Fiction Made Me His Wife (Freya and Louis) novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165 Trending Overnight

Chapter 165 Trending Overnight

Freya opened Twitter–sure enough, “#RealitySplitVRMMO” was trending at the top.

What struck her as odd was the complete absence of any mention of Louis.

That didn’t make sense. How could journalists resist digging into the mastermind behind a breakthrough like this?

“Who’s the billionaire funding this?“–that alone would’ve gone viral.

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Yet no matter how hard I searched, Louis’s name yielded nothing new. The top results were still old headlines: Graham Group’s Patriarch Declares Bankruptcy, The Fall of a Tycoon, followed by stale business interviews and, if I scrolled far enough, tabloid scraps about his marriage to this body’s original owner.

Guess Louis is keeping his involvement under wraps.

Freya closed the tab and logged into her game.

Ever since the lab visit, my mind had been churning.

By nature, I’m upbeat and curious–quiet on the surface but secretly a goofball.

After transmigrating, I’d tiptoed around, shackled by the novel’s plot. But really, what did Louis’s affairs have to do with me? He didn’t need my gratitude. I’d inflated my own importance. Even as a cannon- fodder character, my role in his story was over.

My stiffness around him had stemmed from his intimidating charm, but so what? He isn’t mine. Now that Louis is staging a comeback, our marriage’s expiration date looms.

From here on, I’d focus on myself. If Louis needs help, I’ll give it. If not, no more overthinking. Being friends will be nice–if not, no loss. The rest is up to him.

The clarity was liberating. Freya promptly signed up for RealitySplit’s beta lottery, then returned to her manuscript with renewed vigor.

That evening, Louis knew something was off the moment he stepped in. Freya sat cross- legged on a cushion, typing furiously while humming to music, snacks and soc desk.

tering the

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Chapter 165 Trending Overnight

Normally, she’d scramble to hide the evidence of her “unladylike” habits. Tonight, she just glanced over and said, “You’re back. Eat yet? I can whip something up if not.

The music played on. The snacks stayed put. Her hair was piled into a messy bun, strands escaping as she eyed him calmly, fingers still on the keyboard.

“I ate. You skipped dinner?” Louis ventured.

“Nope, I had takeout,” she said, nodding at the empty container–no apologies, no excuses.

“Snacks are unhealthy. Most takeout’s unsanitary,” he pointed out.

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