The Man Lost In the Snow

The next half month passed in a blur. I buried myself in work, taking on the full project for the “Fragments” series. Day and night blurred together as I worked nonstop, trying to numb everything with exhaustion.

Until one day, Peter Sullivan tossed an invitation onto my desk. Peter was my childhood friend. After Ethan disappeared, he had been the one staying by my side all along.

“Go get some air,” he said, looking at me with quiet concern. “It’s a charity gala. Plenty of collectors will be there. It could help with your designs.”

I rubbed my aching temples. “No. I’m not in the mood.”

“I heard one of Ethan’s paintings will be auctioned tonight,” Peter added casually, like he was dropping bait. “It’s called ‘Years in the Mountains.’ Starting bid is five hundred thousand dollars.”

My hand paused mid-motion.

“Five hundred thousand dollars?” I sneered. “Back then, his paintings couldn’t even sell for five thousand dollars.”

“That was before. Now he’s the genius painter who came back from the dead, with that whole tragic mountain love story attached. Of course, his value’s gone up.”

I stared at the invitation, lost in thought for a long moment. In the end, I decided to go.

The night of the charity gala, I wore a black backless gown and walked in on Peter’s arm. Not far away, Ethan and Jane stood surrounded by a crowd. Ethan was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, while Jane clung to his arm, timid and innocent.

I froze. The dress Jane was wearing was mine. It was a custom-made gown I had commissioned three years ago for my engagement party. Because it was bespoke, there was a small, hidden lily embroidered along the neckline. Now, that same lily rested against Jane’s collarbone, slightly warped under the weight of her necklace. To think Ethan had given it to her to wear!

I turned sharply toward Timothy. He avoided my gaze, guilt written all over his face. Back then, he had taken the dress from my house, saying he was afraid I’d only hurt myself more by keeping it.

When Ethan noticed Peter and me, his eyes lingered for a few seconds on our linked arms. Something dark flickered in his gaze.

“Who is that?” he asked Timothy.

Timothy glanced at me, then replied awkwardly in a low voice, “That’s Peter. He’s the son of the Sullivan family… and Lexie’s childhood friend.”

Ethan pressed his lips together but said nothing.

At that moment, Jane spotted me. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately pulled Ethan over.

“Ms. William!”

Her bright voice drew attention from everyone nearby.

“You’re here too? Timothy said this was an old dress you didn’t want anymore, so Ethan let me wear it. He said it looks really good on me. Don’t you think so, too?”

I looked at Ethan, who looked away. Instinctively, he tried to pull Jane behind him, but she shook him off.

Then, she stepped closer to me and whispered right into my ear, “The fabric’s nice. It’s a shame it used to belong to you—bad luck, you know? But Ethan insisted I wear it. He said I look great in it.”

There was a sweet smile on her face, but every word she spoke was vicious. Gone was the innocent, timid girl she usually pretended to be.

Jane blinked, her expression turning harmless again, and said loudly, “Ms. William, honestly, after seeing you at the gallery that day, I think I understand your past with Ethan. But you were both young back then. It’s easy to confuse gratitude with love. Now I’m the person Etham. Ms. William, could you just let us be?”

Whispers spread through the crowd.

“What kind of complicated love triangle is this?”

“They weren’t even married. Trying to break them up now would be pretty shameless, wouldn’t it?”

Ethan’s expression darkened as he grabbed Jane’s arm. “Jane, that’s enough.”

“Why can’t I say it?” Jane pouted, looking wronged. “Ethan, are you afraid it’ll upset Ms. William? But if you don’t love her anymore, shouldn’t you make it clear?”

Then, she turned to me, her gaze openly provocative.

“Ms. William, did you know Ethan has this really cute little habit? Every time we’re in an elevator or taking a walk at night, he taps the back of my hand three times for no reason. He says it’s his secret way of telling me he loves me. Ms. William, did he ever do that with you, too?”

In that instant, the blood in my body turned ice-cold.