Raven King’s Bride

Freya Stone adjusted her thick glasses nervously as she dashed through the corridors of the university, her frizzy hair bouncing with every hurried step. She was late—again. This time, it wasn’t because she had overslept or misplaced her lecture notes, but because she had spent far too much time scouring the internet that morning, determined to find the perfect birthday gift for her boyfriend, Will. As she ran past the mirrored panels of the hallway, a quick glance at her reflection made her cringe. Her hair was an untamable mess, her face barely visible behind the thick frames of her glasses. Her baggy sweater hung awkwardly over her shoulders, and her loose pants did nothing to complement her figure. Freya sighed. She wasn’t vain, but she knew she wasn’t much to look at. Still, none of it mattered because Will had chosen her. Will, the man everyone seemed to adore. He was a Law Professor and a practicing lawyer. And god, he was handsome—so effortlessly perfect with his broad shoulders, striking blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes that could command an entire room. Freya often wondered what he had seen in her. She wasn’t glamorous or charming like the other women in the university. She didn’t turn heads in the hallway or leave people spellbound with witty remarks. No, she was just Freya: quiet, awkward, and painfully ordinary. And yet, he had chosen her. He had told her that it was her kindness that drew him in, her quiet generosity. It was enough for Freya to believe she was lucky beyond measure. Her heart raced as she clutched the strap of her satchel tighter, the weight of the day ahead bearing down on her. Will’s birthday was tonight. He had insisted he didn’t want any celebrations, claiming he wasn’t fond of the attention. But Freya wasn’t going to let the day slip by without showing him how much she cared. She had found the perfect gift: a sleek, expensive watch she knew he had been eyeing for months. It had cost more than she was comfortable spending, but Freya didn’t care. Will was worth it. As she rounded the corner to her classroom, she collided with someone, the impact knocking her back a step. Her satchel slipped from her shoulder, almost hitting the floor, but a strong hand caught her arm. “Ah, Miss Stone,” a deep voice said, steady and calm, “you might get hurt if you run at that speed.” Freya’s breath quickened. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She knew the voice, the subtle cologne—fresh and woodsy. It was Will. Blinking up at him, she felt her face flush with excitement. “Will, I—” His face, however, was stoic, his cool blue eyes unreadable. “I’m sorry,” she began, fumbling for an explanation, but before she could say more, Will’s grip loosened, and he stepped back. “And Miss Stone,” he added, his voice softer, “don’t forget to keep things… discreet. You know how unprofessional it would look if anyone knew.” Freya nodded quickly. “Of course. I haven’t said anything. I wouldn’t.” Will didn’t reply. Instead, he gave her the faintest nod, then turned and strode away, his polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor. Freya watched him go, her chest tightening. She knew he was just being cautious, but a part of her wished he wouldn’t be so distant when others were around. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was as worried about professionalism as he was about being seen with someone like her. But she pushed the thought aside. Will loved her. He had said so, and she would believe him. Tonight, she would make him happy. After her classes ended, Freya hurried home. The towering gates of her estate loomed before her, the wrought iron vines curling into delicate patterns. She fished her key from her pocket and pushed the gates open, walking up the gravel driveway. The mansion stood like a grand, silent sentinel amidst the sprawling grounds. It was a gift from her late aunt, a relative she barely knew but who had left her everything. The house, the land, the fortune—it was hers. But Freya rarely spoke of it. She didn’t want to be treated differently, didn’t want people to see her as anything but the quiet history teacher. Inside, the house was still and vast. The echoes of her footsteps were her only company. Though it was her home, she never quite felt as if she belonged in such a place. The grandeur was overwhelming—the marble floors, the chandeliers, the endless rooms. Sometimes, she felt like an intruder in her own life. Freya didn’t dwell on the thought for long. She had plans for the evening, and she was determined to make them perfect. She rushed upstairs, showered, and changed into something she hoped looked nice. Freya stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of her dress. She’d chosen the sleek black gown from the back of her closet, hoping it would make her look elegant, but it only emphasized how plain she felt. She tried taming her wild, frizzy hair, but the strands refused to cooperate, springing back defiantly. Her makeup—carefully applied to conceal her insecurities—looked uneven under the harsh light, and her thick glasses still dominated her face no matter how much she adjusted them. She sighed heavily. She wanted to look beautiful for Will, but no matter what she did, she still felt invisible. Carefully, she wrapped the watch in crisp gold paper and placed it in a small velvet box. She imagined the surprise on Will’s face, the rare smile that would curve his lips when he opened it. It made her heart flutter. Freya arrived at Will’s apartment just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Her hands trembled as she clutched the small gift box. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then gently reached for the handle. The door wasn’t locked. She pushed it open slowly, stepping inside. The living room lights were dimmed, the faint glow of a lamp casting shadows across the walls. She moved toward the laughter, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. When she reached the bedroom, she froze. The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she saw it. A scene that broke her.