Frost and Snow in the Arms

1
Three years after I broke up with Ethan, I returned to Riverton only to become the town's laughingstock.
They all said I was a fool who couldn't see the diamond right in front of me, who willingly threw away the prize of a lifetime.
Some even whispered that I was back to win Ethan over, hoping to use him to pull the Vance family back from the brink of ruin.
The rumors swirled, growing more vicious by the day, but I paid them no mind.
Then, I ran into Ethans protg, Zoe, at a restaurantthe same woman who had wedged herself between us three years ago.
As Zoes taunts washed over me, my gaze drifted past her to Ethan, who stood silently by the entrance. I decided then and there to shatter his cool composure.
"Ethan," I said, my voice clear and steady, "when have you ever known me to turn back?"
My words hung in the air, plunging the bustling restaurant into a sudden, dead silence.
The other patrons, who had been eagerly watching the drama unfold, now held their breath, their eyes fixed on Ethans darkening expression. No one dared to make a sound.
Zoe turned, and upon seeing Ethan, she flitted to his side like a hummingbird drawn to a flower.
"Good that you know your place," she chirped, her voice dripping with scorn. "You're not nearly good enough for him now."
She spoke with the unshakeable confidence of someone who had always been cherished by him, each word a carefully crafted jab meant to belittle me.
Ethans eyes flickered at her words. His dark, intense gaze was like a vortex, threatening to pull me in and swallow me whole.
He said nothing, simply allowing Zoe to continue her thinly veiled insults.
It was a scene chillingly familiar, a perfect echo of the past three years. Ever since Zoe entered our lives, it had always been the two of them, standing together, against me.
"Eleanor."
My best friend, Claire, returned to my side, her presence a solid anchor. She glanced at Zoe, who was now clinging possessively to Ethan's arm.
"Well, well," Claire scoffed. "Look at them. The bastard and the bitch, finally a pair."
Her words sliced through the tense air, and the atmosphere crackled with hostility.
"You" Zoes cheeks flushed with rage. "Ethan, did you hear what she just" she whined, tugging at his sleeve.
Claire leaned in, whispering in my ear, "Disgusting."
I couldnt help it; a small laugh escaped my lips.
Ethan's gaze snapped to me, his eyes narrowing. "Eleanor, control your friend."
His cold, commanding tone was a blade that sent me hurtling back three years into the past. Seeing him today had resurrected all the ghosts I thought Id left behind.
I took Claire's hand and stepped slightly in front of her, facing him directly.
"Ethan, you control your woman," I retorted, my voice as sharp as his. "Don't let her out in public if all she's going to do is bite."
Then, I turned my head, my eyes locking with Zoes.
"The bone you're fighting so desperately for is one Ive already thrown away," I said, my voice low and cutting. "Where I stand, he's the one who isn't good enough for me."
With that, I took Claires hand and walked toward the door. As I passed Ethan, I saw the tight, white-knuckled fist clenched at his side.
It turns out, words that cut deep are surprisingly simple to say.
But I wasn't just trying to hurt him. It was the truth.
From the moment he started taking Zoes side, again and again, he had ceased to be worthy of me in my heart.
The man I love can be poor, he can be unsuccessful. But he must, without question, be in my corner, always. He cannot stand with another woman, using cold logic to tell me I'm wrong.
2
"Damn, Eleanor! It's like you went away and got a Ph.D. in clapbacks."
Claire was still buzzing with excitement on the drive home. After all, three years ago, Zoes taunts would often leave me speechless and fuming. This time, I was the one who left them both pale with rage.
I offered a small smile, feeling myself retreat into the quiet, reserved person I used to be.
Claire reached over and gently pinched my cheek. "There she is. My sweet little lamb."
Honestly, everything Id said back there was fueled by a surge of protective anger. I didn't care what they said about me, but Claire had stood up for me. I couldn't let them tear her down.
I didn't need to explain that to her, though.
"I guess being cooped up in the hospital for so long left me with a lot of pent-up frustration," I said quietly. "It all just came out."
Hearing this, Claire waited for a red light, then reached over and patted my head gently.
"Congratulations," she said, her voice soft. "You finally made it back from the gates of hell."
Her words struck a chord deep inside me, and suddenly, I felt an overwhelming urge to cry.
In this entire world, Claire was the only one who knew I had been sick.
But three years ago, the moment the doctor handed me that diagnosis, the only person I wanted to find was Ethan.
I searched for him all day. I called. I texted. I contacted his friends, his colleagues. No one knew where he was. They only knew he'd driven off somewhere with Zoe. He was unreachable.
