Romance and marriage had always seemed interchangeable to Freya. It was the natural order of things — one fell in love and soon after they were bound for life in marriage. Only for their happiness to be added to by each baby. She knew men were likely to have affairs, but those weren't romantic ever. They were the primal, vile needs of man, and those women who partook in affairs were an even worst sort. The man'a happiness never came to mind when Freya considered why men had affairs.

If Mr. Pettigrew was right in his opinion, then the deep unhappiness rooting itself in her marriage wasn't like to ever resolve. Freya would be doomed to tiptoe around Daniel and fret and stress constantly. Daniel was a gloomier sort than most, but she had always believed this to be what marriage was. Sacrificing bits and pieces of herself to save her husband from the pit of despair. "I would hope those who marry for love remain happy and whole." She said simply, her voice much quieter than it had been a second previous.

Freya dared not look towards Mr. Pettigrew, lest he see the confusion and heartbreaking thoughts passing through her head. Instead, she remained laser focused on the jumping bride. Someone would intervene, right? The bride wouldn't be left to break whatever bones on the bricks below. "What is she thinking?" Freya added in a shocked whisper. Just then, the bride appeared to actually jump.

Well then.