Chapter 5: The Truth in the Snow

Emily was angry.

She left for work the next morning without a word.

In my memory, she’s rarely angry.

Six years ago, we met at a charity event. Her calm, graceful presence on stage caught my eye. The crowd’s applause echoed in the high school gym, and she stood in the spotlight, composed and bright.

I started pursuing her passionately. Left little notes in her mailbox, sent flowers to her office. Did all the old-fashioned things you see in rom-coms.

The more I got to know her, the more surprises I found.

She and her mom depended on each other. Even with a tough background, she took good care of herself.

Optimistic, open-minded, tolerant, content with little.

Most of the time, she was happy.

Life’s setbacks, in her eyes, were just “the little monsters you have to beat before leveling up.”

Twisted her ankle? She’d comfort herself: “Guess it’s the universe telling me to rest. Gotta listen to the old man upstairs.”

Her purse got stolen? She’d laugh, “Finally have an excuse to buy a new one.”

I grew up in a stifling family. Even after some career success, I always lived tightly wound.

But after being with her, I learned to relax.

Learned to appreciate a flower, watch the clouds drift by.

Learned to truly accept myself.

I bought a big bouquet of flowers and went to pick her up from work, making her coworkers giggle. It felt like something out of a rom-com, standing there in the lobby with lilies in hand, everyone sneaking glances and whispering.

She saw me, walked over, pursed her lips, and said nothing.

I smacked my forehead. “It’s my big mouth—serves me right. Honey, want to hit me too?”

She didn’t move.

I made a show of kneeling, and she quickly pulled me up.

She giggled. “Alright, I’ll let it go this time.”

I grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t really stay mad.”

She paused for a second, looked at me seriously, and said, “Babe, just this once. Don’t do it again.”

I nodded like crazy, and she smiled again.

It blew over quickly.

Everything went back to normal.

A few days later, a heavy snowstorm hit the city, the temperature dropped, and my sore throat flared up again.

Emily happily told me she’d managed to get an appointment with an old doctor, famous for treating stubborn throat problems. She’d pick up the medicine the next day.

She said it was a bit far and asked if I had time to drive her.

I hesitated.

Rachel’s son, Danny, had sprained his leg playing in the snow. With the bad weather, I’d been driving them to and from school.

“If you’re busy, don’t worry about it. I’ll just take an Uber,” Emily said casually.

I nodded. “Alright, I have an important meeting tomorrow. I’ll be busy all day.”

The next day.

I picked up Rachel and Danny. She said she wanted to go to a private clinic for therapy.

Snow was falling again.

I drove to the clinic and saw a long line outside the small building.

After parking, just as I was about to get out, I spotted Emily at the end of the line.

She was bundled up, shrinking her neck and blowing on her hands, a thin layer of snow on her head and shoulders—she must’ve been standing there a while. Her gloves were mismatched—one red, one gray—probably grabbed in a hurry.

Rachel was stunned, whispering, “Why is she here?”

I frowned, looking behind me.

The alley was narrow—I couldn’t turn around quickly.

“Don’t get out yet.” I thought for a moment. “If you open or close the door, she’ll easily spot my car. Wait till she goes inside.”

Rachel bit her lip and stayed quiet.

After a while, she spoke softly.

“I’m just bringing my son to see a doctor, so why does it feel so sneaky?”

I didn’t reply. I just sat there in the warm car, quietly watching Emily shiver in the wind.

She’s always been afraid of the cold.

She probably had forty minutes left to wait.

Inside the car, the windows fogged up with our breath, the heater blasting, while outside, Emily stood shivering in the wind, her hair dusted white with snow.

After half an hour, Rachel couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up.

“If we wait any longer, we’ll miss our turn.”

With that, she suddenly opened the door, picked up Danny, and got out.

Bang.

The door shut.

Emily instinctively turned her head, looking this way.

Her gaze first landed on Rachel, then slowly shifted to my car.

A flicker of confusion crossed her face, red from the cold.

And then, through the windshield, she and I—

just looked at each other.

The snowfall thickened, the world hushed in white. For a second, it felt like the whole city was holding its breath. And for one frozen moment, I knew nothing I said could melt the ice between us.