Love in the Time of Endless White

1
Four years after I left Matt, I flew back home for a reunion.
It was snowing that day, the kind of thick, wet flakes that snarl traffic into a standstill. I was late.
The moment I pushed through the door of the private room, someone called out with a laugh, Look at you two, still playing games. What's this new thing? Arriving separately to build suspense?
Every head turned, their gazes bouncing between me and him. Matt froze for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
I just smiled and found an empty seat, my movements calm.
"Alright, Joyce, you know the rules," one of our old friends chimed in, sliding a tray of shots toward me. "Latecomers owe us three."
Matt seemed to start to rise, as if to intervene, but I smoothly intercepted the glass and downed it in one clean swallow.
"I'll owe you the other two," I said, setting the empty shot glass down with a soft click. "My husband will be here to pick me up soon, and he already thinks I'm a lush."
The hand hed half-raised froze in mid-air before falling limply to his side.

A sudden, ringing silence descended on the table.
The atmosphere hung thick and awkward for a few beats before someone finally broke it. "Oh, right! Haha, no problem. A family man, we get it, we get it."
"Yeah, totally understand. Just good to see you, man."
As if by silent agreement, no one mentioned the little slip-up again, the conversation quickly steering into safer waters.
"So, Mr. Grey, you've really made it big. Don't you forget about us little guys, okay?"
"Seriously, man. You started out in pre-med, then jumped into tech and crushed it. That's insane."
The praise for him was thick in the air, a mix of awe and genuine admiration.
"Hey, I saw you in a tabloid the other day with some actress on your arm. So, you're really playing the field now, huh?"
A tight, humorless smile tugged at Matt's lips. "Don't believe everything you read. We're just business partners." As he spoke, his eyes slid sideways, landing on me.
I kept my expression neutral, reaching for a cocktail on the table. But he was faster, leaning over to pass it to me himself.
"Thanks."
His gaze was fixed on my hands as I expertly garnished the drink, a motion Id perfected over the years. His throat seemed to tighten. "Joyce... when did you learn to do all this?"
I took a sip, the cool liquid a welcome sensation. "I'm not obligated to tell you," I said, my tone light but firm.
In his memory, I was the girl whod choke and turn beet-red after a single sip of beer. He didn't know about the nights when my heart felt like it was being physically torn from my chest, when alcohol was the only anesthetic that worked. The nights Id vomit until my limbs were weak and my mind was blessedly, temporarily, blank.
But that wasn't me anymore.
Tonight, I was just happy to be with old friends.
He looked stunned for a moment, then, in a clumsy attempt to please, he started picking the cherry tomatoes out of the fruit platter. "Here," he said, offering them to me. "Your favorite."
"No, thanks. I got tired of them ages ago."
He opened his mouth to say something, but just then, Maya came over.
"Joyce, can I talk to you for a sec? In private."
She was my college roommate, my best friend. After graduation, she'd left for a three-year humanitarian mission in South America, and to make a clean break, Id cut off contact with nearly everyone, including her.
I stood, and Matt's eyes followed me all the way to the door. I didn't look back.
"Joyce, are you guys fighting?" Maya asked as soon as we were in the quiet of the hallway.
"Nope," I said with a small smile. "We're divorced."
I used to think that if anyone brought him up after four years, Id unleash a torrent of rage.
But I was fine.
My heart was a still lake. No ripples of grief, no waves of joy.
"But..." she began, choosing her words carefully. "You two were so deeply in love. You were inseparable. How could you just... end it?"
She was right. We'd been together for seven years, the couple everyone pointed to as proof that true love existed. He had been woven into the fabric of the brightest years of my life. How could I have borne to tear it all apart?
It's almost laughable now. Back then, I thought I couldn't live without him. Even after he personally destroyed the one thing I cherished most, I still chose to forgive him.
I wouldn't have let go if I hadn't been pushed to the absolute edge. I clung to the fantasy of our love until the very end.
But now?
The only thing I hoped for was to never cross paths with him again in this life.
Meeting Maya's questioning gaze, my mind drifted back, pulled into the current of a time I had tried so hard to forget.
I slowly began to tell her the story.

