Chapter 348:
Freya exhaled softly, a subtle sense of relief flickering through her.
“Speaking of matches, when are you getting married? You’re about to hit 25,” Alan’s curiosity sparked like dry twigs catching fire. “Is there someone? What about Trent?”
Freya was caught off guard.
Alan pressed, “Come on! Say something! What’s with that look on your face?”
“You’re still single yourself,” Freya said smoothly, “so why should I be in a rush? Ask me again when you’re married with kids.”
“You cheeky little rascal!” Alan chuckled.
“Well, now that the collaboration’s done, I’m off. I’ve got work waiting.”
“Wait a minute!” Alan called out.
Freya turned back, her usual composure intact.
“Are you secretly in love and hiding the guy from us?” Alan’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Freya blinked, completely thrown. Where had that come from?
“Was it that guy who dropped you home when you were eighteen?”
“Which one?”
“The one in military boots, black coat… ridiculously good-looking.”
That made Freya’s expression shift, finally. Was he referring to her captain?
“How do you know about that?” she asked seriously now.
Back then, she’d been injured during a mission, and her captain had insisted on seeing her home. It was nearly three in the morning when they arrived, and everyone in the house had been fast asleep. Alan lived next door, not in the same household.
“So, it was him?”
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“No. He’s just one of my superiors,” Freya answered quickly, not wanting to fan any flames. Still, she asked cautiously, “Did you see his face clearly?”
“How could I, from that distance?” Alan replied truthfully. “But from his aura and gear, he seemed impossibly charming.” Even as a man, Alan had found him impressive. That kind of presence wasn’t easy to forget.
“I see,” Freya gave a relieved nod, then joked with a straight face, “If you’d seen him up close, you’d know—he’s not good-looking.”
That mentioned captain now sat in a room, polished and solemn, surrounded by mahogany furniture. His long fingers, calloused and scarred, still had a magnetic elegance. In his hand was a photo—one with eight individuals, including him and Freya.
“Impossible!” Alan muttered inwardly, trusting his own eyes. Freya no longer wished to speak of her captain. The fewer people who knew, the better.
Everyone was moving on with their lives. The captain had long devoted his to the country. She didn’t want to drag him into everyday conversations—it didn’t feel right.
Later that afternoon, after wrapping things up with Shaw Group, Freya planned to return to her own company. But her phone buzzed with a string of messages from Ethel.
The conversation opened with a parade of exclamation marks.
“You won’t believe what just happened at home!” “Dad is dumbfounded.”
Freya responded with a question mark.
“Kristian Shaw is here.”
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