"A Flame that Fades"

Chapter 2: The Weight of an Unwanted Union

Freya's POV

With the veela in place, I opened my eyes and forced my focus onto my breakfast, my toast now cold and neglected on the plate. It was a familiar routine, yet somehow the warmth from the moment felt like it slipped away as soon as Manny walked through the door, his presence almost suffocating. I poked at my buttered jam toast, but the flavors were muted, lost amid the noise of memories and expectations.

"Good morning, Freya!" he greeted, his voice cheerily slicing through the quiet. I didn't look up, keeping my gaze fixed on the table as I attempted to shrink away from his overbearing enthusiasm. I gave a half-hearted nod, trying to blend into the background, but he was impossible to ignore.

"So," he began, leaning in with that self-important grin, "now that you're twenty, we thought it was time to talk about your future."

A sigh slipped out of me before I could stop it. I could already feel the air thickening around us, the familiar tension brewing as his words echoed the same conversation we'd had too many times before. The prospect of another attempt to dictate my life felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, and I knew exactly where this was heading.

Before Manny could continue further with his "reasons you should marry now" speech, my mother intervened. "Manny, love, I don't think this is the right moment for Freya to consider marriage. We kind of had a rough morning," she explained, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of impatience.

Manny scoffed, pinching his temple with a frustrated grin. "Frida, she's already 20 years old. You do know that she should have been married by 16 and have kids by now, yet here we are." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defiantly, clearly unimpressed by my mother's sentiment.

The mention of my age stung. The unspoken expectations hovered in the air between us, as heavy as the tea kettle that sputtered on the stove. I watched as my mother's expression shifted, caught between defending me and adhering to the cultural norms that weighed upon our family.

"Marriage isn't a race, Manny," she replied, her voice firm but gentle, a mother bear protecting her cub. "Freya is still finding her path. Each of us has our own timeline."

"But at this rate, she'll be an old maid," he shot back, though I could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I'm just saying, don't you want her to have a family of her own? What happens when you're not around to guide her?"

Manny's words hung heavily in the air, pressing down on my chest. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I grappled with the pressure. What did it mean to be 20 and unmarried in our culture? The fact that I had my own dreams and aspirations beyond the confines of family expectations wasn't something that seemed to matter at that moment.

My mother squeezed my shoulder, a silent gesture of support, and I took that opportunity to speak up. "Manfred, I appreciate your concern, but I'm not ready for marriage yet. I want to explore who I am and what I want from life before I take such a step."

The room fell silent, my heart pounding in the quiet. I felt the weight of their gazes—Manny's disbelief and my mother's quiet assurance. There was a delicate balance between respecting tradition and forging my own path, and in that moment, I was resolute.

Manny opened his mouth to argue further, but my mother interjected again. "Freya's future is her own to shape. Let's focus on what she wants, not what society says she should do."

The tension in the room eased slightly, and I caught a glimpse of relief in my mother's eyes. Manny hesitated, then threw up his hands in surrender, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.