Adrian opened the front door just as the first pale light of dawn touched the snow.
Irina stood on the porch, barely able to stand. Her legs trembled violently, thighs still slick and marked with glowing silver frost patterns from Erwin's brutal claiming. Her sweater was crooked, hair wild and tangled, lips swollen, cheeks flushed with the afterglow of the most intense, shattering sex she had ever experienced. The silver shimmer on her skin glowed brighter than ever, spreading visibly up her arms and across her collarbone. She looked wrecked — thoroughly used, claimed, and destroyed by winter.
Adrian's face went white with horror.
"Irina—" His voice cracked. He lunged forward, catching her before her knees gave out completely. "What did you do to yourself! Oh god! That monster destroyed you!"
He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her inside as if she weighed nothing. His hands shook as he laid her gently on the couch, eyes wide with panic and raw pain as they roamed over her body — the glowing runes, the bite marks, the way she winced when she tried to move her legs.
"Jesus Christ… look at you," he whispered, voice breaking. Jealousy and anger flashed across his face, mixing with the deep, devastating worry. "He did this to you? That icy bastard used you like some kind of toy and left you like this? After everything I've done for you? After I burned my own spark for years just to keep you safe?"
Irina's eyes filled with tears. The guilt was unbearable now. She reached for his hand, but he pulled back slightly, chest heaving.
"I'm sorry, Adrian," she whispered, voice trembling. "I'm so sorry… I think I love him."
The words landed like a blade.
Adrian froze. The color drained from his face completely. For a long moment he just stared at her, the man who had fought winter itself for her, who had loved her through every nightmare and every cold night, now completely shattered.
"You… love him?" His voice was barely a whisper, broken and disbelieving. "After everything? After I gave you five years of my life? After I sacrificed my own warmth so you wouldn't fade? After I held you every night while you cried from the dreams? He will hurt you, Irina. He will drain you dry. He will turn you into something that isn't even human anymore. He's not capable of real love — only possession. He'll lock you in that palace and watch you disappear piece by piece."
Irina's tears fell freely now. "He won't," she said softly, voice cracking with pain and honesty. "I know it sounds insane… but he won't. I just… I wanted this. I needed to feel it one last time. I'm sorry, Adrian. I never wanted to hurt you like this."
Adrian collapsed to his knees in front of the couch, burying his face in his hands. The heartbreak was visible — raw, crushing, the kind of pain that could break a man. He had tried so hard. He had loved her so completely. And now the woman he had fought the entire winter for was slipping away.
The next few days were pure agony.
Adrian refused to give up. He took her on a trip — a desperate, last-ditch attempt to remind her of the life they had built. They drove to a small cabin in the mountains, far from the river and the palace. He cooked her favorite meals, lit fires every night, took her on long walks through the thawing forest. He tried to be close physically — gentle kisses, warm hands sliding under her clothes, trying to make love to her with all the tenderness and passion he still possessed. But Irina gently denied him every time, pulling away with tears in her eyes.
"I can't," she whispered one night, when his hands were on her breasts and his mouth was on her neck. "Not right now. I'm sorry."
Adrian stopped immediately, pulling back with a heartbroken nod. He tried to love her without touching — reading to her by the fire, holding her while they watched the snow fall outside, telling her stories of their early days together. He brought her flowers, made her laugh with old jokes, stayed up all night just talking.
Nothing worked.
Irina's smiles were small and distant. Her eyes were always somewhere else — lost in memories of luminous pale skin and cold hands that had once made her feel completely claimed. She felt lost, drifting between two worlds, guilt eating her alive every time she looked at the man who had given her everything.
Back home, their families noticed immediately.
Elena and Maria exchanged worried glances whenever Irina stared out the window with that faraway look. Viktor pulled Adrian aside one evening, gruff and concerned: "She's not herself, son. She's fading again. Do something." Baba Olga simply watched her with ancient, sad eyes and whispered, "The heart wants what the heart wants… even when it breaks others."
Adrian tried everything.
But Irina was already slipping away.
The pull toward Erwin — toward the eternal cold that had always been waiting for her — had grown too strong.
To be continued....