We Were Thunder Pretending to Be Lovers in the Storm by Coren Elen Vey 29 Summary
In “We Were Thunder Pretending to Be Lovers in the Storm,” Treya finally makes her entrance after a long wait, captivating those around her with her beauty and elegance. Her arrival is marked by a sense of anticipation as she descends the staircase, dressed in a pale green gown that highlights her delicate features. The driver is momentarily taken aback, reflecting the impact of her presence. The journey to the Pearson estate unfolds against a backdrop of a stunning sunset, setting the stage for the emotional encounters that are about to unfold.
As Treya steps out of the vehicle, she catches the attention of Felix, who is filled with nostalgia as he recalls their high school days. This moment is bittersweet, as he reminisces about the joy she brought him, contrasting sharply with the current tension between them. Treya’s attempt to maintain her composure is palpable, especially when she feels the weight of Felix’s expectations and the underlying resentment from the children, Etty and Emmy. Their reactions highlight the strained dynamics within the family, leaving Treya feeling isolated and longing for connection.
The atmosphere shifts dramatically when Felix embraces Treya, a gesture that fills her with disgust rather than affection. His compliment about her dress stirs painful memories, revealing the complexities of their relationship. Treya’s internal struggle is evident as she grapples with feelings of worthlessness and betrayal, especially when she senses the lingering scent of another woman on Felix. This moment serves as a catalyst for Treya’s realization of the hostility directed toward her, particularly from Emmy, who openly expresses her disdain for Treya, referring to her as a “bad woman.”
Meanwhile, Sinclair observes the scene from a distance, wrestling with his own emotions as he witnesses Treya’s vulnerability. His intentions to confront her about Felix’s infidelity are overshadowed by the pain of seeing her in such a compromised position. The narrative deftly weaves together themes of love, betrayal, and the masks people wear, particularly as Sinclair discovers that Treya may not be as helpless as she appears. The revelation that she might be pretending to be blind adds another layer of intrigue, suggesting that Treya is playing a complex game of her own, challenging the perceptions of those around her.
In the end, the chapter leaves readers with a sense of foreboding and curiosity about the characters’ next moves. The emotional turmoil experienced by Treya, Felix, and Sinclair sets the stage for a deeper exploration of their intertwined lives, hinting at the storms yet to come. The rich imagery and emotional depth create a compelling narrative that invites readers to ponder the nature of love, deception, and the lengths one might go to reclaim their power.
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**We Were Thunder Pretending to Be Lovers in the Storm by Coren Elen Vey**
Forty minutes had slipped by when Treya finally descended the staircase.
Her long, obsidian hair was elegantly twisted into a bun, held in place by a wooden hairpin adorned with glimmering jade. The absence of makeup on her face revealed a complexion as delicate as porcelain, with only a subtle hint of lipstick to infuse a splash of color. The pale green dress she had chosen clung to her figure, accentuating her slender frame and casting an ethereal glow that was both understated and captivating in its quiet sophistication.
The driver who had arrived to escort her was taken aback for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise. Quickly, he averted his gaze, flustered, and opened the rear door for her with a sense of reverence.
The Pearson family estate was quite a distance from the villa. By the time they reached their destination, the sky had transitioned into a tapestry of dusk, painted with shades of crimson that seemed to set the horizon ablaze.
As Freya stepped out of the vehicle, another car approached from the opposite direction. Inside that vehicle was Felix, who immediately caught sight of her standing gracefully by the roadside. The evening breeze danced around her, lifting the hem of her dress, and in that moment, she resembled a lotus blooming amidst the chaos of the world.
He tapped the horn lightly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the evening. The brief honk made her instinctively turn her face toward him, and behind her, the stunning sunset formed a breathtaking backdrop. She appeared almost luminescent against the fiery sky.
Felix narrowed his eyes slightly, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.
Suddenly, his thoughts drifted back to their high school days—specifically to that one afternoon when she had stood at the school gate, waiting for him. She had donned the summer uniform: a crisp white blouse paired with a pleated skirt, her ponytail swaying gently in the breeze. There was a cool aloofness to her youthful beauty, a sense of untouchable grace.
