Chilling Winter Rain, Unthawable Heart
Title: How did you, a woman from a humble background, become the main character of your own life and climb the social ladder?
The top-voted answer sent a chill down my spine.
A good man doesn't just fall into your lap. You have to fight for him.
"Im a wedding photographer. The groom-to-be, the wealthiest man in the city, was once my client. His frumpy ex-girlfriend didnt deserve him. You have to be ruthless to get ahead. I orchestrated her miscarriage and made sure she lost the use of one of her legs. Thats what it took to get rid of her for good. Now, Im finally pregnant with a boy, and in three days, Im marrying into high society."
My fingers traced the scar on my abdomen. The rideshare pulled up to the villa.
Finally. One word, casually dismissing the hell I had endured for three years.
I looked up, and there she wasthe author of the post, draped in a couture maternity dress. Her eyes, filled with a sickening pity, were fixed on my crippled leg.
"I can't believe you're still alive," she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "And in such a pathetic state. Name your price. I'll write you a check."
1
Before I could answer, my ex-fianc, Paul Hindle, stepped out from behind her.
"Ava and I are getting married soon," he said, his tone condescending. "Helping you out would be good karma. Just give us a number. As long as it's not too outrageous, well take care of it. After all, you did help me when I was struggling. I haven't forgotten. As a thank you, you can come work for us as a housekeeper after the wedding. It'll be easier than dragging that leg of yours all over the city for work."
Paul's words ignited a fire in my best friend, who was helping me with my equipment. She stepped in front of me, her voice sharp with fury.
"Have you no shame, Paul? You're a leech who got his start thanks to Maya. You have no right to act like you're doing her a favor! Does your housekeeper's monthly salary even cover one of Maya's photoshoots? You specifically requested the best photographer in the city, and this is how you treat her? We don't need your charity."
The bodyguards standing nearby blanched. I remained silent. My friend had spoken the words straight from my heart. If it weren't for the pressure from Paul's family, I would have never agreed to this. This was all a humiliating setup by Ava, designed to provoke me into walking away. And I was more than happy to oblige.
But Paul, surprisingly, didn't get angry. He just frowned, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "What are you talking about? What happened back then? When have I ever done anything to wrong Maya?"
He looked genuinely baffled. I realized in that moment that he was clueless about what had really happened.
But what did it matter? His concern, three years too late, was worthless.
Paul started to press for an answer, but a delicate hand tugged at his sleeve. I glanced at my own atrophied leg, then at Avas perfectly manicured hands. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.
"Paul, darling," she cooed, "I heard the top photographer in the city is Mrs. Sterling, the wife of CEO Sterling. Making a connection with her would be a huge boost for your career. But this woman she's ruined our chance! Shes an imposter. What if Mr. Sterling gets angry with you?"
She turned her venomous gaze on me. "She left you for money three years ago without a word of explanation. Now that her life is a mess, shes back, trying to play the victim."
As she spoke, Ava pinched her own arm, her face instantly turning pale. She clutched her stomach, her voice trembling. "Oh, I think I think the baby is distressed. If you still have some pity for your old flame, I can wait"
"I was a fool," Paul said, his voice tight with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have expected anything from her."
He motioned to the bodyguards. "She's here now. Get her inside and let's get this over with."
Six or seven burly men pushed us forward. My injured leg buckled, a sharp pain shooting through it. They handled my precious camera equipment with brutal carelessness.
Ava, pretending to be too weak to walk, fell behind and whispered in my ear, her voice a venomous hiss only I could hear. "I was lying. Mrs. Sterling is the moon in the sky. You're just the mud on the ground. I couldn't get her, of course, but it was easy enough to get you, you pathetic cripple, for a bit of fun. I'm marrying Paul in three days. This is just a warning. Get out of the city, or I'll make sure you can't survive here."
Then, she pulled a thin needle from her sleeve and jabbed it into my arm. I cried out and fell to the ground.
All I got from Paul was an impatient frown.
But they didn't know. I was the "Mrs. Sterling" they were so desperate to impress.
2
Inside, the torment continued. Ava made me fetch her water, a stainless steel cup filled with boiling water that scalded my hands. She tripped me, then ground her heel into my bad leg. When my friend and I tried to leave, the bodyguards blocked the door with clubs. Paul took our phones and locked them in his safe.
