Chapter 3
Freya's POV
After the awkward shopping center incident, I started a one-sided cold war.
For three days, Brian bombarded my phone like a maniac. Text after text, call after call, even waiting outside my dorm building.
"Freya, can we please talk?"
"You can't keep running away like this!"
"Please, just give me a chance to explain!"
I either replied coldly with "busy" or ignored him completely. Watching him grow more desperate, I felt nothing.
The old me would have softened, would have been moved by his "sincerity," would have given him another chance. But not this time.
Having experienced betrayal and death, I finally understood one truth—some people don't deserve your kindness.
Last night, I made a decision: move out of this apartment.
Since I knew Connor was coming, since I knew what would happen here, why should I stay and die? If Hestia wanted to play her victim game, she could play it alone.
I contacted off-campus rental companies and found a nice studio apartment. The only issue was needing a week to process paperwork and move.
I calculated the timeline—today was September 19th, just over a week before Connor would appear. Perfect timing.
Walking back from the library, Brian suddenly jumped out from around a corner, blocking my path.
"Finally caught you!" He was panting, obviously having run to catch up.
I stopped, looking at him expressionlessly. "What?"
"Of course there's something!" Brian said angrily. "You've been avoiding me for three days without giving me a decent explanation!"
"What explanation do I owe you?" I laughed coldly. "We haven't even broken up."
"Then why are you being so cold to me?" Brian stepped closer, his green eyes full of confusion and hurt. "Just because of a little misunderstanding while shopping?"
"Little misunderstanding?" I found it amusing. "Brian, do you know how I felt that day at the mall?"
"I..."
"I stood there like an outsider, watching you two reminisce about the past, watching you accept her fashion advice without question, watching you two exchange glances." My voice grew colder. "That moment I realized—in your heart, I'll never compare to her."
"That's not true!" Brian desperately denied it. "Freya, I love YOU!"
"Love?" I scoffed. "Brian, do you even know what love means? Love is putting the other person first, standing by them without hesitation when they need you. And you?"
I stepped closer to him. "You always prioritize Hestia's feelings, always want me to understand her, accommodate her, cater to her. Have you ever considered MY feelings?"
Brian was speechless, his face turning red.
"Do you want a girlfriend, or do you want Hestia's supporting actress?" I stared into his eyes. "If it's the latter, congratulations—you already have one."
"I don't treat you like a supporting actress!" Brian finally exploded. "It's YOU! You're too jealous, too possessive to tolerate my friendships!"
"Friendship?" I was getting angry now. "Brian, is THIS what normal friendship looks like? She manipulates your every decision and you don't even notice. She hints to everyone that SHE'S your girlfriend, and you think it's just a misunderstanding."
"She's not manipulating me!" Brian angrily retorted. "You're overthinking this! Hestia just needs support from friends—she's been insecure since childhood..."
"ENOUGH!" I cut him off. "Listen to yourself! Even while fighting with me, you're still defending her!"
Brian froze, seeming to realize what he'd just said.
"Freya, I..."
"You're too close to her, and it makes me uncomfortable!" I finally said what was in my heart. "I need you to keep your distance from her."
"What?" Brian looked at me in disbelief. "You're trying to control me!"
"Am I?" I laughed coldly. "Then what if SHE asked you to keep your distance from me? What would you choose?"
Brian opened his mouth but couldn't speak.
Looking at his expression, I already knew the answer.
"Your silence IS the answer." I turned to leave. "We have nothing more to talk about."
"Freya!" Brian called after me. "You can't do this! She's just a poor girl who needs friends!"
Poor girl?
I paused, remembering my past life's final moments. That "poor girl" had watched me get stabbed to death, then perfectly disguised herself as the victim.
"Yeah," I said without looking back, "she really is pitiful."
Pitiful enough to use someone else's blood to gain sympathy.
Pushing open the dorm door, I heard sobbing from the living room.
Hestia sat on the couch, clutching a pillow, looking at me with teary eyes.
"Freya..." her voice choked, "are you really moving out?"
I was stunned. How did she know?
"I heard you on the balcony making calls..." Hestia stood up, tears flowing harder. "Why? Is it because of me?"
Damn, I'd forgotten about calling the rental company on the balcony last night.
"It's not about you," I said coldly. "I just want independent space."
"But haven't we been getting along great?" Hestia walked toward me. "If I did something wrong, I can change..."
"Nothing's wrong." I walked around her toward my room. "I've already decided."
"It's about Brian, isn't it?" Hestia suddenly said. "You think I ruined your relationship?"
I stopped.
"Freya, I really didn't mean anything by it!" Hestia cried harder. "Brian and I are just friends—childhood friends! I never thought about stealing him..."
"You never thought about it?" I turned to look at her. "Then what was deliberately not correcting that misunderstanding while shopping? What was coaching him on how to appease me? What was constantly interrupting?"
Hestia's crying paused. "I... I was just trying to help you two..."
"Help us?" I laughed coldly. "Or help yourself establish a presence?"
"I didn't!" Hestia desperately denied it. "Freya, you're misunderstanding me! I really consider you my best friend..."
"Friend?" I felt sick. "Hestia, do you know what real friends are like?"
I stepped closer to her. "Real friends don't compete with you at every turn, don't play victim in front of your boyfriend, don't deliberately create misunderstandings then act innocent."
Hestia was intimidated by my presence and backed away.
"And," I moved closer, "real friends don't hide in their rooms and watch you die when you're in danger."
Hestia's face went pale instantly. "What... what are you talking about?"
I stared at her coldly, saying nothing.
"Freya, what are you babbling about!" Hestia's voice sounded panicked. "What danger? What watching me die?"
Watching her act innocent, my fury finally exploded.
"ENOUGH!" I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.
The sharp sound echoed through the living room.
Hestia covered her face, looking at me in disbelief. "You... you hit me?"
"Yes, I hit you." I shook my stinging hand. "That slap was for me."
"You're CRAZY!" Hestia screamed. "I didn't do anything! What gives you the right to hit me?"
"Did nothing?" I laughed coldly. "You've been scheming against me, against Brian, against everyone since day one. You think your little tricks are so clever?"
Just then, the door was pushed open forcefully, and Brian rushed in, panting.
"What happened?" He saw the handprint on Hestia's face and immediately stood protectively in front of her, glaring at me angrily. "Freya! How could you hit her?"
Here we go—the knight in shining armor arrives.
"She started it!" I smiled sarcastically. "Your little princess got bullied—go comfort her."
"You..." Brian was too angry to speak.
Hestia began her performance, throwing herself into Brian's arms and crying. "Brian, I don't know what I did wrong... she just hit me... I'm so scared..."
"It's okay, it's okay." Brian gently rubbed her back, then looked at me furiously. "Freya, you've gone too far!"
"Too far?" I found it funny. "I just gave her a taste of what it feels like to be hurt."
"Hestia has never hurt you!" Brian roared. "You're just jealous and maliciously attacking her!"
"Malicious attack?" I laughed loudly. "Brian, you're so naive. When you finally see her true face, remember what I said today."
With that, I turned toward my room.
"Freya!" Brian called after me. "Apologize to Hestia!"
I didn't look back. "In your dreams."
SLAM! I slammed my door shut.
Through the door, I could hear Hestia's crying and Brian's comforting voice outside.
The old me would have softened at this moment, would have regretted it, would have apologized first.
But not this time.
