Kian wandered the mountains until he came upon a small cottage, half-buried in snow, its silence suggesting it had long been abandoned. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A faint scent of banana nut pudding lingered in the air.
His favorite.
His heart stuttered.
Moving slowly through the narrow halls, he noticed one door ajar. Light spilled softly from within. He stepped inside, and froze.
She sat on the edge of the bed, alone, gazing out the window as snow drifted down in quiet surrender.
"Wanda?" he whispered. "Is that you?"
His voice broke. He swallowed the tear and sat beside her.
"I won't ask how you're here, or why," he said softly. "I'm just… I'm so glad to see you again."
Every instinct screamed for him to pull her into his arms, but he restrained himself.
"I have so much to tell you," he continued. "I've seen so many things on my travels, some beautiful, some unbearable. But I realized something far too late… none of it meant anything without you beside me. I was too far gone to turn back, so I kept going. Hoping we'd cross paths again one day."
He smiled faintly.
"And it seems my prayers were answered."
She didn't move. Didn't blink. Her eyes remained fixed on the falling snow.
"Wanda?" he asked gently. "How have you been? What have you experienced all these years? Did you see anything interesting?"
She raised a finger and pressed it lightly against his lips.
"Sshhh," she murmured. "The snow is pretty, no?"
Kian followed her gaze, then answered just as softly.
"Not as beautiful as you, my love."
He reached for her hand and held it tightly. His skin was numb from the cold, yet the moment he touched her, warmth flooded him.
"Your hand is cold," she said plainly.
"It is," he replied. "That's why I'm seeking your warmth."
"So you intend to leech off me?" she teased faintly.
"If you would allow me to."
She slipped her hand free.
"I need to check on my pudding."
She moved toward the kitchen. He followed.
"You made my favorite," he said, watching her closely. "I see you haven't forgotten about me."
"True," she said quietly. "I haven't forgotten you all these years…"
Her left hand shifted unconsciously, fingers brushing her ring finger.
His breath caught.
"So," he said carefully. "You found love?"
"More or less."
"What does that mean?" His voice tightened. "Do you love him?"
She turned to him, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"That doesn't matter. I made a promise. We made a promise, to stay together for eternity. That's what marriage is."
Kian cupped her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
"But what is marriage without happiness?" he asked. "Can't you see you're staying out of duty, not love?"
"That may be true," she said, voice trembling, "but loyalty means staying, through the beautiful and the ugly."
He let his hands fall.
"That's not loyalty," he said. "That's suffering dressed up as virtue. Did you become a pessimist while I was gone?"
"No," she replied. "You left. My father had me marry him. At first, I believed we would be okay."
He stayed silent, letting her speak.
"But I wasn't ready," she continued. "Not for marriage. I wanted someone who loved me for who I was. Someone who would care for me, even without vows."
"I'm sorry," Kian whispered. "That I wasn't there. But I am now."
She looked at him fully then.
"This is taboo."
"Maybe," he said. "But if you're unhappy, come with me. Join me on my travels. Let's live a life worth living."
He took her hand, pulling her close.
"Let's be together, for eternity."
They ran from the cottage into the blinding white, fingers interlocked as their silhouettes faded into the snowfall.
"I… love… you."
Kian jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
Birdsong filled the room. Wind brushed against his bare back, the
window still open.
"It was all a dream…"
A tear slid down his cheek.
"I should've never waited so long."