"A maternity shoot is a once-in-a-lifetime moment," he said. "I can't have you distracted."
The fact that he was so paranoid, in this house he had once given me, all for a photoshoot, made me sick to my stomach.
This villa had been my engagement present from him. That safe had once held our wedding rings.
In college, he was the poor boy, and I was the poor girl. Paul would skip meals to buy me a single flower. He'd work all summer to buy me a new phone. He was handsome, and so gentle with me. My father was a violent, gambling addict. My mother, broken by his abuse, had lost her mind. The first twenty years of my life were a canvas of gray. Paul was the only splash of color.
He brought me sweet tea when I had my period, and was a solid shoulder to cry on when the world was too much. I, starved for affection, fell for his persistent advances. I thought I had found my happily ever after.
After graduation, I got a job at a photo studio. Paul started his own business. He was good to me, and I was good to him. When his company was struggling, I gave him my entire salary, leaving myself with just enough for cheap meals. When he couldn't find investors, I gave him my life's savings to keep his dream alive.
After landing his first big contract, Paul proposed. He put the deed to this villa and a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg in my hand. I said yes.
I knew my dysfunctional family would be a problem for him. I had my mother admitted to a psychiatric hospital and was gathering evidence to put my father in prison. I was doing everything I could to build a future for us. I gave him everything.
Then I found out I was pregnant.
But Paul was getting busier. He stopped coming home, stopped answering my texts. I never even had the chance to tell him the good news. Every complaint I voiced was dismissed as nagging.
We went for our wedding photoshoot and met Ava, a photographer at another studio. The way she looked at my fianc made my skin crawl. But Paul, ever the gentleman, was oblivious. He was as kind and polite to her as he was to everyone.
Years of being neglected had made me sensitive. Five years of love had made me believe I had the right to be demanding. I threw a tantrum, picking a wedding dress without any care.
"Sir," Ava had said to Paul, her voice dripping with faux concern, "your fiance seems so careless about her dress. Are you sure she loves you? You're a successful man. You could have anyone. Why settle for someone who doesn't appreciate you?"
I waited for Paul to defend me. He didn't. His silence was the last straw.
"Paul," I said, my voice shaking, "let's call off the wedding. I don't want to do this anymore."
He panicked, but before he could apologize, Ava stepped in. "I don't think you did anything wrong, sir. Your fiance is being disrespectful and petty. A woman like that needs to be taught a lesson before she can appreciate a good man like you."
From that day on, we were locked in a cold war. He tried to apologize at first, but every time, a phone call would interrupt him. I peeked at his phone once. It was always Ava. Eventually, he stopped trying. Ava found more and more excuses to see him. Dinners, business trips.
Before I could even process my heartbreak, my father called. He threatened to hang himself and my mother if I didn't pay off his gambling debts. He sent me a video of my mother gasping for air. I pretended to agree, telling him I would get the money from Paul after we were married.
I begged Paul to help me rescue my mother. He came out of a spa, looking annoyed. He put on his headphones and drove, his face growing darker and darker. Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes on the side of the highway and kicked me out of the car.
"Maya! Were you only with me for my money? Was our entire relationship a lie?"
His roar of betrayal made no sense. I had loved him with everything I had. What more did he want?
The cold rain and mud brought me back to reality. I tried to argue, but he slammed the door and drove off.
All the color he had brought into my life turned back to gray.
That night, abandoned on the highway, I was hit by a car. My leg was crushed. I was thrown over the side of a cliff. My mother, tormented by my father, took her own life. In the agony of it all, I miscarried. I lost the ability to ever have children.
In the hospital, alone and broken, I called Paul, crying. In the long hours of waiting for him to pick up, I had already forgiven him. I just wanted a shoulder to lean on.
But Ava answered the phone. "Maya, what do you have that I don't?"
I heard a drunken slur in the background. It was Paul. "She only loves my money, not me. Why should I care about her? She can go die for all I care. I can find any woman I want. You're the only one who understands me, Ava."
3
His words echoed in my mind, a cruel ghost in the present. But now, I no longer wasted my sorrow on a man who wasn't worth it.
