When I opened my eyes, everything was white.

Not snow.

A hospital ceiling.

My mother was asleep beside the bed, still wearing the coat she must have thrown on before coming to find me.

I tried to move.

Pain immediately shot through my injured leg.

Then I remembered Mount Aster.

The letters.

Serena.

Adrian kneeling with the ring.

And the pregnancy.

My hand moved instinctively toward my stomach.

My mother woke.

—Elena?

I couldn’t make myself ask.

She understood anyway.

Her eyes filled with tears.

—The baby is safe.

I closed my eyes.

Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.

My mother squeezed my hand.

—But the doctor said you can’t put yourself through anything like that again.

I nodded.

Then I noticed my phone on the table.

—How long was I unconscious?

—Almost fourteen hours.

—Adrian?

Her expression hardened.

—Forty-six calls.

I turned the phone off.

Three days later, I left the city with my mother.

I canceled the venue.

The flowers.

The photographer.

Everything except one thing.

My wedding dress.

I had it delivered to Adrian’s apartment.

Inside the box, I placed all thirty-six letters.

No explanation.

No accusation.

Only a note:

“Serena waited for these longer than I did.”

Then I changed my number.

Adrian returned two days before our wedding.

According to my mother, he went directly to my apartment.

Empty.

Then to the wedding venue.

Canceled.

Then to my office.

I had resigned.

Only then did he open the box.

At 11:40 that night, my mother received a call.

She put it on speaker.

—Where is Elena?

Adrian sounded nothing like the man I knew.

—Safe.

—Let me speak to her.

—She doesn’t want to speak to you.

Silence.

Then:

—She went to Mount Aster, didn’t she?

My mother looked at me.

I said nothing.

Adrian’s breathing became uneven.

—She saw us.

Still silence.

—Mrs. Hart, please.

My mother answered coldly:

—You were planning to abandon my pregnant daughter at the altar.

The line went completely quiet.

Then Adrian whispered:

—Pregnant?

I took the phone.

For the first time since the mountain, I spoke to him.

—Yes.

—Elena—

—Don’t.

His voice cracked.

—Why didn’t you tell me?

I almost laughed.

—When? Before or after you proposed to Serena?

—That wasn’t—

—Wasn’t what it looked like?

—Serena’s son is my responsibility.

My fingers tightened.

—Then take responsibility.

I paused.

—Just not for me.

I hung up.

I thought it was finished.

But Adrian Cross had spent years hunting people who didn’t want to be found.

Six weeks later, he found me.

I walked out of my first prenatal appointment and saw him standing across the street.

He looked thinner.

Exhausted.

And alone.

I immediately turned away.

—Elena.

I kept walking.

—The letters weren’t written to Serena.

That stopped me.

I slowly turned.

—Her name is on every one.

—Yes.

He approached but kept his distance.

—Because Serena was my emergency contact for those operations.

I stared at him.

—Do you expect me to believe that?

—No. That’s why I brought the originals.

He handed me a military file.

Every operation had a coded instruction attached.

If Adrian died, certain letters were supposed to reach Serena.

But there was something else.

A name repeated throughout the classified paperwork.

Lieutenant Michael Vale.

Serena’s husband.

Deceased.

I looked up.

Adrian spoke quietly.

—Michael died saving my unit. Before he died, I promised him Serena and his son would never be abandoned.

My stomach tightened.

—Then why propose to her?

Adrian looked ashamed.

—Because I thought I owed Michael a family.

—And me?

He had no answer.

That was answer enough.

I handed the file back.

—You still chose to humiliate me.

—Yes.

His eyes reddened.

—I thought you’d forgive me because I saved you years ago.

—Exactly.

—And I was wrong.

For once, he didn’t make excuses.

—I treated your gratitude like a chain.

I walked away.

He didn’t follow.

Three months passed.

Then four.

Adrian never appeared again.

But every medical bill was mysteriously paid.

I returned every payment.

Every gift sent for the baby went back unopened.

Eventually, they stopped coming.

Until one afternoon, my mother entered carrying an envelope.

—This isn’t from Adrian.

The sender was Serena Vale.

Inside was a photograph.

My blood ran cold.

It showed the accident from nine years earlier.

The accident Adrian had supposedly rescued me from.

On the back Serena had written:

“You need to know why Adrian was there that night.”

There was also a memory card.

I inserted it into my laptop.

An old surveillance recording appeared.

Rain.

A highway.

My younger self crossing the road.

Then a black vehicle entered the frame.

I leaned closer.

The car that struck me hadn’t appeared by accident.

It had been following another vehicle.

And behind the wheel was someone I recognized.

Serena.

My hands went cold.

Then another figure appeared in the recording.

Adrian.

But he wasn’t arriving to rescue me.

He had been in Serena’s passenger seat moments before the crash.

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

Serena’s voice came through.

—Now you understand why Adrian spent all these years believing he owed you his life.

I couldn’t breathe.

—What happened that night?

Serena remained silent for several seconds.

Then she said:

—Ask him why he never told you that your accident wasn’t an accident.

The call ended.

Before I could move, someone knocked on the front door.

My mother opened it.

Adrian stood outside.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

Beside him was a man holding an old police evidence box.

Adrian looked directly at me.

—Elena, before our baby is born, there’s something you deserve to know.

He placed the box on the table.

My name was written across the top.

Then he said the words that made my mother turn pale.

—I didn’t save you that night. I was one of the reasons you almost died.