Only Claire, sensing the panic in my voice over the phone, had rushed to my side. She was the one who took me back to the hospital, who spoke with the doctors, who found out about a specialized research program overseas.
By the time night fell, we were both emotionally and physically drained.
And that's when Ethan finally showed up.
He saw the two of us, his expression unreadable. "Eleanor, you were looking for me? My phone died today."
Claire, incensed, lunged forward to confront him, but I held her back.
"Claire, I need to talk to him alone."
Though she was still furious, she respected my wish and left.
The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. Ethan stood before me. After a long moment, he came and sat beside me on the couch. The cushion sank under his weight as he pulled me into his arms.
"There was an issue with some experimental data at the company today," he began, his voice a low murmur against my hair. "It was Zoe's section, so I went back to the lab with her to sort it out. My phone was off, I didn't see your messages. Eleanor, don't be angry. I'll be more careful from now on."
His words were a dam breaking inside me, and tears flooded my eyes. I fought them back, refusing to let them fall.
The scent clinging to him had changed. It was no longer his familiar cologne, but something else laced with a cloyingly sweet fragrance, the kind a younger girl would wear. It was faint, but it made my stomach churn.
But I couldn't bear to let go. Not yet.
So I said, "Ethan, Zoe has feelings for you. Can you please fire her?"
He pulled away, his hands falling from my shoulders. He studied my face, and when his gaze met my tear-filled eyes, I saw his fingertips tremble.
A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke, his voice frustratingly rational.
"If I fire her, she might not be able to graduate. Besides, what you're saying it's just your assumption. Eleanor, I can't ruin her life based on a suspicion."
He kept talking, his logical explanations filling the air, but all I could hear was a dull roar as my world turned to gray.
"Fine," I said, my voice heavy with exhaustion, cutting through his monologue. "Then let's break up."
My words stopped him cold.
He left in a storm of anger, slamming the door behind him. But just before he disappeared, he shot back a furious question.
"Eleanor, what's wrong with you? When did you become like this?"
He stormed out so quickly, he never heard my whispered reply.
"Ethan, I'm sick."
A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I curled into a ball on the couch, my body trembling as silent tears finally soaked into the pillow.
In this world, nothing is less reliable than the human heart. So I refused to gamble on it, refused to bet on his loyalty. I just wanted a definitive answer.
And really, all I wanted was to get rid of the woman circling my partner before I left the country for treatment.
What was so wrong with that?
3
I never contacted Ethan again after that day.
I moved out of the villa we shared, leaving behind every gift he had ever given me. I took only what was mine.
The day before I was due to fly out, Claire asked me, "Are you really not going to tell him?"
My hands, busy packing, paused for a moment. I shook my head. "There's no point."
After she left, I sat motionless for a long time. My fingers, acting of their own accord, found my phone and opened my chat with Ethan.
The screen was filled with the messages I had sent that day:
[Ethan, where are you?]
[Ethan, why aren't you picking up?]
[Ethan]
Countless messages, all met with a single, hollow explanation.
And that final, damning question:
"When did you become like this?"
The memory was a physical blow, and I doubled over, clutching my chest.
Just then, my phone rang.
It was Ethan.
"Eleanor"
Before he could say more, Zoes voice cut through from his end. "Ethan, you've had way too much to drink."
The words I had been about to say died in my throat. I just listened, silent, to the rustle of fabric and Zoe's concerned murmurs as she fussed over him.
The call ended.
I stared at the chat screen. At the top, the "typing..." bubble appeared, then vanished. Appeared, then vanished again.
Finally, it disappeared for good, leaving nothing behind.
In the dead of night, in those few short hours, I replayed the entire fifteen years of our history together.
From my parents' funeral, where he stood by my side greeting mourners, to his parents' funeral, where I stood by his. In the eyes of everyone who knew us, we were already life partners, inseparable.
But everything changed the moment he started arguing with me over Zoe.
I had told him more than once that she was in love with him. He always dismissed it as my imagination, my paranoia. Perhaps she was just that good at hiding it in front of him.
But I had seen it. I had seen the look in her eyes when she thought he wasn't watching.
It was a look of intense, burning adoration.
[Ethan, I'm leaving the country.]
[Don't call me anymore.]
[We're over.]
After sending the messages, I blocked him everywhere. On every platform. It was decisive, absolute, leaving no room for doubt.
I was afraid. Afraid that if I left even the smallest crack open, my weak heart would betray me, and I would find myself unable to let him go.
I knew, with absolute clarity, that I still loved him.
But I was so, so tired.
Tired of the endless fights over Zoe. Tired of watching him stand on her side, criticizing me, refuting my feelings.
He said I had changed. But what woman could tolerate a rival hovering around the man she loved?
