12. Alex

12

ALEX

T he cabin felt colder now. The fire, though still crackling, no longer had the same warmth. The air was thick with a silence that pressed against Alex’s chest, as though it were trying to suffocate her. She stared into the flickering embers, the glow casting shadows that danced across the walls like ghosts, reminders of what was lost.

Vivienne was gone.

It wasn’t just her absence in the physical space that hurt; it was the emptiness she left behind. Alex could still see her—Vivienne’s laughter, the way her blue eyes softened when Alex had caught her gaze, the way her delicate hands had fit so easily into Alex’s, like they had always belonged there. The memory of Vivienne’s smooth, warm touch lingered on her skin, a feeling she didn’t want to forget.

But now, the cabin felt like a tomb. The space where Vivienne had been, where they had shared everything, felt hollow. The light from the fire cast long shadows on the walls, but it was a different kind of darkness that had filled the room. The kind that didn’t have an easy escape.

The last words she had said echoed in Alex’s head, a chorus of sharp, biting tones. “This isn’t real. It’s just something that happened.”

Alex squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could squeeze the words out of existence, out of her memory. She had said that. She had pushed Vivienne away, told her that it was nothing. Had she even believed it then? She wasn’t certain anymore, but now, with Vivienne’s absence stretching out before her like a gaping hole, Alex could feel how wrong it had been.

How wrong she had been.

Her fingers curled into the quilt wrapped around her shoulders, the fabric soft against her skin, Vivienne’s fresh scent lingering, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in her chest. She remembered how it felt to have Vivienne close, how easy it had been to forget the world outside the cabin when they were together. That warmth, that feeling of belonging—it was all gone now.

Why had she done it?

She could still feel the warmth of Vivienne’s touch, that softness in her gaze as they had shared everything they’d been, all the raw, unspoken moments between them. But she had let it slip away. Let her fear—of change, of vulnerability, of losing herself—dictate her actions. She had convinced herself that they were too different. That what they had was just a fleeting thing, a distraction from the life she knew.

But it wasn’t.

Her mind raced, replaying every moment they had shared, every touch and laugh, every comfortable silence that hadn’t needed words. She had allowed herself to feel it—to let her heart open up in a way she hadn’t let anyone in for years. She had let herself believe that there could be something more between them.

And now, that belief felt like a cruel joke.

Alex stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the snow-covered landscape. The trees, heavy with snow, swayed gently in the wind, their branches creaking in the quiet. The world beyond the glass seemed frozen in time. And inside, the world felt just as still.

She wanted to call out. Wanted to scream, to tell the empty room how wrong everything felt. To ask for another chance. To take back the harsh words, to undo the damage she’d done.

But there was no one left to listen.

Her eyes fell on the origami bird Vivienne had made her for Christmas. It rested on the coffee table, delicate and perfect in its simplicity, a symbol of something that had felt real when she had first received it. She had smiled so genuinely at Vivienne’s gift, touched by the thought and care behind the paper folds, though she hadn’t understood how much it would come to mean.

Alex picked up the bird carefully, as though it might crumble in her hands. The thin paper was fragile against her fingers, the sharp edges softened by the memory of Vivienne’s hands holding it. She turned it over in her palm, studying the intricate folds, the way each crease had been made with such patience.

It felt like a fragile piece of Vivienne herself.

A lump formed in Alex’s throat, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. She hadn’t wanted to care about something so fragile. But the weight of the paper in her hand felt like the weight of everything she had lost—everything she had pushed away.

The fire crackled again, the sound like a sharp reminder of the absence that now filled the room.

Alex closed her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, she could almost feel Vivienne beside her again—her breath warm against the skin of her neck, her laugh echoing softly in the quiet space. But when Alex opened her eyes, the silence returned, and Vivienne was gone.

The pain of it was physical, a tightness in her chest that made it hard to breathe. She sank down into the couch again, staring blankly at the fire, at the now cold space where Vivienne had been.

The quiet was suffocating. And in the stillness, Alex realized just how much she had allowed fear to define her. How much she had let it control her, push her away from something real. Something she wanted.

And now, she was left with nothing.

