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

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 43

As Freen retreated to the sanctuary of her room, her emotions boiled over, a tempest of anger and frustration raging within her. With each kick against the bed's leg, she felt a release—a fleeting moment of catharsis amidst the storm that raged inside her.

Kick and kick, hard and rough. Yes, she hurted her own self.

But as her feet began to ache from the force of her blows, reality crashed back in, reminding her of the futility of her actions. Blood trickled from the wounds on her feet, a painful reminder of the physical toll of her rage.

"F-ck," she cursed through gritted teeth, her hands trembling as she reached up to grip her hair in frustration. This wasn't like her—not at all. Never before had she been consumed by such overwhelming jealousy, such uncontrollable rage.

With a heavy sigh, Freen slumped onto the bed, her grip on the mattress tight as she tried to steady her racing thoughts. But the anger, the disappointment, the disbelief—they all swirled around her, threatening to engulf her in their suffocating embrace.

How could Rebecca have slapped her like that, in front of another man no less? The very thought sent a surge of bitterness coursing through Freen's veins, her mind racing with questions and doubts.

Was Rebecca truly interested in that man? Was she that easily swayed by the attention of another? The mere idea sent a pang of jealousy coursing through Freen's chest, her heart constricting with a pain she couldn't quite name.

And as she lay there, grappling with the tumult of her emotions, Freen couldn't help but feel a sense of despair wash over her. How could she ever hope to make sense of the chaos that raged within her, when even her own feelings seemed to betray her?

At the other side, As Rebecca sat alone in her room, the weight of guilt hung heavy upon her shoulders. Every thought, every emotion felt magnified in the suffocating silence that enveloped the villa.

She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her conscience—the memory of her hand connecting with Freen's cheek, the sound of the slap echoing in the air like a harsh reminder of her own shortcomings.

But amidst the turmoil of her thoughts, one thing remained clear: she was responsible for the rift that had formed between her and Freen. Her actions, driven by a moment of impulse and anger, had shattered the fragile peace that had existed between them, leaving nothing but a void of silence in its wake.

Rebecca knew she needed to find a way to make amends, to bridge the chasm that had grown between her and Freen. But as she sat alone in her room, grappling with the weight of her guilt, she couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over her.

For now, all she could do was wait—for the storm of emotions to subside, for the silence to give way to understanding, and for the chance to mend what had been broken. But deep down, Rebecca knew that the road to reconciliation would be a long and arduous one, fraught with challenges and uncertainties.

As the sky slowly turned dark, signaling the approach of evening, Rebecca found herself drawn to the kitchen by a faint sound. Curiosity tugged at her, urging her to investigate, and she soon found herself standing in the doorway, peering into the dimly lit room.