Chapter 227 The Divorce That Wasn’t
Chapter 227 The Divorce That Wasn’t
“You–you-”
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Louis fought to control the heat rising in him, ruffling Freya’s hair with slightly more force than usual. His voice came out rough. “Stop overthinking things.”
But Freya had always been sharp when it mattered. The initial shock faded fast, her mind already racing ahead. She met his calm gaze head–on and asked the one question that truly mattered.
“So you’re not planning to divorce me anymore?”
“When did I ever say I wanted a divorce? You’re the one who kept bringing it up.”
“But we agreed we’d split once your career stabilized!”
“Did we? I only said we couldn’t divorce then. Never set a timeline.”
11
Freya froze. Racking her brain, she realized Louis had indeed never committed to an actual separation.
Did he play me?
Her wide, confused eyes staring up at him–equal parts adorable and pitiful–softened Louis completely. He gentled his voice.
“Then tell me this–why must we divorce? Do you hate me?”
She shook her head instantly. *Who could hate someone this perfect?* Especially when he’d been nothing but kind.
“But that’s not the point!” She squared her shoulders. “We’re incompatible.”
“How so?” His tone turned dangerously smooth–the kind that made you want to confess everything. Had Baylon and Kendrick been present, they’d have pitied Freya. This was Louis‘ interrogation voice, reserved for luring targets into traps.
“Where do I even start? Our upbringings, life experiences, family backgrounds… ‘Marrying your own kind‘ has been a rule since ancient times for good reason. Don’t you think so?”
“And what defines ‘your own kind?” Louis tilted his head. “Are you going to say we have different values next? Then tell me–what are values?”
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Chapter 227 The Divorce That Wasn’t
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Freya bit her lip. “Your own kind‘ means matching education levels, similar family status, comparable looks, parents with equivalent knowledge backgrounds, and equal wealth. Values mean worldview, life philosophy, and moral principles–those need alignment too.”
Louis began counting off on his fingers.
“No living parents on either side. Both Ivy League graduates. Equally attractive. Currently cash–strapped but with strong earning potential–sounds matched to me.”
As Freya gaped, he continued.
“Worldview? Raised in Uzaka with the same national education system. Life philosophy? Both ambitious contributors to society and family. Moral principles?” He gestured around. “You control our household spending. It’s hard to disagree there.”
Freya’s mouth opened and closed.
Wait… when he puts it like that…
But something still felt off.
“No! You grew up wealthy while I was middle–class. That’s a fundamental difference!”
“Grandfather raised me to live frugally.” Louis‘ voice took on a melancholy note. “In practice, was my childhood really so different from yours?”
The sudden vulnerability in this usually privileged man twisted Freya’s heart.
Way to stomp on a sore spot.
“Sorry… I forgot.”
“It’s fine.” His eyes held hers. “Any other objections?”
Strangely, she couldn’t think of any.
Yet unspoken doubts still churned inside her–her transmigrator identity, whether Louis truly loved her or just felt indebted, if he stayed simply because she was familiar.
These questions lodged in her throat. Silent and conflicted, she stared at the carpet, radiating hesitation like a storm cloud.