The fire crackled, and the paper bird—once a symbol of hope, of something beautiful—now felt like an anchor, weighing her down.

Alex awoke to a cabin that felt emptier than ever before. The fire in the hearth had died sometime in the night, leaving the air brittle with cold. She didn’t bother lighting it again. She didn’t see the point. The faint gray light of morning seeped through the curtains, dull and lifeless, matching the heaviness that had settled in her chest.

The days since Vivienne’s departure had blurred into one another, a monotonous routine of chores and silence. Alex moved through them like a ghost, her mind replaying every moment, every word, every mistake.

The paper bird still sat on the coffee table, exactly where she had left it. She hadn’t touched it since that first night, too afraid it would disintegrate, as fragile as her resolve. But she couldn’t bring herself to put it away either. It sat there, a quiet reminder of everything she had ruined.

She glanced at it now as she nursed a cup of lukewarm coffee, her hands wrapped tightly around the mug as though it might provide some comfort. But the heat didn’t reach her, not really.

The mornings were the hardest. Waking up and reaching for someone who wasn’t there. Remembering, all over again, that Vivienne was gone. That she had sent her away.

She tried to distract herself with work. The fence around her cabin needed repairing after the last storm, and the tool shed roof had sprung a leak, water pooling in one corner. Normally, she would have tackled these tasks with her usual determination, losing herself in the physical labor. But now, her hands faltered, her focus shattered by the thoughts that refused to leave her alone.

Alex would catch herself staring off into the distance. Images of Vivienne haunted her: the way her smile had lit up the room, the way she had thrown herself into every challenge during their time together, no matter how small, whether it was starting the fire or peeling carrots.

And the way she had looked at Alex—with trust, with hope. With something Alex hadn’t recognized at the time but now knew it was love.

The realization gnawed at her.

In the quiet of the cabin, she replayed their conversations, dissecting every word. She heard Vivienne’s voice in her head, soft and hesitant when she’d asked Alex to come with her to her SUV. The hope in her tone, the vulnerability she had laid bare. And then Alex’s response—sharp, dismissive, cruel.

She had told herself she was doing the right thing. That they were too different, that their lives would never align. But now, alone in the suffocating silence of the cabin, Alex wondered if she had been lying to herself all along.

The truth was, she was afraid.

Afraid of what Vivienne represented—change, vulnerability, the possibility of something more. Afraid of leaving the life she had built here, the one that had kept her safe and predictable for so long.

But safety had come at a cost. And now, that cost felt unbearable.

Alex found herself walking out to the woods more often, her boots crunching through the snow as she retraced the paths she and Vivienne had taken. The trees loomed tall and silent, their branches heavy with snow, and Alex couldn’t help but imagine Vivienne beside her, her cheeks pink from the cold, her laughter echoing through the forest.

She reached the spot where they had first crossed paths—the place where Alex had found Vivienne stranded, cold and frightened. The memory played out in her mind like a scene from a movie, vivid and raw.

Alex crouched down, her gloved hand brushing the ground where the snow had long since covered any trace of their meeting. She closed her eyes, the cold seeping through her jeans, and let herself feel it—the loss, the regret, the love she hadn’t been brave enough to acknowledge.

The love she had pushed away.

Back at the cabin, the afternoons dragged on as her thoughts refused to settle, no matter how busy she tried to stay.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Alex stood on the porch, watching the sky bleed into shades of pink and orange. The mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks glowing in the last light of day. It was a view she had always loved, one that had brought her peace.

But now, it felt incomplete.

The sunset reminded her of the firelight dancing on Vivienne’s skin, of the way the warmth of her presence had filled the cabin in a way the flames never could.

Alex leaned against the railing, the wood rough under her hands. For the first time in years, she felt truly lost.

Vivienne had been a storm in her life—unexpected, intense, and impossible to ignore. She had shaken everything Alex thought she knew about herself, about what she wanted, about what she was capable of feeling.

And now that the storm had passed, all that remained was the silence.

But in that silence, Alex began to hear something else.

A question.

What are you going to do about it?

The storm had fully passed, leaving a clear, crisp day in its wake. Sunlight streamed through the window, glinting off the untouched snow outside and casting fractured beams across the cabin walls. Yet inside, the air felt colder, heavier, as if Vivienne had taken all the warmth when she had left.

