Frost Everywhere

I was rear-ended. The girl who hit me was a mess of frantic apologies, begging to handle it privately.

When I refused, she made a call for help.

Half an hour later, my husband, Sebastian, arrived at the scene.

The girl was wracked with guilt, but Sebastian, my always-composed husband, was the one offering her gentle words of comfort.

Thats when I realized I knew her.

From the photograph he kept on his desk.

The woman he fought his entire family for, long before he married me.

The one that got away.

I was thrown against the steering wheel by the sudden impact. The world swam for a second, and then clarity hit.

Id been rear-ended.

I leaned my head back, my heart hammering against my ribs. A few deep breaths later, just as my pulse began to settle, a frantic knocking shattered the quiet of the car. It was sharp and insistent, a desperate rhythm that made my temples throb. The discomfort peaked, and I rolled down the window.

A young woman was bent over, peering in. She froze for a second, then her words tumbled out in a rush. Im so sorry! Are you okay?

She was young, slender, dressed in a light-blue denim dress. Her skin was pale, her eyes enormous and wide with a kind of dewy, innocent confusion. For some reason, I felt a flicker of recognition, a strange sense of familiarity, even though I was sure Id never seen her before.

I hit the hazard lights and unbuckled my seatbelt, my voice heavy with fatigue. Lets just follow procedure.

She just stood there, silent. I glanced over at her, my brow furrowing. Could we could we possibly handle this privately? she asked, her voice small and pleading.

I know its a lot to ask, she said, biting her lip. I just bought this car, and my mom shes really sick

Maam, I cut her off. First things first. Can you please put out the warning triangle?

Her eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears.

Its rush hour. Its dangerous not to have it out, I said, my patience wearing thin. Dont you even know the basics?

Im so sorry! She ducked her head, the picture of shame, and apologized again. Ill go put it out right now.

A dull ache radiated from my lower back. I waited a moment before getting out of the car. The damage wasnt catastrophic, but a long, ugly scrape marred most of the rear bumper.

The girls car was a standard white sedan. A sticker on the back window read, New Driver. Please Be Patient.

I gave it a passing glance.

After setting up the triangle, she hurried back over. She saw me taking pictures with my phone and hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Hi, this is all my fault, she finally managed. But could we please not call the police? Can we just settle this between ourselves?

My back hurts, and this was a serious collision, I said, looking straight at her. If we handle this privately, how will you compensate me? More importantly, how will my interests be protected?

I I can pay for the car repairs first, she stammered. Or I can take you to the hospital right now.

This is a Panamera. I just picked it up two days ago.

The color drained from her face. She stared at me, speechless.

I sighed. Just call your insurance company.

She looked down, her fingers tracing nervous patterns on her phone screen. I I haven't gotten insurance for it yet, she whispered.

My voice was cold. And how is that my problem?

She blinked rapidly, her eyes slowly turning red.

I didnt say another word. She was at fault, yet she didnt have a clue how to handle the most basic steps of a post-accident procedure. It was all on me.

After calling the police and my insurance agent, a wave of exhaustion washed over me. I got back into my car to wait. I sent a quick text to Sebastian, just to let him know Id be late getting back to The Summit tonight.

We were both busy, but wed planned to have dinner together. I didnt mention the accident; he was swamped with a new project, and I didnt want to worry him.

After locking my phone, I glanced in the rearview mirror. The girl was on her phone now, her posture a mixture of distress and dependence. I guessed she was talking to her boyfriend.

The police and the insurance adjuster arrived quickly, followed shortly by my assistant.

The girl, after her phone call, had done nothing but wait. Now, surrounded by a small crowd, she looked terribly alone, a strangely pitiful figure. My assistant checked on me first, and after confirming I was alright, went to handle the negotiations. I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.

A moment later, I glanced up, and my body went rigid.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Sebastians secretary, Peterson, talking to a police officer.

What was Peterson doing here?