2
The year I was a junior in high school, Matt and his mom moved into the house across the street. His mom, Helen, was always working, pulling double shifts at the hospital, which meant he was often home alone. My parents, bless their soft hearts, couldn't stand the thought of it and started inviting him over for dinner.
From then on, whenever Helen was home, a bag of fresh vegetables or fish would mysteriously appear hanging on our doorknob. And at our dinner table, the seat to my left was always reserved for him, a set of chopsticks and a bowl waiting.
My parents, both professors, noticed his fascination with medicine and started borrowing books for him from the university library. Id never met anyone who could speak about cellular biology with such passion. His enthusiasm was infectious. I started taking my own studies more seriously, inspired by his drive.
Some afternoons, Id be in the living room practicing my dance routines, and hed be curled up by the window, lost in some dense medical textbook. Day by day, we grew closer, our lives intertwining seamlessly.
When I went to New York for a summer dance intensive, he packed a bag without a word and came with me.
"Mr. and Mrs. Davis, don't you worry," he promised my parents, his voice earnest. "I'll take perfect care of Joyce."
And he did. He even followed me to the same university.
My parents worried it would derail his own ambitions, urging him to follow his dreams. But his gaze was unwavering back then. "Westwood's medical program is excellent, too," he'd said. "And being with Joyce... that's all I want."
Once we started college, he was terrified Id skip meals. Hed wait for me outside the dance studio every morning with a thermos of hot coffee and a bagel. I just had to reach out, and something warm was always there, waiting in his hands. It didn't take long for everyone to know him as my devoted boyfriend. They'd tell me how lucky I was.
On days without classes, we'd walk across the campus green, his hand holding mine so tightly, his palm warm, the tips of his ears flushed red.
I truly believed our life would just continue on like that, a sweet, simple melody.
But life has a way of composing sharp, sudden discords.
Helen, worn down by years of relentless work, was diagnosed with acute leukemia.
The doctors said the first round of treatment alone would be nearly half a million dollars. Without a bone marrow match, it would be a bottomless pit of expenses.
That night, I found him sitting on a curb, utterly lost, like his soul had been hollowed out.
When my parents found out, they scraped together everything they hadthree hundred thousand dollarsand transferred it to him that same night.
"Matt, her health is what's important," my dad said. "Let us worry about the money."
When he saw the transfer notification, his hands trembled. He dropped to his knees right there in front of my parents, his voice choked with sobs. "This kindness... I'll spend my entire life repaying it."
Not long after, he started walking me from class, and one day, there was a girl with a cherubic face trailing behind him.
"Joyce, this is Lila. She twisted her ankle, so I was just helping her out."
She was sweet and bubbly, calling me "Joyce" with an easy familiarity. After that, Lila started seeking me out, asking for advice on her dance technique. I learned she was a freshman, two years behind me.
Matt told me her life was tough, that her family demanded perfection in everything she did. Ive always had a soft spot for younger students, so I shared my experience and tips freely.
One day, she asked me out of the blue, "Joyce, do you think two people from totally different worlds, you know, financially, should even try to be together?"
I didn't think much of it. "Love can conquer anything," I replied vaguely.
She sent back a cute emoji of a bunny nodding enthusiastically.
After that, whenever she saw me, she'd greet me warmly and recommend all these amazing restaurants for couples. I was so busy preparing for the state regionals that I never questioned it.
I didn't know that Matt had accepted her feelings for him long before.
And all those restaurant recommendations? They were the places he had already taken her.
The day before the competition, he gave me a gifta pair of exquisitely crafted ballet slippers. A good luck charm.
I trusted him completely.
The moment I leaped into my first move, a rusted nail hidden inside the toe of the shoe pierced straight through my left foot.
Blood bloomed across the satin. I lost my balance and fell, hard.
And in that split second, as I lay crumpled on the stage, I looked out into the audience. I saw Matt, standing there silently.
His fingers were laced with hers.
Mayas fists clenched, and she let out a sound of pure disgust. "We were there, in the audience. We all thought it was just a terrible accident."
"So it was all a setup by those two monsters!" She took my hand, her touch gentle, and sighed. "But Joyce... you knew. You knew he cheated on you, that he ruined your entire dance career."
"So why did you still marry him?"
"Because," I murmured, my lips barely moving, "his mother was dying."