When I needed him most, he was with her.
When I found out from his own company that he had left with Zoe that day, I thought I was going to lose my mind. If Claire hadn't been there to catch me, I would have collapsed right then and there.
The memories replayed all the way home, a past that needed to be left behind.
When I arrived, Claire asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you for your check-up tomorrow?"
I shook my head. "It's just to get my file set up. Nothing major. If there's a real problem, I'll have to go back overseas for treatment anyway."
I knew she had just taken on a huge new project and was incredibly busy. She was my best friend, but she had her own life to live.
Claire sighed. "Okay. But you have to promise to call me if anything happens."
After she left, I stood by the door for a long time.
Suddenly, I didn't feel so alone in the world anymore.
I might have lost love, but I still had my friendship.
4
On the drive to the hospital, my mind drifted back to my time abroad.
During that last year, I lived completely on my own.
My parents had died in a car crash, and for the longest time, I thought Id never get behind the wheel again. But after missing the bus a few too many times, I had no choice. If I wanted to get to the research institute for my treatments, I had to drive.
The first time I got in the car, my entire body trembled. I crawled along the whole way at less than 25 miles per hour.
But slowly, I got used to it.
The old Eleanor Vance, the one who depended on others for everything, had, step by painful step, learned to stand on her own.
Now, here I was, sitting alone in a hospital corridor, clutching my latest report.
The doctor said I was recovering well, but Id need a check-up every six months to watch for any recurrence.
In that moment, it finally hit me, with breathtaking clarity: I had stared death in the face, and I had won.
That year of lonely hospital rooms. The three times I was wheeled out of surgery. The moments I felt myself slipping away.
I survived.
I wanted to smile, but tears came first.
At the beginning, I had wanted to give up. Death had seemed like a release, a welcome escape.
But now I knew. I wanted to live.
Tears splashed onto the report, blurring the ink. In this hallway, my weeping wasn't out of place. It was a space that held the desperate pleas of the dying and the euphoric relief of the reborn.
I dont know how long I sat there, but eventually, a handkerchief was offered to me.
Embroidered on the corner was a familiar spray of freesia.
I looked up, my vision still hazy with tears.
"Eleanor."
Ethans face was a mask of calm, but the hand holding the handkerchief trembled for a fraction of a second.
I didnt take it. I used the crumpled tissue in my own hand to wipe my cheeks.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stood up and walked past him, our shoulders brushing.
"Eleanor," he called out behind me.
I was walking too fast, and his next words were lost to the sterile echo of the hallway.
I had more important things to do than get tangled up with Ethan, to listen to whatever words of pity or regret he had to offer.
Outside the hospital, I texted Claire the good news. She must have been busy, as she didn't reply right away.
Then, I drove to North Ridge Cemetery.
At the foot of the hill, I bought two bouquets of flowers. One for my parents, and the other for his. After my parents passed, they had treated me like their own daughter. Whatever had happened between Ethan and me, I would always be grateful for their kindness.
After placing the flowers on their grave, I went to my parents'.
"Mom, Dad," I whispered, wiping a fresh tear from my eye as I looked at their loving faces in the photograph. "I'm going to live for a very, very long time. That's good news, right?"
I leaned against the cool stone of the steps, imagining it was their embrace.
I stayed there for a long time, until Claire finally came to find me and take me home.
Before she left, I gave her a tight hug. "Claire, thank you. For always being there for me."
She pushed me away gently, her expression serious. "Don't get all sappy on me."
I smiled, not pointing out the tell-tale shimmer in her eyes. I knew she was just as happy for me as I was.
When I got upstairs, I saw him again. Ethan was waiting outside my apartment door.
The truth was, Ethan and I were never the kind of people who could be severed by one person's decision. We had known each other since childhood; our families were best friends. He knew about the properties in my name, and I knew where he lived.
That's why that first year abroad had been so excruciating. He knew exactly where I was, but he never came for me.
Seeing me, Ethans head snapped up. The composed, indifferent fa?ade he had worn earlier shattered completely.
His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands trembling as he reached for me, yet he didn't dare touch me.
The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered on, then off again.
In the faint moonlight filtering through the window, I heard his voice, ragged and raw.
"Eleanor it must have been so hard, wasn't it?"
5
His words stirred nothing in me.
The moment I moved past him, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
"Eleanor."
His fingers pressed down hard on the silver bracelet I wore, digging it painfully into my skin.
I looked up at him, my voice cold. "Let go, Ethan."
The raw pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn't release me.
"Ethan"
Suddenly, his other hand came up and covered my eyes. The world went black. I blinked in discomfort as his palm tightened slightly against my face.
