Chapter 1Love Blossomed Like Summer Fire, Then Withered

On the eve of our fourth anniversary trip, Jonah was in the bathroom taking a shower.

His phone screen suddenly lit up on the nightstand.

The message was brief:

[Dr. Beckett, my sister just got her divorce finalized. She is alone in the psychiatric ward and she is in a really bad place. Please, you have to come see her.]

The sender's number belonged to Toby, the younger brother of Aria, the girl Jonah had once loved with a fierce, self-destructive passion. She was the ghost that had haunted our relationship from day one.

The hum of the shower died down. When Jonah walked out, towel drying his hair, I handed him the phone. I turned my back, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

Within seconds, Jonah wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin gently on the crown of my head.

"Don't worry, I'm not going," he murmured. "I promised I'd take you on this trip, and I'm keeping that promise."

Just as my racing heart began to settle, another message flashed on the screen:

[She has been sobbing for hours. She keeps repeating one thing over and over: Jonah, I regret it.]

The arms wrapped around my waist stiffened.

It was funny how the future we had spent four years building could be derailed so easily. The past only had to wave its hand, and he was already turning back.

"Jonah," I said softly.

He did not hear me the first time.

Only when I called his name again did he seem to snap out of his trance, his eyes instantly clouding with guilt.

"Sorry, Nell. Things at the hospital have been so hectic lately, I keep zoning out."

He reached out to pull me into his chest, just like he always did, but I stood frozen.

Noticing my stiffness, his voice grew tense. "Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?"

I looked into his eyes, keeping my voice quiet and even. "If you want to go to the hospital to see her, we can reschedule our trip."

"I am not going," he replied instantly. He even managed a small laugh, reaching out to gently tap the tip of my nose. "Silly girl, stop overthinking. I'm a doctor, not her private caretaker."

He said it lightly, but I knew Jonah. He was never a man to hesitate or lose focus. He was always decisive, except during his college years when he was dating Aria. Back then, he used to wear that exact same vacant, distracted look.

I knew that look because I used to look up at Jonah the exact same way he looked up at Aria.

We hit a quiet stalemate that night. Jonah apologized repeatedly, trying to soothe the unspoken tension between us.

"Nell, I admit I got distracted, but you're the only one in my heart now," he said, cupping my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. "I don't love her. I haven't loved her for a long time."

His gaze was so earnest that I almost believed him.

Almost.

But Jonah had once been so reckless for Aria. Even though I had been with him for four years, her shadow still loomed over us, cold and insurmountable.

Late into the night, he finally managed to soothe me to sleep.

Through the haze of slumber, I felt him slip out of bed. A moment later, the muffled sound of a tense conversation drifted in from the balcony. His voice was cold and sharp.

"I am a doctor, yes, but I am not the only psychiatrist at that hospital."

He sounded nearly impatient.

"The nurses can handle her. Stop calling my personal number. My girlfriend is going to misunderstand."

The weight in my chest finally lifted.

Beneath the covers, I let out a quiet breath, smiling at my own insecurity.

Soon, the bed dipped as he climbed back in. He pulled me flush against his chest, his warm breath tickling my ear.

"I love you, Nell," he whispered.

I woke up early the next morning. Jonah had to finish a morning shift before his vacation officially started, so I packed our bags and headed to the airport ahead of him.

Looking at our detailed travel itinerary, I could already picture the snow falling on our shoulders in Aspen.

I waited at the gate until noon, when a text from him finally arrived:

[Sweetheart, hang tight. Just wrapping up my last patient and then I'll head straight to the airport.]

I texted back a quick confirmation with a heart emoji.

At the time, I had no idea that the last patient he referred to was Aria.

The hours ticked away. The departure boards in the terminal flickered, updating constantly. All the daytime flights to our destination had already departed, leaving only the final red-eye of the night.

If we missed this one, the winter storm forecast for tomorrow would ground all flights, and our fourth-anniversary trip would be completely ruined.

Jonah still had not arrived.

I called him multiple times, but my calls went straight to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. My first instinct, ridiculously enough, was to worry that he had been in a car crash on his way to the airport.