Part Two

Malik led Freya, Kat and Lauren upstairs to the first floor and then to the staircase up to the attic where his new room was supposed to be. The room was already piled in boxes of items the Levesque family had gathered over the years and had already filled with the bed and wardrobe that Malik and Dexter had built earlier and the group immediately got to work.

"Damn, Freya. Your family keeps everything," Kat commented as she looked through a cardboard box.

"Tell me about it," Freya sighed as she leaned against an old desk, looking on as Malik, Kat and Lauren packed and moved boxes around. "I've been telling my Dad to get rid of this stuff for years."

"What even is all this?" Lauren wondered as she peered into a box.

"Proof my parents can't let go of anything," Freya said as she glanced at her nails. "Dad buys properties like it's a hobby. Mum curates everything." Freya looked said as she got up and looked at her reflection in one of the mirrors. "We lived in six houses before I was twelve. Knightsbridge, Mayfair, even a ridiculous penthouse in Canary Wharf for three months. This stuff is everything they couldn't fit into the places the family lives in now like Dad's penthouse apartment, Mom's apartment in Paris or the holiday house in Spain."

"Six houses? That's crazy." Kat told him. "So all this...?"

"Storage limbo. Stuff they want to keep but got nowhere to put them. This house used to be my grandparents before they passed so Dad doesn't want to get rid of it." Freya shrugged, pulling out a faded silk scarf out of a box.

"This is actually pretty cool," Lauren commented as she looked through some old vinyls. "My parents would kill for some of these. They've got a whole wall of vinyl back in Blackpool."

“I bet Dexter would like some of these, unless you or Freya want to keep them.” Kat suggested as she joined Lauren in flicking through the vinyls.

“Ugh, no thanks.” Freya rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, it doesn't seem like the music you're into, Freya." Kat said as she went to another box. "Though… This might suit you, Freya. Very… vintage drama queen." Kat commented as she unfolded an old fur coat.

"Shut up, Khan! I wouldn't be caught dead in that,” Freya said as she threw a pillow at the girl. “I think that was my grandma's."

"This collection is amazing," Lauren commented as Malik joined her in flicking through the vinyls. "Some of these are classics." Lauren glanced up at Malik. "Your dad ever collected anything like this?"

"Nah. Our Dad, he's practical. Maybe kept a photo album or two. Stuff that fits in one drawer." Malik paused looking at Kat. "He was always a car man though"

“Cars? Like, restoring them?" Lauren asked curiously.

"Obsessed more like," Kat chimed in. "Spent more time at his garage than with his kids."

"Hey," Malik protested. "Dad built his business from scratch. Kept us fed and a roof over our heads even if we didn't agree with his rules." Malik before telling his girlfriend. "And yeah, he restored classics. Jaguars mostly.”

“That's cool.’ Lauren smiled as Freya shifted through a jewellery box, picking up a silver locket. “What have you got there, Freya?” Lauren wondered as the blonde opened the locket, only for the trio to notice tears starting to fall from her eyes.

“I need air," Freya muttered as she pushed past the others, taking the locket with her as she headed out of the room.

"Freya?" Malik called out but she didn't stop and he looked over at Lauren who gave him a questioning look before telling him.

"Go," Lauren said softly and Malik didn’t hesitate, scrambling after her.

Malik made his way downstairs, not finding Freya in her room on the first floor nor anywhere downstairs, it was as he opened the front door slightly only to hear the sound of an unfamiliar voice as he approached Freya who was sitting on the stairs.

"Hey, Freya." Malik heard the man say.

"What are you doing here, Travis?" Freya mumbled.

“Just passing by,” Travis responded. “Rough day?” He asked as he sat down next to her.

"Found some things. A locket. Of Mom." Freya swallowed hard. "She looked so... happy. Young. Before. Me."

"Ah. The legendary Marguerite Levesque." Travis recalled. "Still jet-setting between galleries?"

"Yeah, Paris this week. Or was it Milan?" Freya said as she pulled her knees up, hugging them tight. "Who knows with her?"

"You miss her," Travis stated.

"Stupid, right? She's never been around. Always the next exhibit, the next acquisition." Freya said, her voice cracking. "Never me."

"Not stupid," Travis murmured. "Just... how it is. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt." Travis paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"In person. Christmas. Briefly. She flew in late Christmas Eve, and left on Boxing Day morning." Freya wiped her tears. "She brought me a ridiculous limited-edition handbag. Like that fixes anything." Freya paused. "Our last phone call was six months ago. She was at an opening in Berlin. I could hear champagne flutes clinking in the background. Sometimes I think she forgets she has a daughter."

"She’s missing out, Freya," Travis said, his voice low and firm. "On you. That’s her loss, not yours." Travis nudged her shoulder gently with his own, bringing a smile to Freya's face. "You're amazing. Always were."

Meanwhile, Malik who had been eavesdropping on the pair, starting to feel guilty about listening in on an intimate moment between two people who are so close and had history, he silently took a step back, closing the door and headed back to his girlfriend and sister.