Winter's unlikely love

Winter’s POV

My fingers clicked hurriedly through the keyboard. Today was my last day in the office before I go for my finally awaited one-month holiday break.

I paused to zoom in on the picture displayed on my laptop, a picture of Nolan Smith, my boyfriend.

“Your boyfriend?” A voice breathed near my ear, startling me. My fingers flew to the touchpad, fumbling to close the tab.

“It's so nice to be young and in love,” My chief editor, Mrs Quinn, leaned against my desk.

“But I need you to stop bringing your love life to work,” she continued, setting a stack of papers in front of my desk with a soft thud.

“You should finish them before you go for your vacation holiday,” she pointed at the papers.

“Yes, ma’am.” I replied with a forced nod.

Just then, an email notification suddenly popped up on my laptop screen, and I eagerly clicked on it. As I read the content, I let out a thrilled yelp.

It was my plane ticket to Bali.

“You are going to Bali for your vacation?” Mrs Quinn, her eyes scanning through the mail.

“Yes!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up with a radiant grin. “I will be going with my boyfriend. We will be spending time together in the private cabin we had booked.”

“I think he is going to propose,” I added in a small voice.

“Lucky for you,” she plastered a smile, then retracted it. “Winter dear, you don’t get to go to Bali without finishing the papers,” she said before walking away.

As I left work later that evening, after working through tonnes of papers just so I wouldn’t have to come back to the office again before I travelled for my vacation. I stepped down from the cab and looked up to the floor of my boyfriend’s apartment to see that the light was on, which indicated that he was home.

He had not picked up my calls nor returned my texts all day. I figured he might be swarmed with work like I am, given we are trying to close all ends before travelling. So, I decided to surprise him by showing up in his apartment with the plane tickets.

I brushed off the dirt that had glistened on my coat as I walked through the hallway while humming one of my favourite songs. When I reached the door to his apartment, I was surprised when I turned the doorknob, and it wasn’t locked.

I walked in to see a half empty bottle of wine on the table alongside two glass cups, with one smeared with red lipstick.

Then, the sound of grunting and moaning emanated from the bedroom. As I crept quietly towards the bedroom, my heart raced with each step. My hand hesitated on the door handle, hoping he was probably watching a racy movie. I took a deep breath before I flung the door open.

“What the hell?” The words escaped from my mouth.

“Winter?” My sister, Layla, called out.

There, standing at the doorway, was my sister stark naked, her knees pressed onto the sheets, back arched, and Nolan standing behind her.

She reluctantly pulled away from Nolan and lay on the bed with her hand holding her head in position while her boobs gawped at me. Nolan, surprised to see me, scrambled to cover herself down there with a blanket.

“Are you for real? My sister?” I turned to Nolan, my lips trembling and my eyes blazing with fury.

“I always knew you were always a snake,” I spat, turning to my sister, who didn’t show any ounce of guilt, a grin playing on her lips.

I fought the tears gathering in my eyes before dashing out of the bedroom. I heard Nolan calling after me, and I overheard my sister’s voice stopping him. “She is being dramatic. Let her be, and let’s finish this.”

I barely remembered how I got to be standing in front of Sicily’s apartment. My best friend.

“Are you okay?” Sicily narrowed her eyes at me as she let me in.

I know I looked terrible, but I didn’t care. I had cried through my ride here. The tears in my eyes had probably smudged my mascara, making Sicily look at me with concern.

Her eyes searched mine with concerned looks. She opened her mouth to repeat the question, but I beat her to it.

“Nolan cheated on me,” I choked out, crashing into her arms. “With Layla.”

She led me to the couch as she hugged me tightly. “I know Layla is your sister, but she is such a backbiting snake.” She stroked my back.

“And fuck Nolan too; I always knew you were too good for him.” She added, wiping my tears.

I cried myself to sleep at her apartment. When I woke up the next morning, I saw tonnes of missed calls, all from Nolan and none from my sister, and I was not surprised.

Days blurred together as I avoided Nolan’s calls and avoided my apartment. When the weekend of the trip arrived, I stared at the plane tickets on the coffee table.

I had decided on cancelling the trip, but Sicily had told me not to let Nolan ruin my Christmas and my plans for the holiday.

She could have gone with me in place of Nolan, but her overbearing boss, where she interns as a fashion stylist, would not allow her.

“Go,“ Sicily urged, sitting beside me. “Who knows, you might meet someone new there,” Sicily tried to cheer me up.

“You know Bali is famous for hot guys,” she had said with a smile, encouraging me to go for my vacation.

I took Sicily’s advice, packed my luggage, and headed for Bali. When I landed in Bali, I took a cab to the cabin, and while we drove through, the scent of pine trees and freshly baked cookies wafting through the air reminded me of my hometown.

By the time I reached the cabin, it was already late at night. I was tired and worn out from the journey. However, the sight of the cabin was a delight to behold, and for a moment, I was glad Sicily convinced me to come.

The place was cosy and like a dream. The walls were made of polished cedar. A stone fireplace dominated the living area, the crackling fire casting a golden glow across the room. And for a moment, I felt a peaceful chill run down my spine.

However, I noticed the lights were left on, a rich expensive perfume filled the air and clothes were draped across the couch, and a pair of boots were scattered across the room. It left me wondering if the previous guest had forgotten their things.

I was too tired to check out the place, so I headed into one of the rooms, took a warm shower and collapsed into bed.

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of scrambled eggs and freshly baked bread. I grabbed a t-shirt to wear, then walked lazily to the kitchen, feeling dazed and my hair in a mess. I froze in the doorway.

A shirtless man stood at the stove, headphones on, moving with practised ease. He turned, meeting my wide-eyed stare.

I screamed, snatching a spoon from the counter, and held it out towards him. “Who are you?”