The Cold Major’s Obsession

Isolde's POV

While I was barely holding myself together, my boyfriend was outside in the snow smiling at another girl.

Beyond the RV, there was music, firelight, and laughter. Inside, there was only the sound of my breathing growing heavier.

And that night, I finally stopped lying to myself.

The heavy bass from outside the camp made the RV hum, and my temples throbbed in time with it.

I tightened my grip on the charcoal pencil, pressing hard as I sketched the sculpture's shadows in my sketchbook.

It was a terrible draft.

The lines were messy, the structure uneven—nothing like my usual work.

I took a deep breath, trying to force down the nausea rising in my chest.

I never should have come on this mountain trip.

Over the past two weeks, the studio had taken on three rush orders for large-scale installation art.

As the lead sculptor, I'd been going to bed at two or three in the morning and getting up again at six or seven every day.

My friend Jade Marie had pointed at my dark circles and called me a workaholic with a death wish.

But one phone call from my boyfriend, Louis Cox, threw all my plans out the window.

He said the stars at the mountain campsite were beautiful, that he hadn't seen me in so long and missed me terribly, and that if I didn't come, the whole trip would be meaningless.

Louis always knew how to make me give in.

Ever since we were kids, whenever he put on that slightly hurt expression or called my name in that wheedling tone, I always caved.

Even though I'd been physically weak since childhood—catching a cold from the slightest breeze and coughing for half a month—even though I was drowning in work, I still couldn't bring myself to refuse him.

I set down the charcoal pencil and rubbed my aching forehead, dizziness washing over me and making me unsteady.

I needed to call Louis in—I felt awful.

Bracing myself against the edge of the table, I struggled to my feet.

A thick layer of white frost had formed on the RV's windows.

I wiped away a patch of fog with the back of my hand, and the blinding glare of snow burst through the glass straight into my eyes.

Outside was as lively as an amusement park, colorful ski suits weaving through the snow-covered campsite.

Tall pine trees were wrapped in warm yellow camping lights, and a huge bonfire blazed in the distance.

I spotted Louis immediately.

He was wearing that eye-catching bright red jacket, leaning against a modified SUV and laughing so hard he was doubled over.

He had a handful of snow, trying to shove it down someone's collar.

The person he was chasing was Lily Martin, his college classmate.

Lily wore a pure white cropped down jacket with tight jeans that showed off her athletic figure.

Not only did she not dodge him, she grabbed a large snowball and smashed it straight into his face without mercy.

Louis let out an exaggerated yell and reached up to wipe his face.

Lily immediately took the chance to jump onto his back, laughing loud and free.

Louis looked up at her with nothing but indulgence and delight—not a trace of irritation.

The intimacy of the scene was painfully bright.

Lily was the kind of girl who fit perfectly into his world.

She loved racing, loved all kinds of sports, and could party with him all night to ear-splitting heavy metal.

She could follow him onto dangerous backcountry ski runs. She could be his navigator at the racetrack.

And me—I was the one allergic to dust, the one who got nauseous from gasoline fumes, the one who got out of breath after walking a few extra steps.

Cold sweat ran down my back, soaking through my cashmere sweater.

The icy air leaking through the crack in the door made me shiver.

I wanted to push the door open and shout, "Louis, I feel terrible."

But looking at the man outside, laughing in the snow like sunlight itself, I couldn't force a single sound from my throat.

If I stepped out now with this deathly pale face, their fun would stop instantly.

Louis would drop his smile and put on that expression of concern edged with faint impatience.

He would leave his friends and come take care of me.

And then everyone would know that Louis's killjoy girlfriend was sick again.

This had happened too many times over the years we'd grown up together.

I hated being a burden—had hated it since childhood.

Slowly, I let go of the door handle.

I braced myself against the wall and stumbled toward the storage locker in the corner of the RV. The emergency kit I'd put together last time I had a cold should still be in there.

My fingers were stiff with cold, and it took me several tries to work the zipper open. Thermometer, band-aids, fever reducer… I fished out a few blister packs of the usual meds and swallowed them down with some lukewarm water.

The pills stuck in my throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

I slid down against the cabinet door and sat on the floor, closing my eyes as I waited for the medicine to kick in.

My head still hurt. But at least I'd done something — I wasn't just a burden, waiting around for someone to come save me.

The fog on the glass spread again, blurring the scene outside like a filter.

A sudden burst of cheering erupted near the bonfire.

Several young people in ski suits, carrying armfuls of snowballs, rushed toward Louis.

"Louis! Come play snowball fight! Loser drinks tonight!" someone shouted.

Louis answered with an arrogant, challenging gesture.

He bent down to pack a snowball, completely unaware that inside the RV behind him, I was watching through the glass, my breaths shallow and unsteady.

Lily jumped off his back, reached out, and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the crowd.

Louis didn't shake her off. He even wrapped an arm around her shoulder to keep her from slipping.

At that moment, my headache worsened.

I didn't want to think too hard about what they really were to each other.

In the adult world of relationships, once certain boundaries start to blur, self-deception becomes a joke.

Cracks had existed between Louis and me for a long time—we just neither of us had the courage to be the one to tear them fully open.

As Lily pulled him along, Louis seemed to remember something.

He stopped and turned his head, his gaze passing over the bonfire and the crowd before landing on the RV.

My heart skipped.

Even through the frosted glass, even knowing he couldn't possibly see me clearly inside, I instinctively held my breath.

Would he come check on me? Would he notice I wasn't feeling well?

Louis raised a hand, waved twice toward the RV, and called out,

"Isolde! Just wait for me in the RV! I'll be back soon!"

His voice reached me through the cabin, light and casual, as if he were soothing a pet left in the trunk.

Then he turned away without hesitation.

Lily pulled him along, and the two of them ran off side by side.

The cabin fell completely silent, so silent that all I could hear was my own strained breathing.

"Back soon..." I repeated with a bitter smile.

His "soon" was never really soon.

Maybe a few hours. Maybe not until late at night, when he would finally return carrying the cold with him—and the scent of someone else's perfume.

The medicine either took way too long to kick in, or it wasn't doing anything at all.

My cold sweat had soaked through my clothes, clinging wet and icy to my skin, and the dizziness came crashing down all at once.

The warmth had drained from my hands and feet. Every finger felt stiff and numb.

The bright world before my eyes began to twist and fade.

My body went limp, and I blacked out completely.