Rain After the Snow

"Willa, we can talk about this. Please put the knife down."

Julian Prescott closed his bare hand around the blade I'd pressed to my throat. Its edge bit into his palm, and blood began dripping between his fingers.

I let go without thinking.

Then the last words he'd spoken to me in my previous life flashed through my head.

"In our next life, please let me go."

Last time, I'd held a knife to my throat, too. Julian had asked, with that same weary patience, what I wanted from him.

I'd told him I wanted to get married. Immediately. No more excuses.

So he'd driven me straight to the county clerk's office. We'd arrived ten minutes before closing, because he was desperate to get back to Sophie Vale, his first love, who had a high fever.

No veil. No proper clothes. Not even a ceremony as convincing as the pretend weddings we'd staged as children.

I'd held our marriage certificate and laughed until I cried.

After 188 attempts to force his hand, the one thing I'd wanted had come almost absurdly easily.

Back then, I'd been ecstatic. Now the memory only felt cruel.

I studied Julian's face. His eyebrows. His eyes. The curve of his mouth. Every detail was exactly as I remembered.

For three years, I'd dreamed about him, yet each time I woke, pieces of his face slipped away.

Today, I could finally remember all of it.

And that meant I could finally say goodbye.

"Julian, let's break up."

He blinked. Fatigue and resignation crossed his face. Then he crouched in front of me, dipped a cotton swab in antiseptic, and gently cleaned the thin cut on my neck.

"I know you're upset that I postponed the wedding. But Sophie's depression has gotten bad again.

"She's not stable right now. I really can't leave her alone."

He looked up, his expression open and earnest.

"I promised your father I'd look after you for the rest of your life. I meant it, and I still do."

He paused.

"So could you please stop making scenes?"

The face in front of me was the same one I'd last seen covered in blood, dying to save me. A dull ache spread through my chest.

I didn't answer. Instead, I counted silently.

Three.

Two.

One.

Right on cue, his phone rang.

Sophie's sobs poured through the speaker the moment he answered.

The calm in Julian's voice vanished.

"Sophie, don't be scared. I'm on my way."

He hung up, grabbed his car keys, and strode toward the front door.

"Sophie's running a high fever. I have to check on her.

"Be good, okay? I'll make time tomorrow to take you dress shopping."

The door shut before I could respond.

I stood in the empty house and almost laughed.

It was always like that. Julian asked whether something was all right, whether I minded, whether I could understand.

But my answer never mattered.

He'd already decided. And Sophie always won.

This time, I didn't run after him or pound on the door.

I picked up my phone and canceled tomorrow's bridal appointment.

Then I booked a train ticket, departing in three days for the remote high desert of the Red Basin.

In my last life, I'd stayed in the glittering city of Westbridge for Julian and driven myself half-mad trying to hold on to him.

This time, I wanted to see the borderlands where my father had spent most of his life serving his country.