Chapter 67: A Weekend That Felt Normal

Martin Vale had given them more than enough to investigate, but Derek needed time to verify Greyline and the old corporate records. Instead of immediately returning to the city, Louis suggested they stay until Sunday as originally planned.

Freya stared at him. "You actually want to take a weekend off?"

"You told everyone we were coming here for a weekend."

"That was the cover story."

"It can also be true."

For once, Freya had no deadline that couldn't wait several hours. She agreed.

They spent the morning walking through the harbor market. Freya bought handmade stationery from a small shop and stopped at nearly every stall selling local crafts. Louis followed without complaint.

"You don't like shopping," he observed.

"I don't like shopping for expensive things just because they're expensive. This is different."

She bought a small carved wooden lighthouse for the apartment. Louis looked at it. "We don't need that."

"Decor doesn't have to be necessary."

"You criticized the cartoon toothpick holder for being unnecessary last week."

"That was before I became emotionally attached to it."

They ate lunch at a crowded seafood restaurant where nobody recognized Louis. Freya found the anonymity refreshing. No one cared about Stone Holdings, his bankruptcy, or their marriage.

After lunch, they walked along the beach. The weather was cold enough that few people were outside.

Freya removed her shoes and stepped onto the wet sand anyway.

"You're going to freeze," Louis said.

"Probably."

A wave reached farther than expected and soaked the bottom of her trousers. Freya jumped backward, laughing. Louis caught her elbow before she slipped.

For several seconds, neither moved.

The moment felt similar to the crossing after their dinner date, except there was no bicycle and no immediate reason for Louis to keep holding her.

Freya looked at his hand.

Louis released her.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're reckless around moving objects."

"A wave isn't an object."

"You know what I mean."

Later, they sat on a bench overlooking the water. Freya rested her head against the back and closed her eyes.

"This is nice," she said.

Louis looked toward her. "The town?"

"Not investigating conspiracies for three hours."

He smiled faintly.

When they returned to the hotel, Freya placed the wooden lighthouse beside her laptop. She realized she had bought something purely because she wanted a memory of the day.

That realization made her uncomfortable.

Her life with Louis was supposed to be temporary. Temporary people weren't supposed to collect shared memories.

At dinner, Louis asked whether she wanted to return sometime when everything settled.

Freya answered before thinking. "Yes."

Neither mentioned how far into the future that answer assumed they would still be together.

For one quiet day, they weren't a fallen tycoon and his unexpectedly loyal wife, or two people uncovering an old conspiracy. They were simply Freya and Louis, spending a weekend by the sea. Somehow, that ordinary version of them felt more dangerous to Freya's original plan than any enemy had.

That night, Freya wrote only a few hundred words before closing her laptop. Normally she would have forced herself to meet the day's target. Instead, she chose sleep and the memory of the harbor. It was another tiny change she didn't notice immediately: she was beginning to treat happiness as something worth scheduling too, not merely a distraction from survival.

There were still too many unanswered questions to draw a final conclusion. Each discovery clarified one part of the past while exposing another missing piece. For now, they agreed to preserve what they had found, verify every connection carefully, and avoid giving Victor any reason to suspect that the old records had resurfaced.