Elia POV:

I woke to the sterile scent of a hospital room, the soft glow of the monitor a stark contrast to the darkness that had consumed me. Christian sat beside my bed, his face haggard, his eyes bloodshot. He pleaded, he begged, he provided carefully curated evidence of Gidget's alleged drugging, of his own innocence. He swore he hadn't touched her, that it was a terrible accident, a misunderstanding. He pleaded with me to believe him, to forgive him.

I wanted to. Desperately. I wanted to believe the man I loved, the man who had always been my protector. I tried to convince myself it was a cruel trick of fate, an unfortunate mistake. I yearned to put it behind us, to salvage the shattered remnants of our life together.

Just as our fragile peace began to mend, a notification pinged on my phone. Gidget. Always Gidget. She had posted a picture. A candid shot of her, laughing, nestled against a man whose face was turned away. But I recognized the familiar curve of his jaw, the dark hair, and more importantly, the discreet silver ring on his outstretched hand. The ring I had given Christian, a cherished anniversary gift.

My blood roared in my ears. The blurry memory of Christian's rushed, almost dismissive text message about an urgent business trip, just days before, came flooding back. He hadn't been on a business trip. He had been with her. With Gidget.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. He hadn't stopped seeing her. He had lied. Again. My vision tunneled.

I stumbled out of the apartment, a frantic urgency propelling me forward. I had to see, had to know. The night was a blur of taxi rides and flashing city lights. It was almost midnight when I arrived, the sky above a symphony of bursting fireworks, a cruel, mocking celebration of something I couldn't comprehend.

And then I saw them. Christian and Gidget. Standing on a balcony, wrapped in each other's arms, silhouetted against the exploding colors. He held her close, his head bent to hers.

"Is it a boy or a girl, darling?" Gidget' s voice, clear and bright, drifted across the distance. "Has our baby already celebrated its first New Year with us?"

The words were a physical assault. Our baby. My ears roared, a deafening white noise that drowned out everything. I couldn't process it. My body moved before my mind, a primal scream tearing from my throat.

I lunged forward, my hand connecting with Christian' s face, a sharp, stinging slap. Then I grabbed Gidget's hair, my fingers tangling in the silken strands. "You lied!" I shrieked, my voice cracking. "You swore it was an accident! You swore you were innocent!"

Christian reacted instantly, pulling Gidget protectively into his arms, shielding her from me. His eyes, usually so gentle, were blazing with a cold fury I had never seen directed at me. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging into my flesh, a searing pain blooming up my arm.

"What is wrong with you, Elia?" he snarled, his voice a low growl. "Are you insane? She's pregnant!"

The world tilted again. Pregnant. My sister. With his child. Tears streamed down my face, hot and furious. "Pregnant?" I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "With your child? Who am I, Christian? Who am I to you?"

Elia POV:

Christian released my wrist, as if waking from a trance, but his arm remained protectively around Gidget. Her head was still buried in his shoulder, her body trembling with fabricated sobs. He looked at me, his eyes pleading, yet unwavering in his defense of her.

"Elia, please, calm down," he said, his voice strained. "It was... an accident. That night, when she was drugged. It happened." He looked away for a moment, then back at me, his gaze heavy with what I now recognize as guilt. "She's pregnant with my child."

He rushed on, as if trying to outrun the truth. "The doctors said she has a very rare condition. If she doesn't carry this baby to term, she might never be able to conceive again. She was scared, Elia. She came to me because she had nowhere else to go. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry, to overthink things."

Gidget lifted her head, her face tear-streaked, but her eyes, I noticed, were dry. She began her practiced performance. "My parents... they want me to get rid of it," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Elia, please, just let me stay here. Just until the baby is born. I won't bother you, I promise. I just want my baby."

My head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache. A sharp, almost violent rage ignited within me. "You're lying, Gidget!" I snapped, my voice shaking. "You told me you couldn't get pregnant! You said that years ago after that car accident! You said your doctor told you it was impossible!"

"Go to a hospital, Gidget! Get a second opinion!" I challenged, my voice rising. "Let's see if your 'rare condition' is just another one of your convenient lies!"

Gidget' s eyes welled up again, perfectly timed. "Elia, why are you always so extreme? Why do you always think I'm trying to ruin your life? I just want a child!"

Christian's face, which had been a canvas of conflicted emotions, hardened. His jaw clenched, his eyes turning cold. "You shouldn't talk to her like that, Elia." His voice was low, dangerous. "She's already been through so much. I... I owe her. I'm sorry for what I did to her."

He looked at me with an expression I had never seen before-disappointment, disapproval. "You're being unreasonable, Elia. You're being cold-hearted."

His words hit me like a physical blow. The Christian from my past, the one who had always protected me, who had always seen through Gidget's lies, fractured and reformed into this stranger. His youthful face, once filled with such warmth and tenderness, now stared at me with an icy indifference that chilled me to the bone.

Elia POV:

I remembered that New Year' s Eve, when I was seventeen. I had finally gotten a few days off from the design academy, a rare luxury. I had hurried home, a small, carefully wrapped gift clutched in my frozen hands, my heart full of hope. I pressed my thumb to the fingerprint lock on our front door, once, twice, three times. The red light flashed, denying me entry. Error.

I called my father, the phone pressed against my numb ear. Laughter, Gidget's high-pitched giggle, spilled from the background. He sounded distant, irritated. "What do you want, Elia? We' re out. Skiing. With Gidget."

"Go back to your dorm," he' d snapped, before the line went dead. The dial tone buzzed in my ear, a prolonged, painful sting.

I don' t know how long I stood there, lost in the gathering dusk. The night had swallowed the last vestiges of daylight, leaving me in darkness. My fingers were numb, stiff with cold. The wrapping paper on my gift rustled in the biting wind.

Then, a beam of light sliced through the darkness. Christian's car. He practically leaped out, his breath pluming in white clouds. His eyes, sharp and concerned, immediately fell on the crushed, melting gift box at my feet.

"Elia!" he cursed, his voice tight. He grabbed my hands, chafing them between his, then pulled them against his chest, warming them, giving them life. "Why didn't you call me? Why did you just stay out here?"

My lips trembled, but no sound came out. He took out his earbuds, offering one to me. "Here," he said, his voice gentle. "Listen to this." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His face, framed by the pale glow of the streetlamp, was breathtakingly handsome. "Don't cry," he whispered. "Happy New Year, Elia. I promise, I'll always be the first one to say it."

He pulled me closer, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "I'll take you away from all of this, Elia. Somewhere far away, where no one can hurt you, where there's no prejudice. And every year, I'll be the first to tell you 'Happy New Year'."

It was the first time I had ever seen a flicker of light in my endlessly gray life. The song swelled through the tiny earbud, a folk melody about enduring love. No matter what the world may say, my darling, I'll still whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

A tear, hot and heavy, splashed onto his hand. My heart, frozen and guarded for so long, began to beat with a wild, desperate hope.

Now, a decade later, Christian stood with Gidget in his arms, his eyes burning with accusation. "You're cold-blooded, Elia," he'd snarled.

The memory was a gaping wound.