In the next second, the girls face lit up. She took a few eager steps forward, then stopped abruptly. Her dress swayed as she bit her lip, a shy tremor of emotion, and mouthed a name.

It was strange. In that one frozen moment, I could read her lips perfectly.

She said, Mr. Blackwood.

A tall man in a black trench coat stepped into the frame of my mirror. He was lean and powerful, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

I threw the car door open.

The girls head was bowed in a mix of shame and guilt. Im so sorry, she was saying, her voice thick with emotion. I only called you because I had no one else to turn to.

I just bought the car, my mom is so sick, and I never even got around to buying insurance. Her voice broke on a sob. The other car its a luxury car. I dont even know what kind. Shes demanding

She choked on her words, unable to continue.

Sebastian hadnt seen me. His eyes seemed fixed on the girl in front of him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a softness in it, a gentleness I had never seen before.

Its okay, he said, his usually cool voice laced with reassurance. Peterson will take care of it.

The girl was crying softly now. Sebastian seemed to let out a sigh before offering her a handkerchief.

It was a pale green silk square. Id bought it for him in Paris a month ago.

Last week, we were kissing in the car, and he had used that same handkerchief to wipe away my smudged lipstick. He had pulled me onto his lap, and when Id asked for it back as I was getting out, he leaned away, a faint smile playing on his lips as he tucked it into his breast pocket. I pretended to be annoyed, and he leaned in to kiss the tip of my nose, murmuring, What, cant even spare a single handkerchief for me?

I thought he treasured it.

A buzzing started in my ears. How ironic, I thought. He was more than willing to spare it now.

Just as the girl took the handkerchief, Peterson turned and saw me. Mrs. Blackwood?!

Sebastians head snapped in my direction. Our eyes met. The setting sun cast his sharp features in shadow, and his eyes were wide with undisguised shock.

I looked down at my phone. No new messages. He hadn't replied to my text.

But he had come here, in person, to stand on the opposite side of this conflict, negotiating compensation for the person who had crashed into me.

It made my attempt to shield him from worry seem utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my head, a dizzying whiteout. In my peripheral vision, I saw the girl smile.

It was a triumphant smile. Not hesitant, not pitiful anymore. It was calm, knowing, as if she had expected this all along.

And suddenly, I understood why she had looked so familiar.

I knew her. From a photo Sebastian kept on his desk in his study.

Before he married me, Sebastian had fought his entire family, ready to give up everything.

She was the one that got away, the woman he swore he would marry.

My husbands old flame, Lily.

A delicate, charged silence fell over the scene.

Peterson glanced at me, then at Lily, his face a mask of professional anxiety. He had been with Sebastian for years; he knew all the stories of his reckless youth.

After a long moment, Sebastian shrugged off his trench coat and walked towards me.

The familiar scent of sandalwood enveloped me as he draped the coat over my shoulders.

Why didnt you text me? he asked, his voice even, as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Are you hurt anywhere?

I did, I said, meeting his gaze. You didnt reply.

Before he could answer, a police officer approached Lily. Maam, youll need to upload the liability statement.

Lilys eyes darted to Sebastian, then quickly away, a flicker of fear in her expression. Of course, she said meekly.

I knew Sebastian too well. The moment the words left Lilys lips, I started counting in my head.

One two

On the third second, Sebastian spoke. Peterson, you handle it.

Peterson wouldnt look at me as he turned to follow the officer.

I let out a small, bitter laugh. Just as I expected.

Sebastian took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, the same placating gesture he always used when I was upset.

Mr. Blackwood, Lily broke the awkward silence. Do you two know each other?

I laughed again, a hollow sound, and looked at Sebastian, already knowing what was coming.

His handsome features tightened, his jaw clenching. He gave a single, sharp nod. Shes my wife.

The subtle shift in his expression was like a needle to my heart.

For the first time, I hated how well I understood him.