After the shoot, I packed up my equipment and grabbed my friend's arm, ready to leave. But Paul blocked our path. He shoved a wad of cash and a wedding invitation into my pocket, his face a mixture of pity and annoyance.
"I'll say this one last time," I said, cutting him off. "I wouldn't have come here if I had a choice. This was a job. We have no reason to see each other again. I don't owe you anything. You were the one who neglected our relationship, who cheated. I have a husband and a family now. Please, leave us alone."
My husband, Leo's, work was classified. To protect him, I had never revealed my identity as his wife. But that didn't mean I would let myself be bullied.
I tore the cash into tiny pieces, my eyes locked on his livid face.
As I got into the car, Ava leaned in. "Do you want to know why Paul really left you on the highway? Your father sold me your call logs. I played them for Paul. A little creative editing, you know. If he really loved you, would he have believed it so easily? The driver who hit you? I hired him. And your baby you could have saved it. I just paid the doctor to make sure you didn't."
Her voice was triumphant, cruel. The truth, finally laid bare. It hurt, but I wasn't angry. I almost wanted to laugh. All my rage and tears had been spent five years ago. I had Leo now, a man I could trust with my life. He had healed the wounds Paul had left. Whether it was Ava or Paul who had destroyed me, it didn't matter. I had moved on. I would never forgive them.
But if what Ava said was true, the one who would live with regret was Paul.
"Not angry? Let's see how long you can keep up this facade," she sneered.
Before I could process her words, my phone rang. It was the pet sitter. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach.
After the accident, the miscarriage, I had left the hospital in a wheelchair. The sky above was filled with drones, spelling out Paul's love for Ava. I clutched the ugly scar on my stomach, grieving for myself, for my lost child. A stray cat had jumped into my lap, pulling me back from the edge of suicide. I saw him as the reincarnation of my child, a symbol of my farewell to a painful past.
Ava was still on the phone, her voice a gleeful purr. "Miss Reed, your cat was just stolen. Beaten to death on the side of the road."
They had killed my child again.
I rushed to the pet store, my friend trying to comfort me. Ava's post was gaining more traction. To justify her affair, she had released more "evidence," all of it twisted and taken out of context.
The frumpy ex-girlfriend's father was an abuser. She inherited his violent streak. She drove her own mother to suicide and abuses animals.
She was controlling and violent towards my fianc. I was saving him from a toxic relationship.
Shes also a photographer. Her early work is full of plagiarism.
My friend tried to take my phone, but I saw the comments. The tide had turned against me. I held my cat's bloody, broken body, the hateful comments scrolling on my screen. They cheered for Paul and Ava, a "true love story." They wished me a painful death.
Someone in the crowd shouted, "Hey, she's a photographer, she's a cripple, and she's holding a dead cat! Isn't that the abusive bitch from the viral post?"
A mob surrounded me, their faces twisted with scorn. I tried to explain, but the blood on my hands condemned me. My friend tried to get the pet store owner to tell the truth, but he just mouthed "I'm sorry" and then shouted, "I saw it! She beat her own cat to death!"
People started throwing their drinks at me, my expensive camera equipment was smashed to pieces in the name of "animal justice." They tried to take my cat's body from me. I fought to protect his remains, my heart breaking all over again.
I knew this was all Ava's doing.
The phone rang again. One call from her, one from him.
"How does it feel? Still think you can act all high and mighty?"
"If you don't get out of the city, away from my husband, I will destroy you, piece by piece."
"Maya, did you get the wedding invitation? You'd better be there. It would be unwise not to."
"All the city's elite will be there, including CEO Sterling. You love money, don't you? Find a rich man to sleep with. You'll be set for life."
They called themselves inspiring, kind. But they were just using me as fuel for their own happiness.
The blood on my hands grew cold. My cat's body was stiff. I had had enough.
"Release it," I told my friend, my voice eerily calm. "Everything you've compiled. The evidence of Ava's crimes, my medical records from back then. Release it all as a response to her lies."
Then, I dialed the emergency number Leo had given me.
Some men are swayed by a third party's whispers. Others will walk through fire to save you.
"Honey, who hurt you? I'll kill them."
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