Adrian returned two days later.

At 8:17 that morning, I heard his key turn in the lock.

By then, the divorce agreement was already on the dining table.

Beside it sat my wedding ring.

Adrian entered carrying his suitcase.

There was snow still caught in the grooves of his boots.

He looked at the documents, then at me.

His expression darkened.

—You’re still doing this?

—Yes.

He loosened his coat.

—Elena, nothing happened between Serena and me.

—I didn’t say anything happened.

—Then what’s this?

He tapped the divorce papers.

I looked at him quietly.

—It’s me leaving.

He stared at me for several seconds before laughing incredulously.

—Because I missed one birthday?

There it was.

One birthday.

As if that were all.

I opened the agreement to the marked page.

—Sign it.

He didn’t sit down.

Instead, he asked:

—Did someone put this idea in your head?

I almost smiled.

Even now, he couldn’t imagine I had reached a decision without someone influencing me.

—No.

—Then you’re being emotional.

—Maybe.

I looked at him.

—But I’ve been emotionally exhausted for years.

His expression shifted slightly.

I continued before he could interrupt.

—Do you remember our second anniversary?

He frowned.

—What does that have to do with anything?

—You forgot it.

—Elena—

—Do you remember when I asked you to visit my father in the hospital?

Silence.

—You had a meeting.

I nodded.

—And Serena called because her car broke down.

His face changed.

—That was different.

—Exactly.

I smiled faintly.

—Everything involving Serena was always different.

Adrian pulled out a chair.

For the first time, he seemed to realize this wasn’t a tantrum he could wait out.

—Serena and I grew up together.

—I know.

—She doesn’t have many people here.

—I know.

—Then why are you suddenly making her the problem?

I shook my head.

—Serena isn’t the problem.

That stopped him.

—You are.

His eyes hardened.

I pointed toward the cake box still sitting on the kitchen counter.

—You told me birthdays weren’t important.

Then I showed him the Live Photo.

Snow.

Lake.

Serena’s voice.

Adrian looked away.

—I already explained that.

—I don’t care why you were there.

He looked back at me.

—I care that I spent years believing you simply weren’t capable of giving certain things.

Romance.

Attention.

Patience.

Time.

—Then I discovered you were perfectly capable of all of them.

Just not with me.

For once, Adrian had nothing to say.

His phone rang.

The screen lit up on the table.

Serena.

Neither of us moved.

It rang until it stopped.

Then immediately rang again.

I laughed softly.

—Answer it.

—No.

—Why not?

He turned the phone face down.

—We’re discussing our marriage.

Something about that sentence was almost funny.

—Now you want to discuss our marriage?

His jaw tightened.

I stood.

—Sign whenever you’re ready. I’ll stay at my old apartment until everything is finalized.

That finally shook him.

—You’re leaving today?

—I already packed.

He looked toward the hallway.

Only then did he notice the two suitcases near the door.

Adrian crossed the room quickly.

—Elena, stop.

He caught my wrist.

Not painfully.

Almost desperately.

I looked down at his hand.

He slowly released me.

—Give me a week.

—For what?

—To fix this.

I studied the man standing in front of me.

For years, I had begged for dinners together.

Weekend trips.

A birthday remembered without reminders.

One photograph of us that I hadn’t forced him to take.

Now, because I was leaving, suddenly he had time.

—No.

His face went still.

I picked up my suitcase.

Then the doorbell rang.

Adrian frowned.

When he opened the door, Serena stood outside.

She wore the white coat from the Live Photo.

In her hands was a gift bag.

Her smile disappeared when she saw my luggage.

—Elena?

Then she looked at Adrian.

—What’s happening?

I answered for him.

—We’re divorcing.

Serena’s eyes widened.

—Because of Northlake?

—No.

I stepped toward the door.

—Northlake just helped me understand why.

She moved aside.

But as I passed, she suddenly said:

—Elena, wait.

I stopped.

Serena looked genuinely uncomfortable.

—There’s something you misunderstood.

Adrian’s voice sharpened.

—Serena.

She ignored him.

—He didn’t go to Northlake for me.

I turned.

Serena reached into her bag and pulled out a small velvet box.

—He went there for this.

Adrian’s expression became icy.

—Enough.

She opened it.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace.

A tiny snowflake hung from the chain.

My chest tightened.

Serena spoke quickly.

—Three years ago, Elena told you she wanted to see the first snow at Lake Aster. You asked me where the best viewpoint was because I used to live there.

I looked at Adrian.

He said nothing.

Serena continued:

—He planned to take you there after his negotiation.

For one ridiculous second, hope tried to return.

Then Serena destroyed it herself.

—But when I arrived unexpectedly, he changed the plan.

The room went silent.

I understood.

He had remembered.

He had planned something for me.

And then Serena appeared.

So once again, I became the person who could wait.

I smiled.

This time there was no bitterness.

Only clarity.

I looked at Adrian.

—Thank you.

He frowned.

—For what?

—For making this easier.

I walked out.

Three weeks later, I moved into a small apartment with enormous windows.

I bought yellow curtains because Adrian had always said they looked childish.

I filled the refrigerator with things I liked.

Strawberry yogurt.

Spicy noodles.

Hazelnut chocolate.

I joined a photography class.

On Saturdays, I walked wherever I wanted without hearing that walking without a destination was pointless.

Adrian refused to sign the divorce papers.

At first.

Then he began appearing outside my apartment.

Flowers.

Dinner reservations.

Tickets to concerts.

Everything I had once wanted.

Everything that had arrived years too late.

I returned every gift.

One evening he finally asked:

—Did you really stop loving me that quickly?

I looked at him through the half-open door.

—No.

His eyes brightened.

Then I finished:

—It took years.

The light disappeared again.

A month later, he signed.

On the day our divorce became official, snow began falling unexpectedly over the city.

I stood outside the courthouse and lifted my face toward it.

Adrian stood several steps behind me.

—Elena.

I turned.

He held the snowflake necklace.

—This was supposed to be your birthday present.

I looked at it.

Then shook my head.

—Give it to someone who still needs proof that you once thought of her.

I walked away.

I thought that was the end of Adrian Cole.

Six months later, I finally traveled to Lake Aster alone.

The lake was exactly like the photograph.

White mountains.

Blue-gray water.

Snow drifting across the shore.

I raised my camera.

A voice behind me suddenly said:

—You’re standing in the worst possible place for that shot.

I turned.

A man around my age stood several feet away holding a camera.

He pointed toward the opposite trail.

—The view is better from up there.

I smiled.

—Is that professional advice?

—Free advice.

I followed the trail.

At the top, the view was breathtaking.

I photographed the lake.

Then, without thinking, I recorded a Live Photo.

Wind.

Snow.

My own laughter.

That evening, I posted it.

No caption.

Within minutes, my phone vibrated.

Adrian had liked it.

Then another notification appeared.

A message from Serena.

I almost ignored it.

But the preview made my blood run cold.

“Elena, there’s something about Northlake Adrian never told you.”

I opened it.

A photograph loaded.

It wasn’t from the lake.

It was taken inside Adrian’s hotel room that night.

On the desk was the snowflake necklace.

Beside it lay a printed document.

I zoomed in.

My name was at the top.

Underneath it were the words:

PROPERTY TRANSFER AGREEMENT.

And the date printed at the bottom was six months before my birthday.

My hands went cold.

Then Serena’s second message arrived.

“That trip was never really about work.”

A third followed immediately.

“And Adrian wasn’t planning to surprise you with only a necklace.”