When Chloe Reed returned to Jardinelle, she saw Walker Grant standing in the courtyard. Though the ground was slick with melting snow, fresh flakes were now settling on his head.
He wore a black overcoat, with white gauze wrapped around his eyes. His tall figure stood amidst the withered garden, as if he had been abandoned there.
Chloe Reed slowed her steps, feeling an inexplicable sense of pity for him.
He seemed to hear her footsteps and turned his head slightly toward the sound. A faint curve touched his pale, thin lips.
"Chloe, it’s snowing."
Chloe Reed walked over and typed a question on her phone: "It’s so cold. Why are you outside?"
Walker Grant spoke, his voice low and unhurried. "I heard them say it was snowing, and it reminded me of that winter we went skiing. You didn’t know how back then, so I was teaching you. We both ended up tumbling down the mountain. We were such a mess."
Chloe Reed’s gaze dropped at his words. She remembered that time, too.
Before the Lunar New Year, they had gone there on a date. It ended with her breaking her lower leg. He carried her down the mountain on his back the whole way, and she spent seven days in the hospital. After that, she never wanted to ski again.
That winter had been far colder than this one, with much thicker snow, but she hadn’t noticed any of it at the time. All she was aware of was the pain in her leg and how she whimpered coquettishly on his back.
’How long ago was that?’
’Six years now, wasn’t it?’
’Back in college, when our love was at its sweetest.’
Chloe Reed lowered her gaze, her fingers tapping lightly on the screen. She typed, "I don’t remember."
Walker Grant lowered his head, his voice turning crestfallen. "How could you not remember? Back then, you..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Chloe Reed took his hand and started leading him toward the villa.
Her hand, which had been tucked in her coat pocket, was faintly warm, while his was cool. Not only did she fail to pass her warmth to him, but the chill from his fingertips seemed to seep into her own.
Walker Grant understood her unspoken message.

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