Chapter 5: A Love That Won’t Let Go

I walked down the mountain, following a path lined with faded prayer flags strung between pine trees.

The wind tugged at my jacket, the scent of pine and woodsmoke sharp in the air. Every step felt like I was leaving something behind.

Without realizing it, I reached the edge of town.

The streets were quieter here, houses spaced out between old barns and fields gone to seed. I paused, unsure where to go next.

A harsh bike bell snapped me out of my daze.

A kid on a mountain bike sped past, straightened up, and waved a newspaper in his hand:

"Extra! Extra! Big news! Mariah’s left the pack for love!"

His voice carried over the rooftops, drawing folks out onto their porches. The news spread like wildfire, everyone craning their necks for details.

The news sent a ripple through the crowd.

Neighbors leaned over fences, kids stopped their games, old-timers shuffled out with their coffee mugs. You could feel the excitement buzzing in the air.

Everyone rushed to the kid:

"Mariah was the elder’s favorite, next in line to lead the pack, and she’s really willing to give up all that for a guy?"

"Damn! Which lucky jerk is it? If I find him, I’ll knock his teeth out!"

"Duke, you’re just jealous, right?"

"That’s Mariah! The purest snow queen in the Rockies! Not just Duke—what guy wouldn’t be jealous? But you think she’d ever do that for me..."

"Get outta here!"

A few local guys up front joked and shoved each other.

Their laughter was rough, but good-natured. It was the kind of teasing that comes from growing up together in a small town.

I got shoved to the edge of the crowd.

I kept my head down, trying to blend in. My heart hammered against my ribs, the world spinning a little too fast.

Listening to their talk, all I could think of was Mariah and Ethan’s hands that morning, locked tight together.

The image burned in my mind, refusing to fade. I tried to shake it off, but it clung to me like smoke.

Left the pack for love?

It had to be for Ethan, right?

In my last life, after I saved her, everyone pressured her to marry me.

In this life, she finally had the chance to marry her true love—of course she wouldn’t wait another minute.

Just as I was about to leave,

I suddenly heard another commotion inside:

"What! Mariah even announced her marriage?"

"Let me see, let me see, who’s the Snow Queen marrying?"

"Logan Carter? Who the heck is that?"

My body went rigid.

It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

I was completely stunned.

The person Mariah wanted to marry—

was me?

No, no way.

I must be imagining things.

All those years chasing Mariah, she’d never once smiled at me.

After we married, whenever I was home, she’d sit by the window all night, never setting foot in our bedroom.

I scrubbed a hand over my face to clear my head.

The sting snapped me back to reality, but the confusion didn’t fade.

I must’ve misheard.

The person Mariah wanted to marry was definitely Ethan.

As for why my name was mentioned?

Probably to shield Ethan, divert everyone’s attention, and calm the anger at the Snow Queen marrying a mortal.

It made sense—at least, it was easier to believe than the alternative.

Having figured this out, I was even less willing to stay.

I quietly slipped away from the noisy crowd.

My boots barely made a sound on the pavement. I kept to the shadows, trying to disappear.

Just as I reached the corner, I suddenly heard a familiar call...

"Logan—"

The voice cut through the noise, sharp and pleading. I froze, every muscle tensed.

I stopped in my tracks.

I looked back in disbelief.

Mariah didn't look composed anymore.

Her coat was askew, her braid undone.

She looked wild, desperate—like she’d run all the way from the mountains just to find me.

But she didn’t care about any of that.

She was out of breath, weaving through her packmates, her wild, hopeful eyes searching every face, only to be disappointed again and again.

"Logan! Where are you?"

Her voice cracked, echoing down the street. People stepped aside, unsure what to do.

I bit my lip, hiding in the shadows.

I saw Mariah’s reddened eyes, stumbling to the end of the long street, nearly begging as she called out:

"I love you! Logan Carter! I love you!"

"Don’t leave me, I’m begging you..."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. I wanted to run to her, to hold her and promise I’d never leave again.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise.

My feet moved forward half a step before I could stop myself.

Just as I was about to step out of the shadows, I snapped back and slapped myself hard!

The pain jolted me back to reality. I couldn’t let myself fall for this—not again.

Logan Carter! Are you crazy!

The one Mariah loves has always been Ethan.

Are you going to repeat the same mistakes?

Just for this little bit of sweetness, are you going to sell yourself short all over again?

I forced myself to go cold and turned away, resolute.

But the next moment:

Hurried footsteps rushed up behind me.

A pair of soft arms wrapped around my waist.

Mariah buried her head in my back, sobbing as she asked:

"Logan, do you not want me anymore?"

Her voice was muffled, her tears soaking through my shirt. I could feel her shaking, every sob tearing at something inside me.

She was the person I knew so well, the one who used to sleep beside me.

This was already our second life together.

But when Mariah hugged me, I still felt a strange sense of awkwardness—a distance that shouldn’t exist between husband and wife.

After all, in my last life, I could count on one hand the number of times we’d been close; I’d barely even held her hand, let alone hugged her.

I cleared my throat and gently pulled away from her embrace.

My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t meet her eyes. The weight of all those lost years pressed down on me.

Before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm tight again, as if afraid I’d disappear at any moment.

She asked again:

"Logan, do you not want me anymore?"

Her voice was raw, pleading, and for the first time, I heard something I’d never expected—fear. Not of the mountains, not of the wolves, but of losing me. And somehow, that made all the difference.

My answer jammed in my throat. Maybe the past wasn't as fixed as I thought.