Chapter 3: Ghosts in the Snow

When the snow stopped at dawn, Harrison had the driver take him back to Maple Heights.

He woke with a pounding headache, the taste of last night’s whiskey still lingering on his tongue. The hotel room was cold, the curtains drawn tight against the morning light. He checked his watch, cursing under his breath. He’d promised Lillian he’d be home early, that he’d pick her up from the cemetery. Guilt twisted in his gut as he called for the car.

He’d drunk too much the night before, in high spirits watching the snow, and spent the night at a hotel.

The city was quiet, the streets slick with ice. He watched the world blur past the window, his mind racing. He tried to convince himself it was just a mistake, that everything could be fixed with a few well-chosen words.

But his internal clock never changed—no matter how hungover, he always woke before dawn.

Old habits died hard. He prided himself on discipline, on control. But today, it felt like everything was slipping through his fingers.

After a brief moment of confusion, he suddenly remembered—it was the anniversary of his mother-in-law’s death. The date hit him. Hard.

He’d promised Lillian he’d pick her up early and bring her home.

He replayed the conversation in his mind, her hopeful smile, the way she’d squeezed his hand. He’d brushed her off, distracted by his own problems. Now, he wished he’d paid more attention.

A pang of guilt hit him.

It was sharp, immediate, a reminder of all the ways he’d failed her. He tried to push it down, but it lingered, gnawing at the edges of his conscience.

When Lillian was a child, she lost both parents in an accident. The Whitmore family took her in.

Tiny. Scared. Clutching that old teddy bear. He remembered the day she arrived—small, frightened, clutching a faded teddy bear. The family had welcomed her, given her a home, a new name. He’d always felt responsible for her, even as they grew up side by side.

They grew up together, and he’d always doted on her like a little sister.

He taught her to ride a bike, to swim in the lake, to climb the old oak tree in the backyard. She was always there, a constant presence in his life, easy to overlook until it was too late.

Until, at twenty-one, she drugged his drink, came to him in a thin nightgown, and clung to him.

He’d never forget that night—the confusion, the heat, the way she whispered his name. He’d been angry, hurt, but mostly lost. He couldn’t remember all the details, just the feeling of being trapped, unable to escape the past.

The drug made him lose all control, and in that haze, he mistook her for Julia. He couldn’t remember. Not really.

He still remembered Lillian crying beneath him that night, but still saying over and over:

“Harrison, I like you so much… I’ll never leave you, not for my whole life…”

Her words haunted him, a constant reminder of the lines he’d crossed. He tried to forget, but the guilt lingered, poisoning everything that came after.

Of course she dared say that—the Whitmores doted on her so much.

The family closed ranks around her, protecting her from the fallout. He resented it, resented her, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

When they found out what had happened, they forced him to marry her.

There was no discussion, no choice. The family gathered in the living room, voices low and serious. His grandfather’s word was law—he would do the right thing, for the family’s sake. So he did.

Harrison let out a silent, cold laugh.

He’d always done what was expected of him, always played the part. But inside, he was angry, lost, and alone.

Her wish had come true, but what about Julia?

He thought of her, the way she’d looked at him when she found out. The betrayal in her eyes, the pain. He’d never forgiven himself for driving her away.

His marriage had broken Julia’s heart. She’d left. Cut off all contact. Gone for years.

He tried to move on, to build a life with Lillian, but it was never enough. Julia haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t exorcise.

He let out a heavy sigh and rubbed his aching temples.

The car pulled through the gates of Maple Heights.

The driveway was slick with ice, the trees heavy with snow. The house loomed ahead, dark and silent. He felt a chill, unrelated to the weather.

It was silent all around. The main house was dark.

He checked his watch, frowning. Lillian usually left a light on for him, a small gesture of hope. Tonight, the darkness felt like an accusation.

He knew Lillian slept in during winter, so he skipped the master bedroom and headed straight to his study.

He moved quietly, careful not to disturb the silence. The study was his sanctuary, a place where he could think, escape. But tonight, it felt different. Too quiet.

The door was still ajar, not locked.

He paused, surprised. Lillian never left doors open, never crossed boundaries. He pushed it open, heart pounding.

He’d warned Lillian not to enter his study right after they got married, and she’d always listened.

In three years, she’d never set foot inside.

Everything was as usual. The copy of "In Search of Lost Time" he’d been rereading lay face down on the desk.

But now, there was a photo and a sheet of paper beside it.

A sudden tightness gripped his chest.

He strode to the desk and saw Julia’s face in the photo.

He picked it up, and underneath it was the sheet of paper.

The handwriting was graceful yet strong—just one short sentence.

He recognized Lillian’s hand at a glance:

“Harrison, I’ll let you go.”

He didn’t know how long he stood there.

Time seemed to stand still. He stared at the words, unable to move, unable to think. The room felt smaller, the air heavy.

When he came to, the paper was crumpled in his clenched fist.

He noticed the gold pen lying nearby.

It was a wedding gift from Lillian.

He remembered her smile as she handed it to him, the way she’d insisted on engraving his initials. He’d used it every day since, a small reminder of her love.

And now, she’d used that gift to leave him this surprise.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He let out a short, bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet room.

Harrison let out a short, humorless laugh, then turned and hurried out.

He moved quickly, almost frantically, searching for any sign of her. The house felt empty, every room colder than the last.

He walked to the master bedroom, opened the door—only to find it empty.

The bed was neatly made, her things gone. He stood in the doorway, stunned, the reality sinking in.

He stood there for half a minute, then let out a disbelieving laugh.

He’d always assumed she’d be there, waiting for him. The thought that she might actually leave had never occurred to him.

He’d felt guilty for forgetting to pick her up the day before, but now that guilt was gone.

Anger replaced it, sharp and hot. He told himself she was being dramatic, that she’d come back when she calmed down.

Expression cold, he threw the crumpled paper into the trash.

He didn’t look back. The sound of the paper hitting the bin was final, absolute.

As he headed downstairs, his phone suddenly rang.

His heart skipped a beat, and he grabbed it quickly.

But the name flashing on the screen was Julia.

Ignoring a faint, inexplicable sense of loss, Harrison answered.

“Harrison, let’s go to the hot springs resort in a few days, okay?”

Her voice was light, teasing. He pictured her smile, the way she used to look at him across crowded rooms. For a moment, he almost forgot everything else.

“Bring your wife along, and introduce us. I really want to meet her…”

He stiffened, irritation flaring. The thought of Lillian and Julia in the same room made his skin crawl.

Irritation surged in him.

“I’m not bringing her.”

“She’s stubborn and always causing trouble. If I bring her, she’ll just ruin the mood.”

He heard the bitterness in his own voice, the resentment he’d been holding back for years.

“She’s still young…”

“Twenty-four is still young? When you were her age, you were way more mature.”

Julia laughed softly: “What’s got you so worked up this early in the morning?”

Her laughter was soothing, familiar. He felt himself relax, just a little.

“Nothing. Just annoyed.”

“Want me to keep you company?”

Julia’s voice was as gentle as ever, soothing him instantly.

His tone softened: “Let’s have lunch together. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.”