Chapter 377: Awake Stories Gets a Submission

The next development arrived before Freya had fully processed the last one. Days later, Awake Stories receives a legitimate new submission through its public portal from an author account named Bailey Shepard.

Months of dealing with Crosswind had taught her that urgency and panic were not the same thing. Urgency required clear decisions. Panic encouraged people to fill missing facts with whatever explanation frightened them most. Freya had already spent one life and the beginning of another surrounded by stories powerful enough to distort judgment.

Automated checks show the account was newly created and passed ordinary identity-verification requirements, but editors quarantine the submission before opening it.

Louis remained beside her without attempting to take control. That mattered more than he probably realized. Their argument over his hidden backup plan had changed the rules between them. He still offered security, resources, and advice, but when a decision concerned Freya directly, he waited for her answer instead of quietly making it on her behalf.

Trust had not magically repaired itself. Freya did not want it to. Easy forgiveness would only make the same habits convenient again. What she wanted was evidence of change repeated often enough that she no longer had to wonder whether Louis would retreat into secrecy whenever he became afraid.

For his part, Louis seemed to understand. He answered questions he would once have considered unnecessary. He disclosed meetings before they became relevant. When he did not know something, he said exactly that instead of offering a controlled half-answer. None of it was romantic in the dramatic sense, but Freya found the effort more persuasive than expensive gifts.

The investigation continued under the same discipline. Derek preserved timelines and access records. Mercer separated technical facts from theories. Claire reviewed narrative material only when necessary. Lawyers ensured that evidence connected to Crosswind's victims remained usable. Nobody was permitted to run an experiment merely because curiosity demanded one.

Freya protected her ordinary life just as carefully. Sunroom's cultural-center project was now moving from drawings into difficult real-world coordination. Contractors discovered problems hidden behind old walls. Costs shifted. Materials arrived late. Those complications were frustrating, but they were refreshingly honest. A damaged beam did not pretend to be destiny.

Awake Stories was growing too. Freya had delegated more editorial authority, yet she still reviewed strategic decisions and major acquisitions. She wanted the company to become something that could survive without depending on her constant attention. Perhaps that instinct came from her first life. Perhaps it came from waking beside a mountain of luxury bags and realizing how quickly apparent security could disappear.

At home, she and Louis had begun sharing the bedroom again, though some nights they still stayed awake talking longer than either intended. The conversations were not always comfortable. Freya asked about the bankruptcy deception when another detail bothered her, and Louis answered even when he wished the subject were finished.

Neither of them used the Crosswind mystery to avoid those conversations. That was important. A strange machine predicting their compatibility did not absolve Louis of lying. An arranged marriage influenced by Marianne's research did not make Freya's decision to stay meaningless. Their relationship had to survive on present choices, not explanations about how it began.

Freya wrote that sentence in her notebook after the day's work was finished.

Present choices.

The phrase looked almost too ordinary beside terms like Identity Bridge, Mirror, prior instance, and source world. Maybe that was why she liked it.

She had once believed the most important question was how she entered this novel. Later, she wondered whether the novel had ever truly been fiction. Now she understood that even a perfect explanation would not tell her how to live tomorrow.

That part remained stubbornly manual.

Freya closed the notebook and looked toward the window. The city outside continued without waiting for her mystery to be solved. Cars moved through intersections. Office lights went dark one floor at a time. Somewhere, people were beginning relationships, ending them, making mistakes, changing jobs, and choosing paths no model could observe completely.

Whatever happened next, she intended to remain one of them.