Love Unspoken

In her haste to return to The Kennedys, Freya was taken aback by the unexpected absence of Walter from the office that day.

He was sequestered in the bedroom, engrossed in a phone call, his countenance etched with seriousness. Freya hesit ated at the doorway, her ears straining to catch snippets of the conversation, but Walter's contributions were sparse, limited to noncommittal affirmations of, "Mmm, okay, go on."

Despite her best efforts to eavesdrop, she gleaned no useful information.

No sooner had Walter ended the call than Freya closed the distance between them, her voice echoing softly in the room, "Walter."

His cell phone disappeared into his pocket as he turned to regard her. "Why's your hair all wet?" he queried, his hand reaching out to smooth her damp tresses.

Yet, Freya was painfully aware of the lack of genuine emotion behind his seemingly tender gesture-it was as if he was merely leafing through a book, even as his fingers brushed through her hair. Freya found herself riveted by the sight of this man, his sturdy figure silhouetted against the rain-lashed window, his features softened, as though a grayish filter had been cast over him.

moment, her guilt seemed to dissipate. She launched herself into Walter's arms, her grip around his waist unyielding. "Walter, let's go abroad."His hand, which had been stroking her hair, stilled. He looked down at her, his expression one of puzzlement. "Why the sudden urge to leave the country?""I'm scared."""What are you scared of?"Freya shook her head, her fear

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a gentle soul who wouldn't

gaze flickered, and he resumed stroking her hair. "I can't, my dear. The company matters haven't been

overseas with you, take Harold with us, and the three of us can live abroad forever, never returning. Who cares what they say when

gentle yet his resolve firm. He couldn't leave everything would be lost. All his efforts

His silence was his answer. Freya clenched her fingers, seeming to muster her will, and

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"I know it's a cruel thing, but I