The beginning of forever

8 - Extra love

Book 2: So, this is Forever

8 – Extra love

Becky's POV

"Ask away, my love. I will tell you everything," Freen uttered.

"I-I don't know where to start," I admitted.

"You can start anywhere you'd like. There's no rush, and I'm here to answer every question you have," Freen reassured, her eyes reflecting patience and understanding.

Taking a deep breath to collect my thoughts, I began addressing the pain from the beginning. "Were you... were you really planning to divorce me?"

Freen's eyes softened with empathy as she listened, her thumb continuing its soothing strokes on my cheek.

"Sadly, yes. It was another episode of stupidity on my part because I saw everything falling apart, and I wanted to keep you away from the fallout. I was falling apart, and all I saw was you being the best wife anyone could have, and I felt like I didn't deserve it. I was about to lose the company, and I felt like a failure," Freen admitted with slumped shoulders.

Her admission hung in the room like a heavy curtain, revealing the depths of her struggles that I had been oblivious to. I could sense the ache in her words, the weight of her solitude, and the shadows that had haunted her.

"But why didn't you talk to me? We've always faced everything together," I questioned, my voice carrying the weight of hurt and confusion.

Freen let out a deep sigh, her eyes reflecting the weariness of carrying a burden in silence. "I thought I was protecting you, shielding you from the chaos in my life. I didn't want to burden you with my failures. It was a misguided attempt to spare you from the pain."

"I was in a dark place, babe. The failures in my professional life, coupled with the thought that I could not give you or be what you deserve, pushed me to the edge," Freen confessed, her eyes reflecting the shadows of that tumultuous time.

The room fell into a heavy silence, filled with the echoes of missed opportunities and unspoken truths. The air seemed to thicken with the realization of how our individual struggles had strained the fabric of our connection.

"But it was not just your burden to bear. We're a team," I insisted, reaching out to hold Freen's hands. "We face everything together. We are married. Supposedly, your struggles are mine, and mine are yours."

Freen's gaze met mine, a fleeting smile touching her lips, carrying a mix of gratitude and remorse.

"I know that. The emptiness that filled my heart, the idea of no longer having you as my wife—it was a haunting realization that had driven me to make that desperate video call."

As Freen continued her revelation, the weight of her unspoken pain became even more palpable. The room held a charged atmosphere, a blend of sorrow, regret, and a glimmer of hope.

"The day of the incident, where I was shot," Freen's voice trembled with the memory, "I called to beg you not to sign the divorce papers."

The revelation hit me like a wave of emotions. The day she was shot—the day that had been etched in my memory with the pain of losing her. Little did I know that in that moment of desperation, she had reached out, pleading for our connection to endure.

"So the incident was real?" I confirmed.

"Yes, it was." She uttered with conviction.

"I almost died that day. Thinking that I was dead, they had thrown me away in a secluded area. But God may have heard your prayers. I woke up so weak, but I mustered all the strength I could to ask for help. Luckily, I reached a group of people who were kind enough to bring me to the hospital."