The Snowstorm Never Stopped That Year

1
The night before my wedding, I found my fianc tangled in the sheets with his savior's sister.
She was wrapped in our scarlet silk duvet, the flush of passion still on her cheeks.
I slapped the positive pregnancy test onto his bare chest. Do you still want this baby? I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
He chain-smoked until dawn, then crushed the last cigarette. "It's a responsibility with her," he said, his voice raspy. "But it's you I love."
For that single phrase, I put on the white dress. I decided to give him one last chance.
Instead of my groom, I got a message: "I'm so sorry, Ms. Vance. Mr. Lockwood says the wedding is off. Miss Reed had a heart attack, she's in critical condition."
The bouquet slipped from my fingers, shattering on the marble floor along with my dignity.
I ran outside just in time to see his car disappearing down the street, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and humiliation.
I called him, my voice cracking on the edge of a scream. "Tim Lockwood! If you go to her today, I swear I'll go to the hospital tomorrow and make sure the Lockwood line ends with you!"
A moment of dead silence, and then he hung up.
The dial tone buzzed in my ear.
I stood at the hotel entrance, a bride without a groom, the gown a cruel joke. Guests whispered behind their hands, their pity like a thousand tiny needles. The officiant stood awkwardly on the stage, microphone in hand, at a complete loss for words.
Tim's mother, Catherine, hurried over, grabbing my hand. "Stella, come inside. Don't give them a spectacle."
I looked at her, my voice barely a whisper. "Catherine, the wedding is off."
"Nonsense!" she hissed, her voice low and urgent. "Tim is just confused. Lily's condition is critical, he can't just ignore her."
"So he can take care of her, but not me?"
"You're the woman he's marrying. You need to be the bigger person."
A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
I pulled my hand from her grasp.
"Then I won't be Mrs. Lockwood."
I turned, gathered the ridiculous skirt of my dress, and walked towards the back rooms.
Catherine's voice followed me, sharp and threatening. "Stella Vance! If you walk out that door today, you will never set foot in our family's home again!"
I didn't look back.
In the dressing room, I tore off the wedding gown and changed into my own clothes. The makeup artist carefully removed the pins and jewels from my hair.
"Miss Vance, your makeup..."
"Leave it."
I picked up my purse and walked out.
Outside, the sky was a bruised, unforgiving grey.
I hailed a cab.
"Mercy General Hospital, please."
My phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out. It was Tim's assistant, Mark.
I ignored the call.
I already knew the script by heart. Mr. Lockwood is handling an emergency. Mr. Lockwood didn't mean for this to happen. Mr. Lockwood will explain everything later.
After ten years, I was tired of their lines.
Lily Reed was Tim's responsibility.
Because her brother, Liam, had died five years ago saving Tim's life.
It was a debt that had shadowed Tim for five long years.
I used to think it was right for him to look after her. I used to believe in his honor.
It was only today that I understood. Some debts have boundaries, and he had crossed them long ago.
The taxi pulled up to the hospital.
I paid the driver and walked into the emergency building.
Tim was sitting on a bench outside the ICU, his head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair. His suit jacket was tossed carelessly beside him.
He heard my heels click on the linoleum and looked up. He scrambled to his feet when he saw me.
His eyes were shot with red.
"Stella, what are you doing here? I'm so sorry, today..."
"How is she?" I cut him off, my gaze fixed on the closed doors of the ICU.
"The doctors said it was acute heart failure. They're still working on her. It doesn't look good."
"I see." I nodded.
I turned to leave.
Tim grabbed my arm.
"Stella, don't be like this. Liam died for me. I can't abandon Lily. She has no one else in the world."
I shook his hand off.
"I'm not being 'like this,' Tim. I just find it interesting that our wedding wasn't as important as a woman you've known for five years."
"That's not it! Stella, you're the most important thing in my life! But she's dying!"
"The doctors haven't said she's going to die," I stated, my voice flat and even.
Tim's lips parted, but no words came out.
Just then, the ICU doors swung open and a doctor emerged.
"Who's with Lily Reed?"
Tim rushed forward. "I am."
"The patient had a panic attack that caused her heart rate to spike. We've stabilized her. She's not in any mortal danger. We'll move her to a regular room for a couple of days of observation."
A wave of relief washed over Tim's face.
He turned to look at me, and his expression held a hint of reprimand.
"See? The poor girl is all alone. Can't you have a little compassion?"
I said nothing.
They wheeled the gurney out. Lily lay on it, her face pale, her eyes closed.
As she passed me, her eyelashes trembled, her eyes cracking open just enough to meet mine. Tears instantly welled up, spilling down her temples.
Tim was by her side in a second, taking her hand.
"Lily, don't be afraid. I'm here."
I turned and walked out of the hospital.
The cold wind hit my face, and only then did I realize how hard my own heart was pounding.
2
Tim didn't come home the next day.
The wedding suite was cloaked in a dead silence.
I called a real estate agent and put the apartment on the market.
"Yes, an urgent sale."
He came back that afternoon, his face etched with exhaustion. "Stella, I'm apologizing on Lily's behalf. She didn't mean for what happened yesterday."
"Can't she apologize for herself?"
Tim hesitated. "She's still very weak."
"Tim, let's not talk about her. Let's talk about us. What about the wedding? What do we tell our friends and family?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
"We'll wait for things to blow over. Then we'll have another ceremony."
"Another ceremony?" I stared at him. "You think this is something you can just 're-do'?"
"Then what do you want me to do? It already happened! Stella, I know you're hurting, but Lily just survived a near-death experience. Can we please just show a little understanding?"
There was that word again. Understanding.
