Chapter 222 Athena Meets Freya
Athena stood by the window, letting the warmth of the sun bathe her face. The sunlight was inviting, and she felt its embrace as it lifted her spirits. After a long walk from the car, the fresh air and the calm surroundings seemed to soothe her.
She felt a moment of peace.
Sally urgently pulled her toward the elevator, her grip tight. Athena couldn’t tell whether Sally’s haste was because of her injury or if she was pretending. But something in Sally’s behavior felt off. The anxiety was palpable.
Sally was nervous—she had been watching for any sign of Byron’s actions. Athena noticed how her eyes darted around the space. If they didn’t hurry, Sally would lose the opportunity to confront Byron.
Before Athena had even arrived, Byron had wheeled Freya outside to the garden, where they sat by the fountain, basking in the sun.
Athena glanced at Sally. “How long are you planning to stay this time?”
Sally hesitated. The tension in her posture grew more apparent, and Athena could sense that something was wrong.
If Byron saw Sally now, the consequences would be disastrous. Sally couldn’t think about the details—only how to face Byron in this moment.
“Athn!” Sally stopped suddenly, her voice strained.
Athena looked at her, confused. “What’s wrong?”
Sally turned, her expression suddenly serious. “Promise me you won’t tell Byron I’m back, no matter what happens.”
Athena frowned. Sally’s request felt urgent, and there was a weight behind her words. Something big was coming.
“I know,” Athena said with a half-smile, understanding what Sally meant. “Not just Byron, but Gideon too, right?”
Sally gave a quick laugh, but it was hollow. “Oh, how could I forget about that guy…” She slapped her forehead, then turned to face Athena. “Go on ahead to the fountain and wait for me. I forgot my phone!”
Before Athena could respond, Sally pushed her gently forward and darted off with surprising speed, her movements quick and purposeful.
Athena watched her go, an uneasy feeling creeping into her chest. Something felt different—something was wrong with Sally, even more so than when they’d last seen each other.
Shaking her head, Athena turned toward the garden. The private hospital truly lived up to its reputation—the garden was impeccably maintained, lush and vibrant even in winter, with delicate flowers blooming here and there. It was a tranquil oasis.
Athena moved forward slowly, her steps light as she enjoyed the warmth of the sun. But as she neared the fountain, a scene in front of her caught her attention, and the smile on her face slowly faded.
Beside the fountain, a woman in a wheelchair sat. A refined, handsome man was carefully wrapping a scarf around her. His movements were gentle and tender.
It took Athena a moment, but the man’s identity struck her like a bolt of lightning.
Byron.
The man who had told her he was on a business trip, the man she trusted.
Byron had just finished sunbathing with Freya, and he was adjusting the scarf around her neck, his focus entirely on her.
When he finished and stood up, he turned to walk away, but his eyes locked onto Athena’s in shock.
“Thea…” Byron murmured, his voice filled with surprise.
Freya, noticing the tension, reached out and placed a hand on his. “Byron, what’s wrong?”
Athena’s heart dropped. She met Freya’s confused gaze, and in that moment, everything seemed to crash down. Freya was back. She was alive. Athena felt a wave of disbelief wash over her.
“So, that’s how it is…” Athena whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. Her world seemed to tilt on its axis.
She couldn’t process it. She couldn’t stay. Turning quickly, she walked away in a daze, her legs unsteady beneath her.
“Thea!” Byron’s voice pierced the air as he rushed after her.
Athena’s heart pounded in her chest as she heard his footsteps closing in. Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and demanding. “Why are you running away?” he asked, his voice strained with frustration.
In a blur of emotion, Athena spun around and slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap echoed through the garden.
“Byron!” Freya cried out, watching in shock as she pushed her wheelchair forward. She stumbled in a desperate attempt to reach them, her legs faltering as she ran toward them.