Winter Is Coming, Love Has Turned to Frost
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Summary
On the day before New Year’s Eve, a letter arrived.
It was from Noah. From the Noah who was seventeen years old.
His words were a torrent of pure, undiluted love. He swore he would find me. He told me, begged me, to never forgive the man he had become, the man who was hurting me now.
I believed him.
And I terminated the pregnancy.
On New Year’s Day, I put on the white dress he—the seventeen-year-old Noah—had always loved. And I waited.
When the knock finally came, I threw open the door.
And froze.
