Chapter 1 - The Red Roses in the Snow
The bouquet slipped from my fingers before I ever reached the porch.
Red roses scattered across the frozen white snow, their petals staining the ice like drops of fresh blood. For a terrifying second, my brain refused to process the scene. I stood paralyzed by the bitter wind of a December evening, staring blankly at the driveway.
Then I saw the bare feet.
My wife was lying motionless on the frozen concrete. Through the glowing dining-room window, my mother and sister were laughing, silhouettes of warmth and cruelty against the cold night.
I had spent two grueling years imagining this exact moment. Hundreds of nights sleeping under fluorescent lights, canvas roofs, and skies that sounded like they were tearing apart. Whenever exhaustion threatened to swallow me whole, I pictured Claire.
I imagined her opening the front door. The scent of cinnamon shampoo in her hair. Her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. Coffee the next morning without a radio clipped to my shoulder, without orders, without alarms. Just my wife, my home, my life.
That fantasy had carried me through every miserable, bone-chilling night of my deployment.
Reality looked nothing like it.
“Claire!”
I sprinted. My combat boots sank deep into the snow as I dropped hard beside her on the ice. She was wearing only a thin gray sweater and jeans. No coat. No shoes. Her hair was damp from melted frost.
I grabbed her hand. One wrist was dark purple. Another nasty bruise was already forming beneath her jaw, stark against her pale skin. Her lips had turned frighteningly blue.
I touched her face. Ice cold.
“Claire. Hey. Look at me.”
Nothing.
I pulled off my gloves, pressed two fingers against the side of her throat, and held my breath. A pulse. Weak, erratic, but there.
“Claire, wake up. I’m here.”
Her eyelids fluttered. For a single heartbeat, I saw her eyes—confused, haunted, terrified. Then her lips trembled.
“Ethan?”
“I’m here.”
Her voice was barely a breath. “You came home.”
May you like
Those three words shattered whatever remained of my heart. She didn't sound happy. She sounded relieved. As if she had been waiting for a rescue team that she wasn't sure would ever arrive.
---
