Before the Snow Fell, Love Had Fled

The night before my wedding, I was scrolling through my phone in the hospital when a post with thousands of likes caught my eye. [The boyfriend I stole is getting married, but I’m not the bride.] Every word dripped with smug satisfaction. [So what if I’m the other woman? His body, his heart, his money… aren’t they all mine?] [It only took a little trick to destroy their relationship. He never loved the bride. He’s only marrying her for revenge!] The comment section was a firestorm of outrage and condemnation. Some morbid curiosity I couldn’t explain made me click on her profile. My fingers froze. The “stolen boyfriend” she was gloating about was Andrew Harrison. The man I was supposed to marry tomorrow. My mother’s hand, as fragile as dried leaves, gripped mine. Her voice trembled. “Don’t throw your life away for me, Amelia…” I looked at her pale, worn-out face and shook my head. “Marrying him or marrying a stranger—what’s the difference?” At least he had money. Enough to pay for my mother’s astronomical medical bills. Twelve years of us had become nothing more than a slow accumulation of disappointment. There was no love left. From now on, when I looked at him, I would feel nothing at all.

1 At the wedding, I was a puppet on a string, moving through the ceremony as the officiant dictated. Then came the exchange of rings. A shrill female voice cut through the reverent hush. “Wait!” Sienna strutted forward, linking her arm with Andrew’s. She pouted, her voice a saccharine whine. “Andrew, darling, I want to be your bride. Right now. Please?” Her gaze, dripping with challenge, flicked over to me. Andrew’s face was a blank mask as he looked at me. His voice was cold, leaving no room for argument. “It’s just a ceremony. Give it to her.” The eyes of every guest in the room pricked my skin like a thousand tiny needles. My hands clenched the fabric of my wedding dress, knuckles turning white. I pressed my lips together, a silent, stubborn refusal. It was the only shred of dignity I had left to defend. With his permission, Sienna reached out to rip the dress from my body. I shoved her back on instinct. She stumbled and collapsed to the floor, her shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs. “Andrew, look at her…” Andrew rushed to her side, helping her up with a tenderness that twisted my gut. He turned to me, his voice a furious snarl. “I’ll only say this once. Take it off yourself, or my security will do it for you.” I looked up, about to beg him to leave me with some semblance of pride. But the raw disgust in his eyes silenced me. The words died in my throat. Before I could process it, the guards were on me, tearing the delicate lace of my gown from my body. I was left in my slip, a flimsy piece of silk that did nothing to ward off the bone-deep chill that had settled over me. A collective gasp went through the crowd, but no one dared to speak. I curled into a ball in the corner, hugging my trembling body. I watched, numb, as Andrew slid the wedding ring onto Sienna’s finger. When the ceremony was finally over, Andrew scowled and tossed his suit jacket at me. “Cover yourself up. You’re an embarrassment.” Sienna clung to his arm, her voice sickly sweet. “Andrew, we haven’t had our wedding night yet…” Her eyes glinted with malice. “Once you’re married, it’ll be so much harder for us to see each other.” “Why don’t we have her record it for us? As a little memento. What do you say?” A tremor went through me. I reached out and tugged lightly on the corner of his sleeve, my voice barely a whisper. “Can… can I not?” He ripped his arm away, his laugh a cold, cruel sound. “Know your place, Amelia. You think you have the right to refuse?” “Your father killed my mother. You’ll be paying for his sins for the rest of your life. And this is just the beginning.” “Unless,” he added, his voice dropping to a dangerous low, “you’ve decided you don’t care if your mother lives or dies.” My body went rigid. I followed them, my feet moving on their own. In front of the camera, bodies tangled in a display of raw, performative lust. My hand, holding the phone, wouldn’t stop shaking. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I gripped the edge of a table, trying to stifle the dry heaves. Sienna heard me. She glared over Andrew’s shoulder, her voice sharp with annoyance. “Ugh, what’s wrong with your wife? She’s ruining the mood.” Andrew grabbed a pillow and hurled it at my head. “You can’t do one simple thing right? Get the hell out!” I dropped the phone and fled, practically tripping over my own feet. It wasn’t until I slammed the front door of our empty house behind me that the tension finally left my body. Then, a sudden thought struck me. My hands trembling, I pulled up my latest medical report on my phone. Unsurprisingly, I was pregnant. I placed a hand gently over my stomach. The grief I had been bottling up for so long suddenly burst forth. Tears streamed down my face, splashing onto the back of my hand. I grabbed a bottle of red wine and started chugging it straight from the bottle. It didn’t matter. No one cared about this child anyway. I sank into a hot bath, drinking and crying until my throat was raw and the world began to blur, a hazy mix of alcohol and steam. In the fog, I thought I saw Andrew’s face, etched with panic. He was lifting my soaked body from the water, his voice shaking. “Amelia! Are you insane?! You’re burning up and you’re drinking in a hot bath!”