But when her gaze met his, everything changed. Her eyes sparkled with joy, illuminating her face as she called out his name with unrestrained delight, her hand waving vigorously in his direction, radiating life and energy.
Passersby had turned to look at her, drawn in by her exuberance, yet her focus remained solely on him.
In that moment, Felix couldn’t help but feel a swell of vanity; it was a satisfaction that coursed through him. He thought, as long as she remained compliant, he wouldn’t mind keeping her in the role of Mrs. Pearson indefinitely.
He exited the car, feeling a sense of purpose.
From the back seat, Etty unbuckled himself first and then reached out to assist Emmy down.
Freya, maintaining her charade of blindness, listened intently as the two children raced toward her, their footsteps echoing with excitement. She fought the impulse to reach out and envelop them in her arms, yearning for a connection that seemed just out of reach.
“Is that Etty and Emmy?” she asked, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she extended her hand in their direction.
But Emmy, with a determined expression, kept her face stoic. As she passed Freya, she shot her a glare, her small frame filled with defiance, before darting away in laughter.
“Auntie!”
She flung herself into the embrace of Chelsea Pearson, who had come out to greet them at the door.
Even Etty, who was usually less overtly hostile, merely cast a fleeting glance at Treya, shaking his head in disappointment before turning away.
The smile that had adorned Freya’s lips faltered, freezing in place as an uncomfortable stillness enveloped her. Just as she was about to withdraw her hand, Felix approached and grasped it firmly.
She opened her mouth to offer an excuse to pull away, but before she could utter a word, he smoothly drew her into his arms. His other hand slid along the curve of her back, settling at her waist.
A wave of disgust coursed through her, goosebumps rising on her skin as she fought to maintain her composure.
Leaning in close, Felix whispered in that soft, practiced tone that he wielded like a weapon. “Treya, you look absolutely stunning today. When did you acquire this dress? It suits you perfectly.”
Freya was momentarily at a loss for words.
Had he truly forgotten? It had been his offhand remark years prior, “This dress is too plain for you,” that had led her to stow it away in the depths of her closet, allowing it to gather dust.
In those fleeting seconds he remained close, she noticed something beyond the familiar scent of the men’s cologne he always wore—a faint trace of a woman’s perfume lingered in the air.
The same scent she had detected earlier that day on Vanessa.
A chill washed over her, and she began to connect the dots.
Now she understood why the children had been so inexplicably hostile toward her.
“Brother, how long are you two going to keep hugging?” Chelsea called out from behind, holding Emmy close.
Emmy buried her face against her aunt’s shoulder, muttering, “Let’s go, Auntie. I don’t want to go in with that bad woman.”
That bad woman who bullied her “Mommy Vanessa”!
Chelsea raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What’s wrong, Emmy? Why do you call her a bad woman?”
Her concern for Freya was minimal; she was simply taken aback. Emmy was typically cheerful and polite to everyone; it was unusual for her to hurl insults.
Emmy remained silent, squirming in her aunt’s arms, urging, “Let’s go, Auntie!”
“Alright, alright.” Chelsea smiled indulgently, carrying her inside.
As she glanced over, she noticed Etty striding ahead, hands tucked casually into his pockets, exuding an air of cool detachment.
Felix guided Freya’s hand onto his arm, and together they walked through the grand front doors.
Unbeknownst to them, a sleek black luxury sedan sat quietly in the shadows along the tree-lined drive. The rear window was lowered, revealing a man’s hand holding a cigarette, the pale, slender fingers tapping rhythmically, flicking away the ash that the wind swiftly scattered.
Sinclair sat shrouded in darkness, his cold black eyes fixated on Freya’s delicate figure. She leaned against Felix, fragile as a vine clinging to him for support.
His lashes lowered slightly, concealing the tumultuous emotions swirling within him.
Freya, you truly… haven’t learned a single thing.
Miles, the driver, could almost feel the oppressive chill enveloping the car. He dared not break the silence, waiting for a long moment before cautiously asking, “President Cedric… when are we going in?”
Sinclair’s gaze flicked to a brown envelope lying on the seat beside him.
