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.

Elia POV:

After that horrific confrontation, I fled. I accepted an overseas design collaboration, packed my bags in a frantic rush, and left the country faster than I thought possible. For three months, I ignored Christian's calls, his texts, unable to reconcile the man who had promised to protect me with the stranger who had condemned me.

How could he change so much? How could he believe her over me, again? The questions echoed in my mind, an incessant, painful refrain.

His messages piled up on my phone. Elia, please. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. I know I messed up. I've been loving you since we were kids. I thought we were meant to be. I'm not perfect, Elia, I make mistakes. Are you really going to throw away our future over one mistake?

His best friend, Daniel, even messaged me. Look, Christian messed up, yeah. But you know his heart. He's just trying to do the right thing by Gidget and the baby. Don't be so harsh, Elia. Don't throw away a lifetime of love for one wrong turn. And what if Gidget can't have another baby? What if you force her to abort, and she resents you forever? Christian is just trying to be kind.

Was I being too harsh? Too unforgiving? I missed Christian. I missed our conversations, our easy camaraderie. I missed him. The man who had been my everything.

I packed my bags again, a faint hope flickering in my chest. On the long flight home, I practiced smiling in the mirror, rehearsing a composure I didn't feel. I wanted to fix things. I wanted us back.

I unlocked the door to our apartment, the silence inside deafening. He wasn't home. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. I went to the car to grab my spare keys, pulling the passenger door open.

A wave of Gidget's sickly sweet perfume assaulted my senses. My personal items were gone, replaced by a half-empty box of prenatal vitamins, a pregnancy pillow, and a baby blanket.

Was she living here? In our apartment? While I was gone? The anger, cold and sharp, flooded back, erasing all my rehearsed smiles.

I found them at the hospital, after frantic calls to his office and every local emergency room. Christian was sitting in the waiting room, his leg bandaged, Gidget hovering over him, fussing. My heart leaped into my throat.

"Christian! What happened? Are you okay?" I rushed to his side.

Gidget, seeing me, froze for a split second, then quickly composed herself, her face crumpling into a mask of tearful remorse. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach. "Elia!" she gasped, her voice trembling. "It's all my fault! You ran away, and Christian was so worried about you, he was distracted while driving. He got into an accident!"

She turned to Christian, her voice a dramatic whisper. "It's all my fault, darling. Please, don't be mad at Elia. She was just so stressed."

Christian looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, his gaze filled with a familiar disappointment. He said nothing.

I looked at his bandaged leg, at Gidget's performative tears, at his silent accusation. The anger drained out of me, replaced by a hollow ache. I nodded, defeated. "Okay," I whispered. "I'll stay."