, don’t be mad. I wasn’t trying to hide things from you. I just… didn’t mean for things to go like this…” Abigail cut him off. “So you’re saying you had no choice? Like with the ring from your grandmother, you gave it to her because you had no other option, right?” George’s face darkened. “The ring… I can explain. Freya needed something for a party, so she borrowed it. Once the event’s over, she’ll give it back. “I figured you wouldn’t wear a ring like that, so I let her borrow it.” Abigail felt a stab of realization. She knew she wasn’t the right person for that ring, and even more so, she wasn’t the right person for George. But she still couldn’t help herself. “So… now that Freya’s back, am I still your girlfriend?” George’s eyes locked onto hers. “Of course you are,” he said firmly. “Of course.” “Then what about Freya?” Abigail pressed. He immediately pulled her close, his body warm against hers. “Abigail, stop overthinking this. You know I’ve been done with her for a while. “We’re just friends now. She just came back to the country and doesn’t have anyone else to rely on, so I’m just helping her out a bit.” Abigail thought to herself bitterly, “When it came to Freya, you’d go to any length to help her, wouldn’t you?” But instead of voicing it, she said, “Then let’s call Julius. Let’s tell him we’re dating.” George’s expression faltered, and he stammered, “Abigail, it’s just a week. Can we just… forget about that for now? You need to rest. Stop worrying about everything else.” Just then, his phone rang. George just hung up. Abigail let out a heavy sigh. “Go on. Don’t keep her waiting.” George nodded, a little reluctantly. “Promise me you won’t stay mad? Rest, and I’ll be back for dinner.” He walked away, his footsteps growing distant. Abigail froze for a moment, then reached for her phone. The call had been active the whole time. The number on the screen was her backup phone. Before getting out of the car earlier, she had called herself from that phone, then slipped it under the passenger seat. Now, she brought her phone up to her ear, listening carefully. George’s voice came through low and irritated. “Freya, didn’t I tell you not to show up in front of Abigail?” Freya’s voice was laced with hurt. “But yesterday, you told me you didn’t like her. Today, you’re admitting she’s your girlfriend! You’re the one being two-faced. How is that my fault?” George sighed deeply. “She’s been with me for all these years while you were gone. I can’t just break up with her like that, Freya.” Freya’s sobs became louder. “George, you’ve always been mine. When I went abroad, it was to improve myself. I agreed to break up because I didn’t want to make things hard for you with your family. But it’s been seven years, and I can’t forget you. Why should I end up being the one hiding in the shadows?” George’s voice softened. “I know, I know. But things have changed, and we need to figure this out slowly. Just be patient for now.” Freya’s voice turned sweet again. “So, when are you going to break up with her?” George’s voice dropped in frustration. “Freya!” Her tone softened, almost coaxing. “Alright, alright, I won’t ask again. Just take your time. But… if you really plan on marrying her, it’s fine. Just leave a spot for me. I’ll be happy to be your mistress if that’s what it takes.” Abigail couldn’t help but feel a rush of disgust. She couldn’t help but think that no man could resist Freya’s perfect balance of charm and sweetness. That effortless ability to play on a man’s heartstrings was something Abigail knew she’d never master. In the middle of her thoughts, she heard clothes rustling on the line. And then, George let out a low groan. Freya’s voice came through, half-muffled. “Aren’t you taking me home? Why are we heading to the parking garage instead?” George’s voice was rough, his breath shallow. “You’ve turned me on. I can’t wait anymore… Let’s just do it in the garage.”
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