The Road Back Buried in Snow

Joanna Cross's fiance, who had supposedly died seven years ago, suddenly came back.

When I went to find her, the two of them were discussing their wedding.

Adrian Shaw pointed at me, standing at the very back of the crowd, and asked, "Jo, who is he?"

Joanna answered without hesitation.

"Our wedding officiant."

I clutched my chest, faintly feeling my heart condition beginning to flare.

Before I could question her, the bodyguards escorted me out of the living room.

Inside, laughter filled the room. Outside, my hands and feet went cold, and the pain nearly tore me apart.

Two hours later, Joanna came out with a smile still on her face.

When she saw the state I was in, she panicked and immediately wrapped me tightly in her coat.

But the words she spoke were colder than ice.

"Adrian has forgotten everything except that I was his fiancee.

"The doctors said any stimulation could make him try to kill himself. The wedding is fake. It is only to make him happy. The person I love has always been you."

I could not hold on anymore and collapsed.

Joanna hurriedly helped me into the car, her voice shaking.

"Mason, don't be scared. The matching heart was prepared long ago. I won't let anything happen to you.

"I will take you to the best hospital right now."

But just as she helped me into the passenger seat, she ran into Adrian, whose eyes were full of tears.

"Jo, are you abandoning me?"

In a single second, Joanna made her choice.

She peeled my fingers away from her one by one, then shut the car door.

After that, Joanna never appeared again. Instead, she sent me a message.

[Your surgery was successful. That's wonderful!]

[Adrian cannot handle any stimulation. Can you disappear for three months? After that, we will spend the rest of our lives together.]

Her promises were so vivid.

But Joanna did not know the surgery had never succeeded.

Three months was too long.

I could not make it that far.

During those days, Joanna Cross, who almost never posted on social media, suddenly began flooding everyone's feed.

In the photos, she and Adrian Shaw appeared in pretty cafes, atmospheric streets, dessert shops, and craft studios.

The woman who was usually quiet and bad at expressing herself wrote captions so emotional they seemed to bleed.

[One hundred things couples must do. We did them before, but baby forgot, so I will do them all with him again. Getting him back is too precious. As long as it is his wish, even if I have to die, I will make it happen for him.]

Those were things I had always wanted to do with Joanna.

But every time I brought them up, she said I was childish. She mocked me for being a grown man who liked such girly nonsense. She said she was busy. Without exception, she turned me down.

So it had never been the activities she hated.

It had been me.

I laughed bitterly at myself as pain tore through my chest.

With trembling hands, I called Joanna. I wanted to ask her a question. It was a cliche question, but I needed to hear the answer from her own mouth.

Before I could dial, Joanna called me first.

She explained calmly, almost objectively.

"The captions and photos were all Adrian's idea. I am only pretending to cooperate for the sake of his condition. Adrian refused to let me block anyone, so I had no choice but to let you see them. I knew it would hurt you. Don't be angry, Mason. I love you. I always have."

She said it was fake.

But the joy in her eyes and the tenderness with which she looked at Adrian were completely real. They could not fool anyone.

The words she kept repeating, that she loved me, sounded cheap instead.

I gasped for air. The machines attached to my body beeped rapidly. Betrayal, fear, and pain tangled around me until I was close to breaking.

Sweat gathered on my forehead and slid down, mixing with the tears at the corners of my eyes.

My voice shook as I said, "Joanna, my heart hurts. It hurts so much."

I thought she would feel sorry for me.

But suspicion arrived before concern.

"How could that be? Didn't you already get the transplant?" Then, as if she had suddenly thought of something, she said firmly, "Mason, stop pretending. This is not the time to be jealous."

For a moment, my breathing stopped.

I tried to defend myself.

"I am not jealous. It really hurts. I am not pretending. Can you come over, please?"

But the only response I heard was Adrian's voice.

"Honey, come here. I can't reach my back in the shower. Help me."

Joanna's footsteps sounded, and the sound of running water gradually became clearer.

I nearly broke down. I pressed a hand over my heart just to keep from dying from the pain.

"Are you really going to help him shower? Is that something a normal man and woman can do? What do you take me for, Joanna?"

Joanna's calm voice carried a hint of irritation.

"It is all just for show. Adrian and I grew up together. We were kids running around naked before we even knew better. I can promise you that even if I help scrub his back, I will feel nothing. Stop being jealous. Be good. Three months has already become eighty-nine days. When it is over, everything will be fine. Just wait for me."

She hung up.

No matter how many times I called, I could not get through again.

Then came a new post.

Adrian's soaked shirt clung to his abs. Joanna's slender hand, nails painted red, had slipped inside his shirt and rested firmly against his chest.

The caption read:

[Good boy. He really feels nice.]

My breath caught in my throat. I coughed and could not stop. Half a minute later, my throat filled with the taste of blood, and I sprayed a mouthful onto the white sheets, staining them red.

With trembling hands, I tried to touch the stain, but everything before my eyes blurred more and more.

In the end, I passed out.