2 A strange warmth spread from the chest pressed against mine, and I found myself leaning into it. When I opened my eyes again, Andrew was asleep in a chair by the bed, his head resting on the edge of the mattress. My fingers twitched, almost reaching out to trace the line of his jaw. But a familiar ringtone, Sienna’s ringtone, shattered the silence. I snatched my hand back. He woke instantly, rubbing his temples as he answered the phone. “Take care of her. I’m on my way.” When he hung up, his face was a mask of pure anxiety. It was only then that he seemed to notice I was awake. He shot me a look of pure contempt. “Don’t think playing the victim is going to make me give a damn about you. Stop with the pathetic games.” He didn’t spare me another glance. He grabbed his coat and was gone. A few minutes later, my phone rang. An unknown number. The voice on the other end was frantic, choked with tears. “Mrs. Harrison! Something’s happened to Andrew! You have to come to the Obsidian Lounge, now!” My heart plummeted. Andrew, always so cool and in control—what could have possibly happened to him? A thousand terrible scenarios flashed through my mind in the span of a few seconds. The moment I hung up, I had ripped the IV from my arm and was running out of the hospital. I was frantic, urging the cab driver to go faster, to break every speed limit. I stumbled on the curb, scraping my knee, blood seeping through my pants. I burst through the door of the private room at the lounge, panting for breath, only to be met with the sight of Andrew and Sienna locked in a passionate kiss. The room erupted with laughter. “Sienna, you were right! She got here before you even finished! What a pathetic lapdog!” My head was spinning. The world went blank. I couldn’t tell which hurt more—the throbbing in my knee or the gaping emptiness in my chest. My expression turned to ice, but no one noticed. No one cared. Andrew’s eyes flickered to the blood on my knee. He made a sound of annoyance, a sharp “Tsk.” Sienna snuggled against his chest, smirking at me. “Look who it is. The rapist’s daughter, finally showing up.” That one sentence shattered my last ounce of control. I lunged forward and slapped her across the face, my voice a raw scream. “My father is not a rapist!” Andrew shoved me, hard. I fell to the floor, the impact jarring my bones. The fury in his eyes was staggering. I remembered a time when those same eyes had been filled with nothing but my reflection. He was the new kid in our senior year of high school. I fell for him instantly. When the other kids called him a “bastard,” I was always the first to jump to his defense. “He is not! He’s the best person in the world!” I’d turn around and see his eyes, red-rimmed and vulnerable, before he’d quickly look away. We fell into a rhythm. I protected him at school; he walked me home after. Until the day a group of thugs cornered us, their hands grabbing at me. He didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at them, but they overpowered him, pinning him to the ground and beating him mercilessly. I held up my phone and screamed, “I’ve already called the police!” They scattered. That night, we got together. He swore to me, his eyes still red, “I’ll get stronger. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” And he did. He clawed his way up from being the illegitimate son to the CEO of Harrison Holdings. He took the hardest road imaginable. But on the very day he took control of the company, his mother fell from the balcony of their home and died. And my father was found sitting, catatonic, amidst the wreckage. My father pleaded his innocence. “It wasn’t me… I swear I didn’t do anything…” But Andrew was convinced he was the murderer. He branded my father a rapist and used every tool at his disposal to send him to prison. “Apologize!” Andrew’s roar brought me back to the present. “Why should I?” I sobbed, my heart breaking all over again. His face was devoid of emotion as he pulled up a live feed from the hospital on his phone. “Have you forgotten about your mother?”

3 The sight of my mother’s frail form on the monitor made my heart leap into my throat. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, then scrambled forward, grabbing Andrew’s wrist. “Don’t touch her… please.” His voice was colder than ice. “You know what you have to do.” A shiver wracked my body. I slowly let go of his arm, stood up, and bowed to Sienna. A full ninety-degree bow. “I’m sorry.” Sienna crossed her arms, a smirk playing on her lips. “That didn’t seem very sincere, Amelia.” I looked at Andrew’s stony expression and understood immediately. I raised my hand and slapped myself across the face. Hard. Ten times. Each slap was louder, sharper than the last. When I was done, I lifted my swollen, red face and looked at Andrew, my voice devoid of emotion. “Is that enough?” His eyes flickered to the blood trickling from the corner of my lip. For a split second, I saw a flash of pain in his gaze, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Stop with the pathetic act, Amelia. It’s disgusting.” Sienna, ever perceptive, noticed his momentary weakness. She grabbed a row of liquor bottles from the floor and slammed them on the table, her smile malicious. “Drink every last one of these, and we’ll call it even.” Eight bottles of hard liquor gleamed under the dim lights. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. I clenched my jaw, picked up a bottle, and began to drink. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, a searing pain that felt like it was scorching my insides. Liquid sloshed down my chin, soaking the front of my shirt, making the fabric cling to my skin. The men in the room started whistling and cheering. “Whoa, look at that body!” “If you’re not interested, Andrew, why not share her with the rest of us?” They were practically rubbing their hands together, their leering eyes crawling all over me. A man with bleached blond hair grabbed my wrist just as I finished the first bottle. I was gasping for breath, the burn in my stomach rising to my chest, making it hard to breathe. “That’s enough!” Andrew roared, flipping the table over with a sudden, violent motion. Glass shattered, and amber liquid spread across the floor like a pool of tears. The room went silent. You could hear a pin drop. I looked into his eyes, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions, then down at the mess on the floor. A numb smile touched my lips. “Well, since the alcohol is gone, I suppose I can leave now?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned and walked out. The second I stepped outside the lounge, a hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back. “Have you no self-respect, Amelia?!” Andrew’s chest was heaving, a vein throbbing in his temple. “They treated you like that, and you didn’t even fight back?!” I tilted my head back, a cold, bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Fight back? And then what? Earn myself an even worse beating?” His lips parted, as if to say something, but he was cut off by a frantic shout from behind him. “Andrew, it’s Sienna! She slit her wrists!” He let go of me without a second thought and sprinted back inside. He didn’t look back. He didn’t see the cold sweat beading on my forehead. A tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. I leaned against the wall, trying to stay upright, but the world was fading to black. I slid to the ground. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. A nurse told me a passerby had brought me in. I wanted to thank them, but they were long gone. Just then, the hospital phone rang. “We’re very sorry to inform you that your mother… passed away five minutes ago.” “How…” My voice shattered. There was a pause on the other end. “The patient removed her own breathing tube. We… we did everything we could.” I didn’t understand. My mother had been fighting so hard. Why would she suddenly give up? Until I pulled up the security footage from her room. Ten minutes before she pulled the tube, a figure had pushed open her door.