Our Decade of Love Ended in Snow

When my girlfriend, Kate Hopkins, was first transferred to Althoria research station, I had made the long trip to visit her.

Opening the door, I found her wrapping a blanket around a stark-naked man. The glow from the heater lit up her panicked face.

In our seven years together, it was the first time I'd ever seen her lose her cool.

She scrambled to explain that he was the station's new field journalist, that he wasn't used to Althoria's climate, and that she was just trying to save him.

The man added weakly that he was just there for a quick interview and didn't expect the blizzard, and he was grateful for her care.

He struggled to sit up, telling me not to get the wrong idea and promising he'd leave as soon as the weather cleared.

Over the next three years, we spent more time apart than together, but our love never faded.

Kate called me every single day without fail, and I took care of her mother, Rosalie Lewis, who suffered from Alzheimer's.

Then came her birthday, and I quietly sorted out all the paperwork.

I caught the last supply boat of the season, wanting to surprise her.

But the moment I reached her door, I heard a man laughing inside. "We were at it all night, and you still have energy for the aurora?

"Why should I keep it down? Your boyfriend is thousands of miles away."

I froze, the howling wind biting at my face.

As I peered through the window, I recognized the man from years ago. Around his neck was the scarf I had knitted for Kate with my own hands.

I stood there stiffly for a long time, unable to move.

Then, I rubbed my frozen hands together, pulled out my phone, and typed out a text. "Hey, Kate, what are you doing?"

Inside the room, Nathan Walsh's laughter was lazy yet clear through the door. "Want to try somewhere else tonight? How about the observatory?"

Whatever Kate said on the other end of the line only made him laugh harder. "I'm only worried that you'll be unable to stand and end up begging me again."

I stared down at my screen. Kate hadn't replied yet.

Glancing back through the window, I looked inside.

Three years had passed, and Nathan had shed his youthful innocence and gained a casual, roguish edge. He tilted his head as he talked on the phone, looking completely at home.

The heating must have been cranked up. Nathan wore nothing but a silk robe with the belt tied loosely around his waist. The collar hung wide open, exposing his collarbone and chest.

I looked down at myself.

I hadn't even taken off my heavy down jacket yet. After the grueling journey from Cormora, my cuffs were still stained with dried saltwater.

I froze and slowly looked up until I saw the scarf around his neck. It was off-white, the stitches uneven, with a small heart sewn onto the end. I had knitted that myself, stitch by stitch.

I was a surgeon, but I was terrible at needlework. My fingers had been riddled with pinpricks, all because Kate had told me the winters in Althoria were freezing.

Now, that very scarf hung loosely around Nathan's neck. As he spoke, he absentmindedly twirled the fringe around his fingers.