The Bride Who Said No: Escaping the Shadows of Yesterday

Preston peered over the contract, its terms laid out in stark simplicity as if to ensure Freya had no trouble understanding them. The clauses particularly favorable to Freya were even bolded for emphasis. After Freya confirmed everything looked good, she signed her name. When Hans passed the contract to Preston, Preston didn't glance at it before scribbling his signature.

Freya stood up, ready to leave. "Mr. Tyler, I'll be on my way if nothing else."

"Weren't you supposed to work on your left hand?" Preston asked, his voice tinged with nonchalance. "Giving up on that?"

"Dr. Anderson was supposed to help me with physical therapy for that. Unless you're telling me you're an expert in that too?"

Neil interrupted from the side, "Preston might not be a therapist, but he sure can teach you a thing or two if you're willing."

Unfortunately for Preston, Freya wasn't interested in his help and declined outright. Just as she left, she realized Hans had sneakily shut the door.

Freya turned to face Preston again, who coldly asked, "Would you prefer to sit on your own, or shall I help you?"

Freya's expression darkened. So much for Neil seeming like a decent guy, she thought. He was clearly in cahoots with Preston.

"Fine, Mr. Tyler. How do you plan to 'teach' me?" Freya asked, her voice dripping with reluctance as she sat down again.

"Let's see your hand," Preston said plainly.

Freya

ed her right hand,

e scars and injuries that

the simple act of holding

n challenging.

"Try writing something," Preston instructed.

Rolling her eyes internally, Freya complied. It took her agonizingly long to scrawl out a word in shaky letters.

"At this rate, you won't even finish the first question in the exam," Preston remarked dryly.

Freya didn't need the reminder. She was painfully aware of her limitations. The upcoming exam was crucial. And she'd do whatever it took to participate, even if it meant writing with a broken hand

"Now, try with your left hand," Preston suggested next.

Though not injured, writing with her left hand proved clumsy and slow. The letters were barely legible.

Preston glanced over and said, "You

might as

Coord give up. With

that, I'd suggest

you think about dropping out or

repeating the year."

"Summit University doesn't do repeats," Freya retorted, frustration seeping into her voice.