The other woman

The moment they entered, she felt like an outsider, a spectator to a scene she was never meant to witness. Her stomach twisted, and an unwelcome sting pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Did they even notice she was there, she wondered.

She was still lost in her thoughts when a small boy with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes bounded into the room.

"Who are you?" He asked boldly, walking straight up to Sigrid without hesitation.

She blinked, caught off guard and unable to muster a single word.

"Olav!" Bjørn exclaimed. "This is Sigrid."

The boy's sharp gaze assessed her from head to toe before he turned and climbed into Bjørn's arms with ease.

It was painfully clear to her then-she did not belong here. The realization stung her deeply, and she rose abruptly, muttering an excuse before departing the chamber, her head bowed low, like a hound with its tail between its legs.

Outside, the cold air bit at her cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest. Her stomach churned with unease as unshed tears brimmed in her eyes. She couldn't forget the look on Bjørn's face when they arrived. The moment had been brief, but it told her everything.

That evening, she excused herself early, retreating to her quarters without a word to the others.

Later, as the room darkened and she lay restless in bed, Thora slipped in beside her, whispering softly.
"Where did you disappear to?"

"I felt like I was in the way," Sigrid admitted, her voice tight.

"Because of Kari and Olav?" Thora asked incredulously. "Nonsense. It's obvious Bjørn only feels responsibility for the boy."

"You didn't see him, Thora," Sigrid replied, her voice cracking. "The way he looked at her... at Kari."

"No, I didn't notice. But I wouldn't be surprised if Kristin orchestrated this.

Sigrid couldn't hold back any longer. Her voice broke as she cried, "I think he loves her, Thora. Should I leave? He has... a child with her, after all. Even though it isn't really his."

"No!" Thora said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "We are not leaving because of this. You need to talk to him. Ask him to be honest with you. Bjørn would never mislead you like that."

Sigrid wiped at her tears, nodding hesitantly. "You're right, Thora."

The next day, Sigrid couldn't help but notice how Kari seemed to thrive in the household. She moved seamlessly through the kitchen, cooking exquisite meals, while assisting Kristin with ease.

Together, they were an unstoppable force-a vision of domestic harmony. It was painfully clear that Kari would make the perfect housewife.

Sigrid, on the other hand, spent her time tending to Balder and helping care for the animals. She avoided the others as much as possible, throwing herself into her tasks.

"Kari," Kristin called out abruptly as Sigrid was tending to Bjørn's bandages. "Why don't you take over and help Bjørn with his wounds? I think Sigrid could use a break."

Sigrid froze at the barely veiled jab, her hands tightening as anger threatened to boil over.

"I'd be happy to," Kari replied instantly, her eagerness apparent.

Before Sigrid could respond, Bjørn's voice cut through the room, calm yet resolute.
"No," he said firmly. "Sigrid has done a remarkable job."

His hand reached out, gently closing around hers, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. "She has a very skilled touch," he remarked, a faint smile curving his lips.

Sigrid's heart skipped a beat.
Bjørn leaned back slightly, his voice calm but commanding. "Now, I think I need to rest."

Kristin stiffened, her jaw tightening, while Kari's disappointment flashed across her face. Reluctantly, the others left the room, leaving Sigrid to tidy up.

As she gathered the last of her supplies and turned to leave, Bjørn caught her wrist gently, halting her.

"Not so fast," he murmured. "Stay." He had an authority in his voice that almost made her tremble. The playful glint in his eyes was still there.

He guided her closer to the bed, his movements careful yet firm. She noticed how much stronger he had grown in the past days.

"I miss when you used to sneak in," he said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

Sigrid's gaze darted to the open door. "It's not so easy now," she replied.

"I didn't know my mother had invited them," he said.

"It was thoughtful of her," Sigrid replied quickly, though her voice faltered. "It's good for you to see them."

"Olav remind me of my brother," Bjørn said after a moment.

Sigrid hesitated before whispering, "If you want me to leave, I will. I don't want to... complicate things."

"No, Sigrid!" He insisted. "I don't want you to leave."

"Are you sure?" She asked quietly.

"Yes," he said with conviction. "If you go, I go with you. We've been apart long enough."

He pulled her closer until their foreheads touched, his breath mingling with hers.
"I don't ever want to be apart from you again," he said softly.

Sigrid closed her eyes, her voice barely audible as she replied, "Nor I from you."

But that didn't mean she was free of doubt. Every single moment spent with the three of them felt harder. She felt like the one who didn't belong there.

When Olaf lay in bed with Bjørn , and Kari satt beside them she gazed at them with a look of devotion, she couldn't help but feel like it was her who was the other woman.

Kari, who seemed to fit perfectly with Bjørn. Kari wasn't rude or particularly friendly, but it was as if she considered Sigrid to be air. Sigrid felt more and more like an outsider with each passing day

She had just left Bjørn in the room when she felt the biting cold as Kristin entered behind her in the kitchen to fetch water for him.

