The snow fell like a silent requiem, each flake a whisper from the heavens, too gentle for the tragedy it witnessed.
He stumbled through the forest, his breath ragged, his coat torn at the sleeve, heart pounding louder than his footsteps. The world was a blur of white and red—white snow, red blood. A trail of crimson marked the ground like a cruel breadcrumb path.
And there she was.
Collapsed in the snow, her body limp, her white dress stained with scarlet. Her long black hair fanned around her like a shattered halo, strands clinging to her blood-speckled cheeks.
"No..." His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside her. "No, no, no—please no."
Her eyes fluttered open weakly at the sound of his voice. Pain was etched across her delicate features, but even now, even like this... she looked at him like he was her entire world. Like he hadn't spent months being cold to her.
His fingers shook as he brushed the hair from her face. Her skin was ice. Her lips, usually so soft and warm, were now pale, trembling with the weight of her final breaths.
He pulled her into his arms, cradling her as if that would stop time.
"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Please… stay."
She looked up at him, blood staining her lips. Her breathing was shallow, broken. With all her strength, she raised one trembling hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it like a starving man.
"I… love…" she whispered, the last syllable lost in the cold wind.
"You what?" His voice rose with panic. "You love me? Please—finish it. Say it."
But her eyes were already losing their light. Her hand fell from his cheek, her lips slightly parted, as though trying to speak a word that never came.
"No," he breathed. "No—don't you dare. Don't you dare leave me."
He clutched her tighter against him, burying his face into her hair, inhaling the faint scent of lavender and winter.
"I didn't mean it," he sobbed. "Any of it. All the things I said—how I ignored you, hated you… I didn't mean any of it."
But the truth was—he had meant it.
He had despised her for being forced into his life. For being the girl he had to marry because of some ancient promise—because her mother had once saved his grandfather. A lifetime of obligation tied him to a girl he never wanted.
So he punished her. With silence. With distance. With cruelty.
And yet… she had never stopped loving him.
She made his coffee every morning, even when he never said thank you. Waited up every night, even when he came home late smelling like whiskey and regret. She smiled through his indifference, held his hand when no one else was looking, and whispered goodnight to him through the closed bedroom door.
And he gave her nothing.
No warmth. No kindness. No chance.
And now…
"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry."
The snowflakes landed on her lashes. He reached up and gently brushed them away, but she didn't blink.
"Come back," he begged. "Please. Yell at me. Slap me. Hate me for once. But don't… don't go."
The cold wind bit through his coat, but he couldn't feel it. All he felt was the absence of her heartbeat against his chest.
He remembered their wedding day—the way she looked in her ivory dress, eyes filled with hope. He hadn't even looked at her as they stood at the altar. He hadn't kissed her properly when the officiant pronounced them husband and wife.
And yet, that night, she'd told him, "Even if you never love me, I will always love you."
He had scoffed. Walked away. Slept on the couch.
But now…
Now he would trade the rest of his life for one more minute with her.
He kissed her forehead. Her cheek. Finally, her lips—cold and still, but he kissed them anyway. This time not out of duty or guilt. But love.
Pure, aching, all-consuming love.
The love he didn't know he had until it was far too late.
Her blood seeped into the snow beneath them, a vivid crimson pool stealing her away second by second. He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
He whispered her name like a prayer, again and again, as if it might bring her back.
"I never told you… but I loved you too," he choked out. "I just didn't know it until I saw your eyes closing for the last time."
Everything inside him fractured.
How many times had he passed her in the hallway without a glance? How many tears had she cried in silence while he pretended she didn't exist?
"I thought you were a burden," he whispered, his voice raw. "But you were the only light I had. And I let it go out."
A sound broke through the trees—a distant cry, someone calling for him. But he didn't answer. Couldn't.
He wasn't ready to let go.
He wasn't ready to leave her in the cold.
He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses brushing, tears spilling freely from his eyes.
"I'll never forgive myself," he whispered. "Not for this. Not for all the ways I failed you."
She deserved more than him. She always had.
The girl who had been given to him like a debt to be repaid… had repaid him with unconditional love. And he had crushed it beneath his pride.
The snow continued to fall. The world around them silent and still. A cruel kind of peace.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, cradling her lifeless body, whispering things he should have said when it mattered.
He only knew this:
He would never be the same again.
Because the girl he never wanted… was the only one he could never live without.
And now she was gone.
Gone with the last breath she spent trying to say she loved him.
Gone with all the words he had been too much of a coward to say.
Gone… but forever etched into the shattered remains of his heart.