Chapter 275 You Should Forget Her!
The weight of Byron’s words hung heavy in the air. Freya stood frozen, her heart twisting in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t the first time Byron had spoken of Athena, but today, there was a finality to his tone that left no room for doubt.
Freya had tried, for so long, to be enough for him. She dressed like Athena, mimicked her mannerisms, tried to be the woman she thought he needed. She had hoped, for a fleeting moment, that by doing so, she could step into the life Athena had left behind, filling the space the deceased woman had once occupied. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many years passed, Byron remained unreachable.
Her attempts to get closer, to earn his love, had only driven a wedge deeper between them. Byron’s indifference hurt more than she could admit. Even when she had gone so far as to put herself in a vulnerable position—dressing in a nightgown and visiting his room during a business trip—Byron had turned her away. His coldness had only grown, like a fortress surrounding his heart.
Now, standing before him, Freya felt her hopes shattering. She had thought, maybe naively, that time would heal the wounds. That as the years passed, Byron would see her not as a replacement but as someone he could love. Yet, here she was, confronted with the painful truth that Athena’s shadow would never fade, and she would never be anything more than a distant echo of the woman Byron had lost.
Byron’s response was swift, harsh even. He mentioned Seraphina, the woman who had been the catalyst for so much of the tension between them. The reporter’s question had been innocently probing, but Seraphina’s ambiguous response had stirred a storm. It had angered Byron, and in his fury, he had locked Seraphina away. It wasn’t the first time Freya had been forced to confront her own helplessness in this situation.
She had visited Seraphina in prison, each time feeling the sting of guilt. Every time Seraphina looked at her with desperation in her eyes, Freya was reminded of how powerless she was. She couldn’t change anything—Byron’s will was absolute.
And now, Byron’s words—” I will send out a declaration of singleness”—felt like the final nail in the coffin. Freya’s heart sank even further as she processed what he was saying. He had made his choice, and it was clear. She was not enough for him. She had never been.
Byron was moving on, and it wasn’t with her.
Freya’s voice trembled as she pressed on, fighting the sting of tears threatening to spill. “You told me to look forward. What about you? Do you look forward?”
Byron’s expression was unreadable. He simply stared at her, emotion locked away behind his stoic facade.
It was then that she said it—the words that had been building up in her chest for so long, the words she never thought she would have to say.
“Byron, Miss Newton has passed away for five years! You should forget her!”
She hated herself as soon as the words left her lips, but she couldn’t take them back. She had to say it, because the truth was too painful to ignore. She needed him to move on. She needed to be seen.
But Byron’s response, cold and unyielding, struck her like a slap to the face.
“It is impossible.”
His eyes were unwavering, his tone firm. “Thea is already a part of my soul. Even if I die, it is impossible to forget her.”
The finality in his voice echoed in the empty space between them. Freya felt the world tilt beneath her feet, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure she could stand. The tears she had been holding back finally broke free, but she didn’t move. She didn’t run away. She had learned over the years that running wouldn’t help. No matter how much she wanted to escape, she couldn’t outrun the truth.
Byron’s love for Athena was a ghost that haunted him, and Freya would never be anything more than a fleeting shadow in his eyes.