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By the third year of my marriage to Zane Lowe, the temperature had dropped to a frigid -76 °F. When he was escorting a group of energy experts, the ice suddenly cracked beneath them. Zane begged me to save Janelle Steele, his first love, and not worry about him. However, the monitors showed that Zane's location had a 78% chance of a successful rescue due to the most stable structure, while Janelle's area was already teetering on the brink of another collapse. "I'm sorry," I whispered. Then I cut off his desperate call and shouted at the rescue team, "Save Zane first!" As we lifted Zane to safety, the section next to us crumbled completely. Janelle didn't make it, and Zane was left with a permanent limp. In the eighth year of the Great Freeze, I risked my life to find supplies we desperately needed. With hope in my heart, I raced back to the shelter, only to overhear Zane speaking to his right-hand man. "She abandoned Janelle for her own selfish reasons, and that's why Janelle died so young. Every day she lives reminds me how much I hate her," Zane said coldly. He lured me to the edge of a frozen cliff and pushed me off the icy ledge himself. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on that fateful day, gripping the communicator with trembling hands. This time, I quietly cut off the connection and made my way to the equipment depot. I hissed, "Since you're so desperate to save her, putting your own life on the line... "I'll make sure that happens."