A hot widower's wife || FreenBecky (G!p)

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 41

As the hours slipped away in a haze of rest and relaxation, the once serene atmosphere of the room began to shift. Outside, the skies gradually darkened, the vibrant hues of daylight giving way to the somber tones of dusk. Shadows danced upon the walls, casting eerie silhouettes that seemed to sway with the rhythm of the encroaching night.

Freen stirred from her slumber, blinking blearily as she slowly became aware of the subtle changes in her surroundings. The air felt heavier now, charged with an electric anticipation that seemed to crackle in the darkness. With a sense of unease prickling at the edges of her consciousness, Freen rose from her bed and made her way to the window, drawn by an inexplicable pull.

"Uh its already late night." Freen mumbles and glancing to the clock that placed on the side table beside the bed as she ruffling her hair a little and started to walk out from the room.

Freen's senses were assaulted by the tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Her stomach rumbled impatiently as she quickened her pace, her hunger overriding any semblance of hesitation. As she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes locked onto a figure seated at the table, indulging in a feast.

But her moment of reverie was abruptly interrupted when she met Rebecca's gaze, the other woman's mouth still full of food as she stared back with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Freen hesitated, unsure whether to speak or retreat, but the rumbling protest of her empty stomach urged her forward.

With a tentative voice, Freen began to speak, her words stumbling over each other in her eagerness to address the elephant in the room. "U-uhm..." she started, her tone hesitant.

Rebecca's cold glare silenced her, a sharp reminder of the tense dynamic between them. "What?!" Rebecca snapped, her annoyance palpable.

Freen's frustration simmered beneath the surface as she struggled to find the right words, her gaze flickering away in a feeble attempt to mask her discomfort. "Nothing. Ugh," she muttered, her voice tinged with frustration.

Taking a seat opposite Rebecca, she tried to compose herself, but her longing glances towards the tantalizing meal betrayed her inner turmoil.

Rebecca's mocking laughter cut through the air like a knife when she heard freen's stomach growling again. Her taunting words stoking the flames of Freen's hunger-induced desperation. "Oh, you're hungry huh?! Want my foods?" Rebecca asked with a smirk, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Freen's eyes lit up with hope as she nodded eagerly. "Yes!" she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement.

Rebecca's scoff and dismissive retort dashed Freen's hopes in an instant. "Just dreaming!" she said, her annoyance evident in her voice.

With a clenched jaw and a steely gaze, Freen's resolve hardened, her hunger eclipsed by a newfound determination to assert herself in the face of adversity.

"I will tell grandmother or your mom that you let your husband dying." Freen suddenly and her words hung in the air like a weighty threat, causing Rebecca's eyes to widen in disbelief and outrage. "What?! No. No way. You can't! What happened to doing everything separately?" she protested, her voice tinged with desperation.

But Freen's smirk only widened as she leaned in closer, her tone dripping with sly amusement. "But your husband is hungry right now, darling. So let your husbaby eat your foods. Alrighty? Thank you," she quipped, her words laced with a mischievous edge as she deftly snatched the bowl from in front of Rebecca and began to eat.

Rebecca's stunned silence was short-lived, quickly replaced by a surge of panic and indignation. Her heart hammered in her chest as Freen's words echoed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. What had she gotten herself into?

As Freen continued to eat, seemingly unfazed by the chaos she had wrought, Rebecca felt a wave of frustration wash over her. "You're so annoying," she groaned, her voice a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. Rebecca was about to stood up.

But before she could storm off in a huff, Freen's hand shot out, gripping her own with surprising firmness. "Wait, sit here for a while. I have something to talk," Freen urged, her tone softer now, laced with a hint of sincerity.

Reluctantly, Rebecca sank back into her seat, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. What could Freen possibly have to say that warranted her attention now? With a wary gaze, she waited for Freen to speak, her heart still racing with uncertainty.

"So how about your revenge? What should we do now?"Freen's question hung in the air like a lingering storm cloud, casting a shadow over their already tense conversation. Rebecca's gaze sharpened as she considered Freen's words, her mind racing with thoughts of retribution and justice. "I want to take back everything that belongs to me," she declared, her voice firm with determination.

She continued, her tone tinged with a simmering anger. "My artwork, my creations—they're mine, not Orn's. Mother may have locked them away in the store and allowed Orn to claim credit for them, but I refuse to let them continue to be stolen from me," she stated, her jaw set in a determined line.

Freen nodded in understanding, her own resolve matching Rebecca's. "We'll make them pay for what they've done," she vowed, her voice low with a steely determination. "We'll reclaim your artwork, expose Orn's deception, and ensure that you receive the recognition and respect you deserve."

Rebecca's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile as she nodded in agreement. Together, they would embark on a journey of reclaiming what was rightfully theirs, leaving no stone unturned in their quest for justice. With Freen by her side, Rebecca felt a renewed sense of strength and purpose, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in their pursuit of revenge.

"Dont worry too much. I will help you." Freen said, before taking another spoon of the soup

Freen's declaration caught Rebecca off guard, her surprise evident in the way her eyebrows shot up in amazement. She watched in awe as Freen devoured the soup with gusto, her appetite seemingly insatiable. With a mischievous smirk, Rebecca couldn't help but tease her companion. "Does my cooking really impress you that much?" she quipped, her tone playful as she observed Freen's enthusiastic response.

But Freen's response sent a pang of disappointment coursing through Rebecca's veins, her heart sinking at the harshness of her words. "Euw no. Not that good. My ex-wife's cooking is better," Freen remarked dismissively before abruptly standing up and walking away, leaving Rebecca to grapple with the sting of rejection.

As she watched Freen's retreating figure, a whirlwind of emotions churned within Rebecca's chest. Hurt, confusion, and a profound sense of loss mingled together, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Why did Freen's words affect her so deeply? Why did she feel a longing for something she couldn't quite name?

With a heavy sigh, Rebecca pushed aside her tumultuous thoughts, determined to focus on the task at hand. But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that her connection with Freen ran deeper than either of them dared to admit. And as she stared after Freen, her heart ached with the weight of unspoken desires and unfulfilled dreams.

what is this?