Cold Spring at Year’s End, Love Fades Forever

Nine months pregnant, right before New Year's, and Ryan Nelson insisted on dragging me back to his adopted sister's hometown again.

Getting there meant taking a high-speed train, transferring to a bus, then another local bus, and finally bouncing along in a three-wheeler up a steep mountain road.

Watching him methodically pack our bags, I pressed my hand over his.

"I'm due any day now. Can we skip this year?"

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What? Jealous again?"

"Lucy never had it rough growing up. I'm her brother—I need to check on how that family's treating her."

"You know how she is. She'd never complain even if they were making her miserable."

Right. So every time I mentioned my morning sickness, my cramps, my swollen ankles, it all sounded like whining to him.

Fine. If that's how he saw it, I'd give him a front-row seat to who was really playing the victim here.

I turned away and invited the person Ryan blamed for all of Lucy's suffering—the real daughter of the Nelson family, Faye Nelson—to join us on this little family trip.

01

At the transfer station, Faye arrived about five minutes before us.

In those five minutes, Lucy Brown had somehow transformed into a trembling, tearful mess cowering in the corner, as if Faye had just torn her apart.

Ryan abandoned our luggage and me—mid-dry-heave—to rush over. "Faye, did you bully her again?"

He knew Faye wouldn't have come without his permission.

Ryan turned, his cold gaze slowly sliding toward me.

Lucy bit her lip, following his stare. Her lashes fluttered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Ryan, is it because you came back to see me that—"

"This has nothing to do with you." Ryan gently wiped away her tear, then grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise.

"I'm sure Zoey didn't mean to—" Lucy stepped in front of me, pretending to defend me.

"Move."

Ryan's jaw clenched tighter, veins bulging on the hand gripping my wrist.

I gasped in pain but didn't pull away.

"Had enough of the performance yet?"

"Ever since Faye came back, you've been 'accidentally' pushed down stairs, 'coincidentally' served food you're allergic to, or had your dress 'mysteriously' rip at parties. And every single time, Ryan rushes to your rescue."

"Lucy, aren't you tired of this act?"

Faye shot me a grateful look before turning to Lucy with an undisguised smirk.

Ryan looked down at me, pulling me closer with just enough force to make his point. His voice was ice-cold.

"Zoey, are you saying I've been blind and stupid all these years?"

"Haven't you?" I met his eyes without flinching.

"Didn't you delete the stairwell security footage? Didn't you chop up those shrimp for her even though they were sitting right there on her plate?"

He froze, surprised by my sudden defiance.

Lucy took a step closer, tears dropping onto his hand one by one.

"Zoey, do you really have to rub it in my face how Ryan protects his real sister?"

"Protects Faye?" I tightened my grip on his loosening hand. "Is that what happened?"

Ryan's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He nodded.

I gave Faye a slight nod. With a scoff, she shoved her phone in his face.

The video showed everything—from the moment she met Lucy until now.

They hadn't touched each other once. Not even a hair.

Then, the moment their figures appeared at the corner, Lucy jumped out of the car, huddled under a tree, and started crying.

"Since Faye came back, Lucy's been 'bullied' three hundred and seventy-two times." I thrust the phone closer to his face.

"Forget the rest for now. Ryan, tell me—who was bullying her just now? Thin air?"

Ryan stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Lucy suddenly rushed forward, eyes brimming with tears.

"Zoey, please don't do this to Ryan! He's just worried about me. If it'll help, I'll apologize to Faye."

She put on her best martyr act, ready to grovel.

Ryan didn't stop her. He simply rolled up his sleeves, arranged the luggage, and guided me to the most sheltered seat.

I was momentarily stunned. For once, he wasn't defending Lucy.

Then his hand paused mid-zip on my jacket, his lips brushing my ear in what would've sounded like a lover's whisper to anyone else.

"Zoey, there's a limit to jealousy."

"You could've gone after anyone. Why my sister?"

His voice was soft, but it felt like a slap across my face.

I clutched my aching stomach, ears ringing.

Everything around me seemed to slow down and magnify.

I watched Ryan's expression shift back into that tender smile as he lifted Lucy into the van with the same care, warming his hands before daring to wipe her tears.

The world went silent.

My heart felt like it was being wrung out, pain so sharp tears spilled over.

For a moment, I remembered the Ryan from college—the one who'd sprint across campus just to bring me my favorite latte.

Back then, he'd looked at me the same way, wiped my tears the same way, and said, "Why are you crying? I only treat you this well. Better get used to it."

Now, I stared at my reflection in the window—red-rimmed eyes staring back.

Beside me, only Faye awkwardly pressed tissues into my hand.

Meanwhile, Ryan was pulling out a pink hand warmer from his bag—the one he kept in every coat pocket because I got cold easily, especially during pregnancy—and tucking it into Lucy's hands.

My stomach churned violently. Sharp pains shot through my abdomen.

I told myself: Just hold on. Once the baby's born, once I have the evidence I need, I'll leave him. I'll end this marriage.