I stood up, walked into the bedroom, and pulled out a suitcase. I began to pack.
Tim frowned. "What are you doing?"
"I've listed the apartment."
His face hardened. "Stella, are you done with this tantrum?"
"I'm not throwing a tantrum." I folded a shirt neatly into the suitcase. "I just don't want to live here anymore."
He strode over and grabbed my wrist.
"You are not selling this place! This is our home!"
"It stopped being our home the moment you abandoned it for another woman."
The anger in his eyes flared.
"You're being completely irrational!"
His phone rang, shattering the tense silence. He answered it, and his tone shifted instantly. "What's wrong? Another nightmare? Don't be scared, I'll be right there."
He hung up and let go of me, his face a mask of impatience.
"Stella, stop this. Lily isn't stable yet. I have to go check on her. We'll talk when I get back."
He expected me to yield, just like all the other times.
"If you walk out that door today," I said, my voice cold as ice, "don't bother coming back."
He froze mid-step.
He turned to look at me, his gaze glacial. "Stella, my patience has its limits."
And then, he left.
I listened to the sound of the door closing.
I placed the last item in my suitcase and zipped it shut.
3
I moved back into my studio, a small loft space with my design workshop downstairs and living quarters upstairs.
Tim didn't call.
And I didn't call him.
A week later, his mother, Catherine, asked to meet.
At the caf, she slid a check across the table.
"Ten million dollars. Leave my son."
I stared at the long line of zeros.
"Catherine, this isn't about money."
"I know," she said, lifting her coffee cup. "You two have a decade of history. But you need to understand, Stella, the Lockwood family needs a wife who is gracious, who can support Tim, not a liability who only causes trouble."
"And Lily is gracious?"
"Lily is simple and kind. And her brother saved Tim's life. It's only right that Tim protects her. As his fiance, you should be supporting him, not fighting him."
I finally understood.
In their eyes, all my pain, all my humiliation, was just me "causing trouble."
I pushed the check back to her.
"I don't want the money. And I don't want Tim anymore, either."
I stood up. "I wish him and Lily a lifetime of happiness."
I walked out of the caf and blocked every number associated with the Lockwood family.
The world finally went quiet.
I threw myself into preparing for the Milan Jewelry Design Competition, three months away. It was the highest aspiration I held as a designer.
Life was full, and peaceful.
Until an unwelcome guest showed up at my studio one day.
Lily.
She wore a simple white dress, no makeup, the very picture of fragile innocence.
"Stella, I came to apologize."
She sat down across from me, her eyes already red-rimmed.
"On the wedding day... it was my fault. I shouldn't have..."
"Get to the point," I said without looking up from my sketch.
She faltered.
"Tim... he's been in a really bad way these past few days. Drinking all the time. I know it's because of me."
She took a credit card out of her purse.
"This is the card Tim gave me. I saved up everything he gave me, I never spent it. I'm giving it back to you. Please, just don't be angry with him anymore, okay?"
I finally put down my pen and looked at her.
"Lily, do you enjoy this?"
The rehearsed expression on her face froze.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Every time you get sick, every time you have an 'incident,' it's always right at a crucial moment for him and me. You time this, don't you, Lily?"
Her face went pale. "No, I would never..."
"Take your card and get the hell out of my studio."
She bit her lip, and tears began to fall.
"Stella, I know you hate me. But... but if the person who died five years ago had been Tim instead of my brother, what would you do?"
I stared at her, silent.
She stood up and placed the card on my desk.
"Believe me or not, I never wanted to destroy what you had."
"I'm just... so lonely."
She turned and left.
I threw the card in the trash.
That night, Tim came.
He was drunk, reeking of whiskey as he kicked open the door to my studio.
"Stella! What did you do to Lily?"
He stormed towards me, grabbing my shoulders.
"She went home and slit her wrists! If the housekeeper hadn't found her, she'd be dead! Are you satisfied now?"
My heart sank into a cold, dark pit.
The same old trick.
"I didn't do anything."
"Still lying! She's a kind soul, she came to give you her savings, and you had to provoke her?"
His grip was crushing, my shoulders ached.
"Tim, who do you believe? Her, or me?"
He stopped.
I stared into his eyes, watching the storm of emotions warring within them.
Finally, he shoved me away. "I'm taking you to the hospital. You're going to apologize to her!"
"I'm not going."
"It's not up to you!"
He grabbed me, trying to drag me out the door.
I fought back, struggling against his hold.
"Tim, you're insane!"
"You're the one who's insane!" he roared, his eyes wild. "You never used to be like this! When did you become so vicious, so unreasonable?"
He was right.
I never used to be like this.
The old me would have believed every word he said, understood his every dilemma. I would have shouldered his responsibilities as if they were my own.
When did it all change?
It probably started when he began choosing another woman over me, time and time again.
He dragged me down the stairs, his car parked right outside. He wrenched the passenger door open and tried to shove me inside.
With a final surge of strength, I broke free.
"Tim," I said, my voice eerily calm. "We're over."
He froze, as if he couldn't process what he'd just heard.
"What did you say?"
"I said, we're breaking up. From now on, you and your precious Lily have nothing to do with me."
His face turned to stone. "Stella, don't you dare say something you'll regret."
"My biggest regret is spending ten years pulling you from the gutter, only for you to spend the next ten pushing me back into it."
I turned, walked back upstairs, and slammed the door, locking it behind me.
I leaned against it, listening to him pound on the wood.
Again and again.
Then, the sound of an engine roaring to life.
He was gone.
I slid to the floor, hugging my knees.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen.
I looked down.
Blood was trickling down my legs.

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