Love Unspoken

Freya found herself biting her lip, a sense of unease tugging at her heart despite the smile on his face. She couldn't quite understand the source of her discomfort.

"I promise, I'll help you fill this hole. You can trust me," she declared with sincerity. It was only after she offered to help Walter with the predicament he found himself in that his expression shifted subtly. "Fill it? What do you mean?" His confusion was evident in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. I said I'll help you, and I will," she responded, her words clipped.

Unexpectedly, Walter seized her wrist, his tone hardening. "Tell me the truth, Freya. What exactly did you do?"

His grip was firm, too firm, causing her to wince and furrow her brows. "Ouch, why? That hurts!"

Upon seeing her discomfort, Walter released her, his face softening as he apologized, "Sorry."

Rubbing her sore wrist, Freya regarded him with suspicion. "You're strange, you know. You create a mess and remain calm, but when I offer assistance, you become agitated. What's going on with you?"

Walter's gaze held hers, his expression unreadable. He took her hand gently and spoke in a soft voice, "Freya, what have you done? Please, tell me. I don't need your help with this, and I don't want you getting into any trouble either." She shook her head, trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, I won't be in danger. I can handle this."

Walter's gaze was intense, as if he was trying to read her very soul.

"Really?" he pressed.

"Of course, it's true. I came here to tell you that so you could stop worrying. Also... please, come back home. Harold and I wait for you every day," she pleaded, her voice laced with desperation as tears welled in her eyes. Despite her strength, in Walter's presence, she felt as small and vulnerable as a kitten.

Walter watched her for a long moment before abruptly turning away to gaze out the window, releasing a sigh.

"I'll try to make it back when I can. Like you said, the situation is serious. I've got my hands full at work, hardly any time to come home."

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Freya clung to his hand, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I get it, I really do. It's not just this mess, but maybe dad too. I know you're scared to face him."Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

After a moment of contemplation, as if making a decision, Freya spoke resolutely, "I've been thinking, maybe we should move out, like Alexander did. Just not live with them anymore."

It had been Kaitlyn's idea for everyone to live together after the wedding to test Walter's character, and Freya had agreed at the time.

So they lived on without incident, and the matter of moving out never came up. But now, Freya yearned for a change, to live a real family life, to have a home of her own. Walter stroked her hair, smiling gently, "If that's what you want, then let's do it. You decide."

There it was, his typical nonchalance. Whatever she said went; he never seemed to have an opinion of his own.

He seemed so detached from their home life.

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Freya hesitated briefly, a guilty glint in her eyes, before she averted her gaze and said, "No, not at all, you're overthinking it."

Her reaction did not go unnoticed by Walter. His smile shifted, a nuanced change detectable in his eyes.

"Alright, I won't pry. I have to head to work soon. You should go back and take good care of Harold."

Freya nodded obediently, then looked up at him with tender eyes, only to find that Walter had already turned and was exiting the car without looking back.

He strode into his office building and, once he entered the elevator, the smile on his face faded away.

Walter took out his phone and dialed a number.