A photograph had slipped halfway out, revealing a man and woman locked in an embrace. The man’s face was obscured, but even from the back, it was unmistakably Felix. The woman in his arms, beaming with joy, was none other than his secretary, Vanessa.
He had accepted Brent Pearson’s invitation for the evening solely to deliver this little piece of news to Freya in person.
Yet, witnessing her cling to Felix like that, he imagined the heartbreak she would endure if she discovered his infidelity.
An image flashed in his mind: years ago, Freya weeping in front of him.
She had curled up, silent, large tears cascading down her cheeks like pearls slipping from a broken string, crying so fiercely, yet without a sound…
Sinclair cursed under his breath, extinguishing the cigarette in irritation.
“Back to the office,” he commanded coldly.
“Yes, sir.” Miles could sense his boss’s foul mood and didn’t dare ask further questions, swiftly turning the car around.
As they pulled away, Sinclair’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID, his expression darkening, and answered curtly, “Speak.”
A respectful voice came through the line.
“Mr. Cedric, the test results are in. Based on five years of monitoring Miss Freya’s health data and her responses to medication, her optic nerves have recovered remarkably well. There’s no indication of damage.”
Sinclair’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “So… she can’t possibly be blind?”
The man replied cautiously, “If the eyelid muscles go unused for an extended period, it can lead to difficulty in opening the eyes, but with exercise, they can regain function. The likelihood of actual blindness is extremely low.”
If he had merely suspected that she was faking her blindness after their encounter at the restaurant, he was now convinced—she was pretending.
Outside, the neon lights and shadows of the city flickered across his deep, dark eyes. The coldness that had enveloped him began to fade, replaced by a hint of curiosity.
Faking blindness…
He tapped a finger thoughtfully against the armrest, his expression shifting to one of subtle intrigue.
Freya, just what game are you playing?
Conclusion
In the crescendo of emotions that enveloped Freya, the evening’s events unfolded like a tempestuous storm, revealing the fragility of her existence amidst the harsh realities of her life. The moment Felix embraced her, a wave of revulsion surged through her, awakening the painful memories of her past and the bitterness of her present. The children’s hostility, a reflection of the turmoil brewing within her heart, underscored her isolation in a world that had once promised warmth and affection. The façade she had crafted—her pretended blindness—was not merely a shield against the harshness of her circumstances but also a desperate attempt to reclaim agency over her own narrative. As she stood there, caught between the past and the present, the weight of her choices bore down on her, leaving her teetering on the edge of despair and determination.
Meanwhile, Sinclair’s revelation about Freya’s health ignited a flicker of intrigue within him, transforming his cold demeanor into one of cautious curiosity. The realization that she might be faking her blindness suggested a layer of resilience he had not anticipated. As he pulled away from the scene, the shadows of the city mirrored the complexities of their intertwined lives, hinting at the storm that lay ahead. Freya’s silent struggle and Sinclair’s newfound interest set the stage for an inevitable confrontation, where truths would be unveiled, and the masks they wore would be stripped away. In this intricate dance of emotions, both characters stood on the precipice of transformation, poised to challenge the very foundations of their lives and the choices that had led them to this moment.
What to Expect in Next Chapter?
In the next chapter, readers can anticipate the tension between Freya and Felix to escalate as the dynamics of their relationship become increasingly complex. With Sinclair now privy to the possibility that Freya’s blindness may be an elaborate ruse, the stakes are raised. Will he confront her, or will he bide his time, waiting for the perfect moment to unveil the truth? Freya’s façade is beginning to crack, and her internal struggle to maintain her charade while navigating Felix’s manipulative grasp will keep readers on the edge of their seats.
Moreover, the children’s hostility towards Freya will undoubtedly create further complications. Emmy’s innocent yet cutting remarks have already put Freya in a precarious position, and Chelsea’s growing curiosity might lead to unexpected revelations. As family tensions simmer, the question looms: will Freya find allies in this hostile environment, or will she be left to fend for herself against the mounting pressures? With Sinclair lurking in the shadows, ready to unveil secrets of his own, the chapter promises a whirlwind of emotions, revelations, and potential confrontations that will leave readers breathless and eager for more.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