Alex sat at the edge of her bed, cradling a mug of coffee between her hands. The steam curled upward in lazy spirals, its faint bitterness filling the cabin. She hadn’t bothered with breakfast; the thought of eating turned her stomach. The coffee was barely warm now, more an excuse to keep her hands occupied than a source of comfort. She stared into the mug, as though the swirling liquid might offer answers she couldn’t find on her own.

Her gaze drifted to the corner of the cabin, where Vivienne’s presence still lingered in subtle ways. A faint indentation in the pillow she’d used. The mug she’d favored, now washed but not yet put away. Alex swallowed hard, the memories sharp and immediate. She could almost hear Vivienne’s voice, the teasing lilt of it, the way it softened when she spoke of things she cared about.

Alex stood in front of the small mirror above the sink, her reflection sharp and unyielding. The person staring back at her looked tired, worn thin by regret and indecision. Her hair was still damp from a quick shower, the scent of pine soap clinging faintly to her skin, but the routine had done little to clear her head.

Her gaze shifted to the window. The vast stretch of snow glistened under the sunlight, serene and unbroken. It felt like a taunt—how something so still could hold so much chaos beneath its surface. That chaos mirrored the storm still raging in her chest.

On the table behind her lay her pack and coat, waiting. The sight made her throat tighten. She had packed the essentials: a change of clothes, a few snacks, and the paper bird Vivienne had given her. The bird was tucked between her folded sweater, its edges carefully protected.

Unfolded, it would just be an ordinary scrap of paper. But folded, it carried weight—a symbol of something fragile yet enduring, a glimpse of Vivienne’s heart that Alex had struggled to hold on to.

Alex ran her fingers over the counter, her thoughts restless. She had spent days trapped in a cycle of regret, reliving every moment of Vivienne’s stay, every laugh, every glance, every argument. She had tried to convince herself it was for the best, that letting Vivienne go was the right thing to do, for both of them. But that lie had worn thin, leaving her raw and exposed.

She turned back to the mirror, studying her reflection. Her own face felt unfamiliar, marked by the weight of emotions she had spent years suppressing. She had built a life on solitude, convincing herself that love was a risk not worth taking. But now, that life felt hollow, like the snow outside—beautiful but cold, silent but suffocating.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Alex whispered, her voice breaking the stillness of the room.

Her eyes flicked to her bag again, where the paper bird was encased, protected. The gift had been unexpected, a moment of vulnerability that Alex hadn’t known how to accept. Now, it felt like a beacon, calling her toward something she wasn’t sure she deserved but couldn’t ignore.

She turned from the mirror and walked to the window, her breath fogging the glass as she leaned against it. Her mind raced with questions, doubts, fears. Would Vivienne even want to see her again? Had Alex pushed her too far away? Could love really bridge the gap between them?

Her heart ached with the uncertainty, but for the first time, it also pulsed with hope. She thought of Vivienne’s laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the things she loved, the way she had fought through the storm with an unyielding spirit.

“I can’t let this end here,” Alex murmured, the resolve in her voice steeling her.

She turned back to the table, her movements steady now. The pack was light, but it carried the weight of a decision that felt monumental. She slung it over her shoulder, her fingers brushing against the coat’s rough fabric as she grabbed it .

Alex took one last look around the cabin. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only ashes behind. The space felt emptier than it ever had, the silence pressing in on her.

“This isn’t home anymore,” she said softly, her words a farewell.

As she stepped outside, the cold air hit her, sharp and bracing. The mountains stood tall and indifferent, their snowy peaks piercing the blue sky. The path before her was uncertain, but for the first time, she didn’t feel afraid.

Alex zipped her coat and adjusted the pack on her shoulder. She had no idea what waited for her in New York, no guarantees that Vivienne would even hear her out. But she knew one thing for certain: She couldn’t stay here, trapped by her own fear.

Not anymore.

With one final glance at the cabin that had been her fortress for years, Alex started down the path, her boots crunching against the snow. The weight in her chest lifted slightly with each step, replaced by something unfamiliar but welcome.

Hope.