Chapter 1
After a ten-year marathon of love, Benjamin and I finally made it official.
Right after we got our marriage license, with the Christmas around the corner, we decided to take some time off and head up to the Arctic to see the snow and maybe even catch the northern lights.
On our third day in the mountains, a blizzard hit. We were trapped up there.
Benjamin left me alone at the camp to look for help.
But instead of rescuers, he came back with a mute girl.
She was fragile and shivering, so Benjamin gave her my tent.
She was starving, so he handed her the last of my food.
And when she glanced at my wedding ring, he slipped it off my finger and offered it to her.
"Everything you have, I paid for. If Zoe wants something, you give it to her," Benjamin said.
I looked at him and let out a cold smile. "So if she wants it, I have to hand it over, right? Fine. You… I don't want you anymore.
"I'll give you to her too. Is that enough?"
*****
Benjamin paused for a moment before he reacted. "Audrey, do you really have to throw a fit right now?
"Did I not say it clearly enough? Zoe saved me. I can't just pretend that didn't happen.
"You're my wife. Shouldn't you be helping me repay her and make sure she gets home safely?"
"Benjamin, she saved you. I already gave her my tent, my food, the ring, and even you. What else do you expect from me?" I shot back.
"You—" He glared at me, ready to snap, when Zoe suddenly rolled her eyes back and collapsed.
Benjamin gasped, "Zoe?"
He scooped her up in his arms and rushed inside the tent.
He completely forgot his wife was still standing outside in twenty-something-below-zero weather, shaking from the cold.
He didn't even remember that I was the one who couldn't stand the cold at all.
When I was twenty, I was diagnosed with severe cold-induced rheumatic joint pain.
Every winter, especially on rainy nights, my joints swelled so much that even bending them felt impossible.
Back when we first got together, he cared deeply.
On those winter nights when the pain kept me awake, he would stay up with me, talking softly and massaging my joints until sunrise.
Sometimes he massaged me until he passed out with his head resting on the edge of the bed, and he'd wake up the next morning with red, puffy eyes.
I used to tease him for being childish, worrying so much over what I called "a small issue."
He always pushed back, telling me no health issue is small and that I needed to take my body seriously.
He promised he would take care of me too.
I knew part of it came from guilt.
In our early startup years, most of our clients were in the north.
We couldn't afford hotels, so we slept under cold, drafty bridges.
When the temperature dropped below ten degrees, he held me close and wrapped our only blanket around me, terrified I would get chilled.
But I still got sick, and that winter cold settled into a lifelong illness.
After that, he kept two blankets in his passenger seat labeled "Wife's Blanket Only," and he never left the house without bringing an extra jacket for me, no matter the season.
The herbal medicine I had to drink three times a week took hours to brew, yet he never missed a single batch.
Under his care, my flare-ups became rare, nearly once a year at most, which was why I felt safe enough to take this snowy mountain trip.
But this past year, he barely came home. Sometimes he stayed away for half a month.
The housekeeper ended up brewing the medicine for me. He hardly asked about it anymore.
I sniffed, feeling the bitterness rising in my chest.
Inside the tent, the shadows of the two of them moved back and forth as they talked. From the looks of it, they were having a nice time.