At first, he appreciated Evelyn’s stubbornness, her refusal to conform. But then he began to see it as a flaw—a flaw he wanted to fix.
“You can’t keep acting like this. You need to change.”
“Evelyn, why can’t you be more like Charlotte? Do you always have to be so difficult?”
“There’s only so much patience a person has. Don’t test mine.”
Evelyn loved Christopher deeply, but she wasn’t naive. She knew love wasn’t permanent. Her parents’ love for her had faded; why wouldn’t Christopher’s?
So, she began changing—bit by bit, piece by piece—molding herself into the version of Evelyn that Christopher seemed to want.
She hid her temper, bit her tongue and tried to be as poised and agreeable as Charlotte.
But the more she changed, the less of herself remained. Depression crept in and soon, Evelyn was a shadow of the person she used to be. She spoke less, smiled rarely and lost interest in everything.
And yet, it still wasn’t enough for Christopher.
Now, as snowflakes tumbled from the sky, Evelyn knelt in the courtyard, her body trembling from the cold. The icy flakes melted on her cheeks and trickled down her neck, but she didn’t move.
Through the windows of the villa, warm light spilled out, accompanied by the sound of laughter. Christopher and Charlotte’s voices mingled inside, their laughter ringing clear as they talked about something amusing.
Human instinct craved warmth and light, but Evelyn only bowed her head lower. Her legs had gone numb long ago, but the faint smile on her lips was bitter and indifferent.
None of it mattered.
A month from now, she would be on the operating table, her life hanging by a thread. She had already decided that if she didn’t make it, so be it.
Warmth, love, health, life—it all seemed so pointless.
Later that night, after the birthday celebration, Christopher drove Charlotte home.
As he passed the courtyard, he saw Evelyn, still kneeling in the snow. She didn’t lift her head to look at him, her figure a motionless silhouette against the white backdrop.
Christopher hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He climbed into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, annoyance flickering in his chest.
He didn’t know why he felt that way, but it bothered him.
Breaking the silence, he glanced at Charlotte and asked, “Do you think I’m... too harsh on her?”