3
When they wheeled me out of surgery, Matt was sitting in the waiting area, rubbing his temples. I stared at the thick bandages swathing my foot, the doctor's words echoing in my head. The nail wasn't long, but it severed a nerve. You'll likely never have full sensation in that spot again.
I would never be able to dance on a stage again.
Biting back tears, I looked at him and asked him why.
Why was he with her? Why did he make that decision for me, stealing my chance to shine, without so much as a word?
His expression was flat, detached. "I had no choice. Lila's father was watching this competition very closely. If she didn't place, he'd be furious with her."
"You're her senior," he continued, as if explaining something perfectly logical. "And you're my girlfriend. It was only right that you help her."
"Dancing is just a hobby for you, Joyce. But it's different for Lila. She carries the honor of the Vance family. She couldn't afford to fail."
The way he said her name, "Lila," over and over, sent a shard of ice through my heart.
An eternity seemed to pass before I could force the words from my throat. "You're both disgusting."
He was pouring a glass of water. He stopped, then deliberately, he flung the contents in my face. Cold water soaked the front of my shirt. I didn't move.
It was the first time he had ever shown me anger. And it was because I had insulted Lila.
He never came back to the hospital after that.
But the day before I was discharged, he appeared out of nowhere.
"Joyce, I promised my mom I'd marry you after graduation."
"She's not doing well. Let's just... let's get the license now. To give her one last wish."
He saw the hesitation in my eyes and, right then and there, deleted every trace of Lila from his phone. He swore to me it would never happen again.
My resolve crumbled. I said yes.
Deep down, I just couldn't bear to let go of our seven years.
After we were married, he switched careers to tech. It didn't take long for him to find incredible success, but with every promotion, he grew more distant. He was always working late, always entertaining clients. He was rarely home.
I took a quiet admin job at a large corporation, trying my best to leave the shadows of the past behind me. Sometimes, I'd see a dancer on TV, a flash of graceful movement, and the old ache would return, a dull throb in my chest.
But then, a small miracle.
I discovered something new to look forward to.
On Matt's birthday, I took the day off work, planning to surprise him. When I got to our apartment, the door was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open and saw something I could never unsee.
A woman was draped over him on the sofa, her soft moans filling the silent apartment.
The voice belonged to Lila.
A primal rage took over. I stormed in and slapped her across the face, the sound cracking through the air.
The next second, a foot connected with my stomach, and Matt sent me flying. I stumbled backward, the sharp corner of the coffee table digging into my spine. A violent cramp seized my lower abdomen.
A warm wetness spread between my legs. I saw the blood. Trembling, I reached a hand out to him.
"Matt... the hospital. Get me to a hospital..."
He stood over me, his eyes as cold and remote as they were that day in the hospital.
"Why would you hit me, Joyce?" Lila sobbed, clutching his arm, her face buried in his sleeve. "Is it a crime to love someone?"
"We were trying so hard to stay away from you," she whimpered. "But you just had to come home at this exact moment."
He gently cupped her face, his voice a soft murmur as he examined the red mark on her cheek. "I'm here. She can't hurt you. Don't be scared."
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, but the tears came anyway, hot and unstoppable.
So they'd been seeing each other this whole time.
And I, like an idiot, had been guarding the shattered remains of our relationship.
My hand shook as I reached for my phone on the floor.
He kicked it away.
"You deserve this, Joyce."
I shook my head, my voice breaking. "Please... give it back."
"Matt, I'm pregnant. The baby... our baby..."

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