Novels by Trajeh

JAKEThe world felt quieter here.Maybe it was the snow, falling in a slow, endless hush as if someone had pressed mute on everything else. Or maybe it was the way Lily walked beside me, her laugh still clinging to the air like the tail end of music. Whatever it was, I wished I could trap it, keep it and live inside it forever.We had just finished another lesson calling it a lesson was generous. She taught, I stumbled, we laughed, and somehow I learned more than I expected. Now, trudging side by side toward the lodge, skis balanced over our shoulders, I felt like I belonged here. And that was dangerous.Because I didn’t.“Hey, disaster” Lily said, grinning as she reached over and shoved something into my chest. My gloves. I hadn’t even realized I’d left them on the bench.“You’re my hero” I said, stuffing them into my jacket pocket. “Imagine the headlines if I’d frozen to death twenty feet from the lodge.”She rolled her eyes. “You’d have been fine. Worst case, I would’ve sledded you

LilyI always loved the quiet just before the afternoon lessons. The air crisp and clean, kids tumbling around on their tiny skis and the hum of the lift in the background like a lullaby of winter. The snow today was soft and powdery.I was sipping the last of my peppermint tea from a dented thermos when I saw him.Jake.Punctual this time, which was a small miracle in itself. He looked well, better geared, for starters. His jacket was sleek black, fitted, and clearly new. Not in a flashy way, but in the “I-don’t-shop-sales-rack” kind of way. His boots actually matched and his helmet didn’t look like it had survived three wars.Still, he carried himself like a man preparing to face his doom.“Hey, disaster” I called out with a grin, sliding my goggles up.He gave me a sheepish smile as he trudged over, skis balanced awkwardly on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know I’m now a seasoned skier. I watched three YouTube videos last night.”“Did they cover falling with flair? Because that’s you

JAKEThey call it the bunny hill.Which is ironic, considering I’ve never felt more like a helpless.I was all limbs and fear and a deep, unshakable certainty that I would soon be airborne and not in the majestic Olympic way.Lily stood beside me, radiating calm like she belonged here. Which, of course, she did. She looked at home in the snow, the sky, the breeze. Like someone who was part of the mountain, not just passing through.I, on the other hand, looked like an off-brand action figure in a rental helmet.“Okay, Jake.” Her voice was bright, patient. “We’re going to take it slow. I’m going to walk you through a glide and we’ll practice stopping.”“Stopping” I repeated. “Yes. Vital skill.”She grinned, holding out her poles like a flight attendant about to demonstrate an emergency landing. “Think of it like a pizza. You angle your skis inward like this ” She moved her feet into a perfect wedge. “and the friction helps you stop.”I stared. “Pizza?”“Yup. You’ll never look at peppero

JAKE I woke up to pain.Not the dramatic, life-flashing-before-your-eyes kind. More like the you tried to ski for twenty minutes and now your calves are filing for divorce kind. Every muscle in my legs screamed, and my spine felt like I had wrestled a pine tree in my sleep and lost.I groaned into the pillow.“You’re a genius” I muttered to myself, rolling over and blinking at the pale morning light pouring in through the chalet’s massive windows. “A billionaire genius. Who can't even stand up on a pair of skis.”I stared at the ceiling for a minute, debating the pros and cons of just hiding in this overpriced cabin for the rest of the week with cocoa, books, and the world’s fastest Wi-Fi.But then I thought about her.Lily.The way she’d laughed when I crashed into that snowbank like a human-shaped disaster. The gentle sarcasm. The braid falling over her shoulder as she turned back to make sure I wasn’t dead.I groaned again but this time for a very different reason.I wasn’t here t

LilyThere’s nothing quite like the quiet after a snowfall.Up here, the world feels suspended in time pine trees draped in white, rooftops sugar-dusted, and the slopes stretching out like a canvas waiting for the first brushstroke. The air is so crisp it stings the tip of my nose, and the snow beneath my skis is perfect fluffy but firm. The kind of snow instructors like me dream of.I carve a slow curve into the hillside, just for the feel of it. My legs know what to do, my body responding like second nature. I’ve skied this mountain since I was old enough to stand, and even now, after years of teaching wobbly tourists and overconfident teenagers, it still feels like home.Until I hear the yell.It cuts through the still morning air like a snapped branch. Sharp. Human.My eyes scan the slope and there he was.A man in a sleek white jacket and glossy helmet is barreling downhill like an out-of-control shopping cart. Arms flailing. Legs bent in all the wrong ways. He’s not skiing. He’s