His voice was a desperate plea in my ear. "Eleanor, please don't look at me like that."
His words were so absurd, I almost laughed.
Before I could struggle, the pressure on my wrist vanished. He let me go, but only for a second. The next moment, I was pulled into his arms, trapped in an embrace I couldn't break.
"Eleanor, Eleanor, just for a moment," he begged, his voice muffled against my shoulder. "Just one moment."
He buried his face in my shoulder, his words choked with sobs.
"I'm such a bastard."
"Eleanor, I'm so sorry."
"You were sick and I never even knew."
"You must have been so scared that day."
His voice was hoarse, each word a tear-soaked confession.
But it was all too late.
Too late. The wounds had already scarred over.
"Eleanor, I should have come for you."
That sentence sent a wave of profound sorrow through me. I waited for him for a whole year. For one entire year, I believed he would come.
What I got instead were press photos from a new product launch, featuring Ethan with Zoe smiling by his side. Ethan had used his own company's project as a launchpad to the heavens for her.
In that single instant, my world had completely shattered.
The ache where the bracelet had dug into my wrist was still there. Underneath it was an ugly scar.
It was because of that scar that I had finally, truly, let him go.
I had died once already, and I cherished the life I had now more than anything.
Ethan's whispered regrets continued, a litany of remorse breathed against my ear, like the most devout sinner confessing to his god.
My patience wore thin. "Ethan, let me go," I interrupted, my tone flat and hard.
Perhaps it was the coldness in my voice that finally got through to him. He stiffened, then slowly, reluctantly, released me.
When I met his gaze, I saw the unshed tears glistening in his red-rimmed eyes. My heart gave a painful lurch. The agony he felt for me in this moment was real.
But the agony I felt three years ago was just as real.
Remembering everything, a bitter smile touched my lips. I reached up and gently wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
"It's too late, Ethan."
My eyes held his, unwavering. "Your apologies, your regrets I don't need them anymore."
6
"Can you believe it? Ethan actually fired Zoe."
Claire dropped the bombshell during our video call, and I could practically feel her shock through the screen.
"He actually let her go? Willingly?" I was just as surprised.
"Yep. And the official reason was brutal. Shes going to have a hell of a time finding another job in this industry."
Claire paused, then asked tentatively, "Eleanor"
"Stop. Just stop. Whatever you're thinking, shut it down." After a decade of friendship, I knew exactly where her mind was going. She was worried Id fall for him again.
She gave a sheepish laugh, backing down.
"Claire, I told you that day I would never turn back," I said, my voice firm. "I meant it."
Maybe, right after we broke up, I had my moments of regret. If Ethan had fired Zoe back then and come to me, I probably would have taken him back without a second thought.
But that time passed. And my heart had long since grown cold. No miracle cure could ever bring it back to life.
After we hung up, I curled into a ball on the couch. It was a habit Id picked up during that first year abroad. Back then, I was convinced Ethan would come for me. I wanted to wait for him before having the surgery. I felt like I could only be safe if he was with me.
The pain was often so bad that the medicine didn't work. I learned to curl my body up tight, and somehow, it seemed to hurt a little less.
I woke the next morning feeling completely unaffected by the news. As I was getting ready to head out for a run, I glanced at the security camera feed. Ethan was standing outside my door.
As if sensing my presence, he reached out and rang the doorbell.
My hand tightened on the doorknob. I didn't want to open it. I didn't want to see him again.
"Eleanor, I know you're in there," his voice drifted through the small speaker, tinny and distant. "Eleanor I was so stupid."
On the blurry screen, he gave a bitter, self-deprecating smile.
"All that time you told me over and over that Zoe had feelings for me. I never believed you."
Outside my door, his shoulders slumped, and he seemed to radiate an aura of utter defeat.
"I wasn't a good partner."
"But, Eleanor I love you. That has always been true."
His declaration, or whatever it was, felt like a joke.
When I finally opened the door, he looked up, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin.
I said nothing, letting my silence be his dismissal.
But he ignored it, continuing as if I'd invited him to speak.
"Was it because of that day?" he asked, his voice cracking. "The one time you needed me most, and I wasn't there. Is that why? Is that why you'll never need me again?"
His eyes pleaded with me, begging me not to confirm his fears.
I let my gaze drift over the decor in the hallway. We had decorated this place together. Id only been back a few days and had neither the mood nor the energy to change it. Traces of a younger Ethan were everywhere.
I sighed softly. "It wasn't just once."
His head shot up, his eyes wide with shock.
As he stared at me in disbelief, I unclasped the bracelet from my wrist.
A jagged, ugly scar was revealed beneath it. The raised, keloid tissue was a testament to how hard I must have pressed down.

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