Because I knew, in that instant, that he wasnt declaring our unity to Lily. He wasnt defending me.

He was using the title of wife as a weapon against her, a bitter, resentful way of proving: Ive moved on.

After all, everyone knew that after a year of fighting for her, it was Lily who had finally given up and broken up with him.

This gift for sensing the emotional undercurrents of a room could be a curse.

Right now, Lilys feigned surprise and Sebastians thin veneer of calm felt like a suffocating performance.

The anger and humiliation drained out of me, replaced by the cold realization that in this three-person drama, I was the one left on the outside.

Sebastian and I were the married ones, but it didnt matter.

I felt like a damp cloth, wrung out and discarded. A strange, twisted ache settled in my chest.

Lily tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down as if to hide a wave of disappointment. You two make a beautiful couple, she murmured.

I stared at her, my face a blank mask. After three seconds, I pulled my hand from Sebastians and turned away.

I was back in my car for less than a minute when the passenger door opened. I grabbed the trench coat from my shoulders and threw it at him.

Sebastian caught it, as if hed been expecting it.

He leaned in, his solid frame filling the space, and pulled me into his arms. I struggled, but he held me fast, his strength overwhelming mine.

Im sorry, he murmured, his hand cupping the back of my head as he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. Im late.

Get out, I hissed, turning my face away. You make me sick.

I was trying to get back at her when I told her you were my wife.

My struggles ceased. That was Sebastianalways brutally honest about his feelings, so honest it could set your teeth on edge.

He cradled my face in his hands, his head dipping low until our noses touched, our breath mingling in the small space.

I lost control, he said softly. It was wrong of me to embarrass you like that.

I shouldnt have used that tone when I introduced you. She was at fault, and I shouldnt have stepped in to solve her problem without knowing the facts, effectively putting myself in opposition to you.

His light brown eyes reflected only me. His thumb caressed my cheek. This is the one and only time. I promise.

He knows, a voice screamed in my head. He knows exactly what hes doing.

I had known Sebastian for too long. He never hid anything from me, including what I saw in his eyes right now.

He was admitting it. He still hadnt completely moved on from Lily.

I closed my eyes, a familiar sense of helplessness washing over me like a cold tide.

My assistant drove the car to the hospital, where I had a full check-up.

The results showed nothing serious. Sebastian spoke with the doctor at length, carefully noting down all the instructions. In these matters, he was always impeccable.

He drove on the way back, his other hand firmly laced with mine.

The mountain road twisted and turned, offering sweeping views of the glittering harbor and the city skyline below.

For some reason, my mind drifted back. It had been ten years since I first met Sebastian at The Summit, when I was just seventeen. A decade, gone in a flash.

The Sebastian of ten years ago was impossibly arrogant, a young man for whom life was an effortless conquest. A privileged background was one thing, but he had the rare luxury of both freedom and love. He was a golden boy who did whatever he wanted.

I couldnt say if I was jealous of him. Our families were of similar standing, our ages close, and for years, my name was always mentioned in the same breath as his, a constant comparison.

But I was never as lucky as he was.

That summer at The Summit, he stood on the second-floor balcony, hair still tousled from sleep, and looked down at me. So youre Julia?

Later, I went upstairs, and we played a couple of video games.

And after that, to escape our mutually resentful parents, I became a regular visitor at The Summit.

Sebastian and I were two sides of the same coin. Lying side-by-side in the attic one day, he suddenly said, It feels like youre another version of me.

I flipped the book of poetry I was reading onto his face. To receive such high praise from the great Sebastian Blackwood, I am truly humbled.

He turned his head just as I shifted onto my side. The book slid off, and the tip of my nose brushed his cheek. My lips parted slightly.

We fell silent, the air between us thick with the ambiguous dance of our breathing.

That kiss never happened.

As he closed his eyes and leaned towards me, I snatched the book from the floor.

I can still remember it now. It was a collection of poems by John Keats.