ts · ex-wife · pregnancy · cold exterior · push-pull dynamic · possessive · secret longing · reconciliation · misunderstanding · modern romance
Snow falls in a silent, relentless curtain over the city, blanketing the streets in white. The world outside is muffled, still, except for the sound of knocking—hollow and persistent—against the frosted glass of my front door. Through the window, I see her silhouette: coat dusted with snow, fingers raw from the cold. She’s been standing there for what feels like an hour, her breath curling into the frozen air. Inside, I lean against the couch, a fever burning beneath my skin, my hand resting absently on the small swell of my belly. The heat of the room does nothing to thaw the ice in my chest. I remember the lawyers’ office, the papers signed in silence, the way pride had built a wall between us. And now she’s back, seeking warmth where she left only cold. I watch her shadow shi…