Cramps and Cheating: A Ski Trip From Hell

The weather is -4 degrees Fahrenheit in Snow Park. The menstrual cramps are too much for me to handle, so I can only crouch beside the snow paths in order to rest.

The new beautiful ski instructor, Sandy Hatfield, who Owen Schultz has hired, skid to a stop all of a sudden. The flurry of ice and snow gets splashed onto my face as a result.

"Oh my, the snow quality here really is amazing! Unlike a certain someone, whose health is weaker than that of an average child…"

Sandy takes off her snow goggles before flipping the bird at me tauntingly.

"A dainty maiden like you should just go home and enjoy the heater. Don't take up precious space on the snow paths!"

Unable to take it anymore, I grab my ski pole and try to strike Sandy with it.

The next thing I know, Owen comes skidding in my direction on his snowboard and quickly shields Sandy from me. In doing so, he knocks me to the icy ground.

He frowns at me, his voice colder than the icy winds.

"Sandy is a professional athlete. What she did is a professional ski move. Can you stop being unreasonable?"

As I slump on the ground, I find myself staring at a pink turtle cushion hanging from Sandy's hip.

That was a cushion I’d sewn for Owen over three sleepless nights before this trip, with a safety charm hidden inside.. Back then, Owen thinks this charm is childish-looking and embarrassing, so he has tossed it into the boot without looking at it.

Sandy follows my line of sight and feels the turtle cushion near her hip. Then, she brushes the snow off the charm with a scowl on her face.

"Owen told me that this is a piece of garbage that's taking up space at home. So, it serves as my cushion now. I don't think even old ladies are prone to making such lame crafts nowadays, right Brooke?"

I lay face down in the snow, my stomach cramping so badly that I couldn't straighten up.

My body hurt, but what cut deeper was the chill in my heart.

Owen Schultz stood protectively in front of Sandy Hatfield, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Brooke Greer, can you stop being such a buzzkill? Sandy was just teaching me how to switch edges, and she got a little carried away. You're the one with a weak body who insisted on coming to the slopes, and now you're here faking an injury and playing the victim. Get up already. Don't embarrass us."

Playing the victim? I bit down on my lip.

I'd worked two extra weeks of overtime just to come to Winterley with him, because he said this trip was to celebrate our third wedding anniversary.

But the moment we got here, he hired Sandy, a pretty private instructor. For three whole days, he left me alone at the hotel while he tore down the advanced trails with her.

That day, I finally pushed through the pain and came out to find him, only to be met with a face full of snow and to be called a buzzkill.

I pointed a trembling finger at the turtle cushion strapped to Sandy's backside.

I said, "Owen, I sewed that protective cushion for you."

Owen was taken aback for a moment, then got even more annoyed.

"So what? That thing's hideous. I'd be embarrassed to wear it. Sandy didn't bring her protective cushion, so I gave it to her. At least it's being used."

Being used.

I had pulled three all-nighters, pricking my fingers on the needle more times than I could count. I had even made a pilgrimage to Mount Cloudview to get a protective charm and sewn it deep inside the turtle's belly.

Yet, in Owen's eyes, the turtle cushion was just an ugly, embarrassing piece of junk he could give away.

Sandy saw right through me. She covered her mouth in exaggerated shock, but her eyes sparkled with smug satisfaction.

"Oh my! So Brooke made this? I'm so sorry, Owen. I had no idea it meant so much to her. Even though the stitching is rough and the stuffing is all lumpy…"

She tugged at the turtle's strap, her expression one of disgust.

"And it's honestly pretty tacky. I should probably give it back to Brooke."

She pretended to unbuckle it.

Owen grabbed her hand immediately

"No way. Once I give something away, I don't take it back. Besides, if you gave it back to her, she'd just throw it in the trash. So, you might as well wear it. At least it'll cushion your falls while you practice snowboarding."

With that, Owen turned to me, his eyes as cold as ice.

"Brooke, if you keep this up, you can head back to the hotel by yourself. Don't mess up Sandy's lesson."

The sight of Owen defending her somehow made the ache in my stomach fade.

When the heart was dead, the body no longer felt pain.

I pushed myself up on my ski poles, staggering to my feet. Then, I brushed the snow from my knees.