"Don't you have any shame?" Kristin said boldly.

Sigrid stammered. "I... I was invited here by Bjørn."

"You're ruining a family," Kristin shot back.

"Bjørn says it's not like that," Sigrid tried to explain, but she wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Kristin or herself.

Kristin grew angry, and her eyes darkened. "Bjørn was going to marry her. Until he went to Erik," she said, taking a pause to scrutinize Sigrid.

"You're just like Erling's sister-you trick the men with witchcraft," she exclaimed, as if a heavy burden had been released. The deep lines on her face were etched like a map of her long and bitter experiences.

"Witchcraft?" Sigrid asked, confused, as her anger began to simmer. She was shaken by the comment.

"You're a witch," Kristin declared now, calmer, almost whispering. "That's the only explanation for how you get them wrapped around your finger - Bjørn, Ivar, Erling, even Erik."

"No, that's enough!" Sigrid suddenly heard herself say, furious. "That's enough!" She stomped out of the kitchen in a fit of rage. She wouldn't be a part of this.

She practically threw the water into Bjørn's arms.

"What's wrong?" He asked, startled.

"Nothing. I just need to get some air," she said, though her tone betrayed her words.

She quickly threw on her coat, and Balder came running to her feet, his tail wagging eagerly. The air had grown milder, and the snow was heavy and wet. She scooped up a handful and threw a snowball toward the beach, watching as the dog enthusiastically chased after it.

For a while, she paced back and forth, her steps quick and agitated. Was she more upset that she had let Kristin see how much her words had affected her, or that Kristin might actually be right about Bjørn and Kari?

She was relieved Bjørn couldn't follow her. For a fleeting moment, her anger burned so hot that she considered leaving right then and there-no goodbyes, no explanations.

Perhaps even abandoning Thora, knowing she would only try to convince her to stay.

But before she could act on that thought, she heard footsteps crunching in the snow behind her. She didn't have time to turn around before she was startled by a familiar voice.

"Sigrid."

She spun toward the voice, just in time to see Bjørn stumble and collapse into the snow.

"Bjørn!" She exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"You were obviously upset," he said, his voice tinged with concern.

"But you came out here! Alone! In this cold!" She looked around, as if trying to convince herself this was really happening. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied, brushing some snow off his clothes and letting out a short laugh.

Sigrid hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside him, her earlier anger giving way to something calmer. She turned to him, her expression softer now, but her thoughts still racing.

"You should have told me you intended to wed Kari," she said, meeting his gaze with piercing intensity.

He shifted uncomfortably, though not from pain-she could see he didn't know what to do with himself.

"I am ashamed," he admitted, his eyes falling away from hers. "Yes, I should have told you." He drew a deep breath.

"After my brother passed," he began, "Kari and I... for a brief moment, we found solace in each other's grief. And one night, what should not have happened... happened."

"You lay with her?" She asked, her voice trembling with emotion. Even as she spoke, she was unsure whether she wanted the answer. The image of him and Kari together clawed at her mind, driving her mad.

"Yes," he said quietly, his sorrow almost unbearable. "And afterward, I was so consumed by guilt that I gave her the impression I might wed her. You cannot know how deeply it has weighed upon me."

Bjørn hesitated, his breath visible in the cold air as he searched for the words that might not fail him. His fingers brushed a lock of her hair away from her face with a tenderness that sent a shiver down Sigrid's spine.

"Sigrid," he began, his voice low, strained with the weight of unspoken emotion. "When I met you, my world, which had been forged in duty and grief, found light again. You were that light. And now, the thought of you leaving..."

His words faltered, his gaze dropping to the snow as though he could not bear to meet her eyes.

"I would go with you," he said at last, his voice rough but resolute. "Even if it meant abandoning everything I know. My home, my kin-none of it matters without you."

Sigrid's breath hitched, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her doubts like a blade. Yet Kari's shadow loomed between them, a specter of uncertainty that would not relent.

"But Kari," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Your mother... they see me as a trespasser."

Bjørn's head snapped up, his eyes fierce with determination, his expression almost defiant. "They do not decide where my heart lies, Sigrid. That choice is mine alone, and I made it the moment I met you."

He moved closer, his presence steadying her, though her thoughts raced wildly. Taking her hands in his, he held them as though they were the only thing anchoring him in the storm.

"I vowed to do right by you, and I will," he continued, his voice softening but no less firm. "But I cannot wait another day to ask you..."

He paused, drawing a steadying breath. "Will you-will you stand by my side, not just now, but for all the days to come? Will you be my wife?"

The question hung between them, a fragile yet unyielding thread of hope. Sigrid felt her heart hammering in her chest, her voice caught somewhere in her throat.

And as the weight of his words settled upon her, the only thought that consumed her mind was simple yet overwhelming: Was she good enough for him?

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