Chapter 2
1395 Words
Hazel’s pov
“What?” I yelled.
He let out a dry laugh, gesturing towards the ring. “I told you I just proposed to Zora.” He moved closer to me, his lips inches from mine. “Are you that desperate? You still want to stay with me despite me wanting to marry someone else.”
Something inside me snapped.
I slapped him.
It seemed like time stopped in that moment.
His face darkened.
Without a word, he grabbed my arm and shoved me hard.
I stumbled past the living room, my shoulder grazing the wall, my heels slipping on the polished floor. I barely caught myself; I gasped for air.
“Holden—”
He didn’t even look at me. He opened the door and pushed me through it.
I crashed onto the porch; the frozen wood stung my palms as I landed.
“The papers will be on your doorstep by noon tomorrow,” he said flatly.
Then the door started to close.
Zora’s face appeared in the crack, her lips curled in a smile. “Do us a favor, Hazel,” she said sweetly. “Die out there.”
The door slammed shut.
The lock clicked, and my coat, phone, and everything I owned were inside.
I pounded on the door. “Holden! Holden, don’t do this! Please!”
Nothing, no answer. Just the wind, rising and falling.
I tried searching for vehicles but I couldn’t see anything. No tire tracks, no sign of life. Just the roar of the storm and the sting of the snow as it clung to my thin dress. The blizzard was getting harsher and harsher by the minute.
I had no way out, no phone to call, and no one was coming.
Each step away from the house felt like walking into nothing.
The trees bent in the storm, their branches shaking under the weight of snow. They looked like they were surrendering too. I wasn’t the only one giving up.
I couldn’t stop shaking. My teeth clattered like shattered glass. My knees buckled and I collapsed, hitting the snow hard.
I tried to push up. My hands wouldn’t move. My arms gave out.
My cheeks freezing, everywhere was cold. So cold.
The kind of cold that sinks into your bones. I turned to face the sky as the snow swallowed me whole.
One breath. One prayer.
Let me do it over. Just once. Let me take back what was mine.
Then—darkness.
***
Five years back in time
Wake up.
Wake up, Hazel.
I didn’t open my eyes. Until the light came on and I opened my eyes slowly.
Holden sat on the bed caressing my hand. That’s when I saw it.
A mullet.
Holden had a mullet; he didn’t even style it well.
“Ew,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
How did I ever fall for that? I stared at him like I was seeing a ghost. Or maybe I was the ghost.
“No…no, I died,” I whispered, grabbing his face with shaking hands, “I froze to death.”
Holden blinked at me. “What?”
“You’re real,” I gasped, both hands still grabbing his face. “I’m touching you. Which means I’m either in a nightmare or I’m alive.”
He pulled back, annoyed. “Seriously, what’s going on with you?”
I looked around the room. This wasn’t the mansion. The cold palace I’d gotten used to. No marble floors, no ten-foot windows. Just our apartment, the warm beige walls, the leather couch Holden insisted on buying “for the aesthetic,” and the bookshelf I built myself with uneven screws and way too much pride.
I stared at my cute sticky notes filled with words of love pasted on the wall. That’s when I realized my eyes were wide. “What’s the date? I asked.
“May 19, 2020,” he said, slowly.
I blinked.
My jaw dropped so hard it probably left a dent in the floor.
What the f**k?
Two days before our wedding. Before everything went to hell. Before they left me to drown out in the snow.
He rubbed the back of the back of his neck. “Anyway, we need to go over the guest list. I’ve been thinking…maybe your dad shouldn’t come to the wedding.”
Ah. There it was.
The sentence that began my downfall.
“Why not?” I asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear the full stupidity again.
“I mean… come on, Hazel. He’s a farmer. A guy who smells like manure and fixes tractors with duct tape isn’t really, uhm, brand-appropriate, you know?”
My jaw dropped. “Brand-appropriate?”
“You know how that looks. I have a reputation, Hazel,” he said, like this was a perfectly reasonable way to talk about someone’s father.
My stomach turned.
In my past life, I agreed. I let him uninvite my father, the one person who always believed in me. I was afraid my dad would be embarrassed and ridiculed by these people. I honestly thought I was saving him, that he wouldn’t fit in.
But now?
Now I saw it for what it was.
Selfish, cruel, and stupid.
“I just did whatever Holden said,” I scoffed to myself. “Like a puppet. But that version of me was dead, literally.”
“What?” he frowned.
I smiled. “He’s coming.”
Holden blinked. “Wait, what?”
“My dad,” I said slowly, “is coming to the wedding. You don’t get to decide that.”
“But—”
“But nothing. He’s my father. He’ll be there. And you can get over it.”
He stared like I’d just slapped him with a raw fish. “You’re… being irrational.”
“Am I?” I asked, stepping close. “Or are you just shocked that I’m finally saying no?”
He opened his mouth like he was about to protest but quickly closed it, then opened it again and nothing came out.
Honestly, it was a miracle. Highlight of my day.
“Good talk”, I said patting his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to get ready to see my father. You know to make preparations for our wedding.”
“And also–”, I said turning back at him. “Get rid of that mullet or at least style it better.”
A few hours later I found Dad by the barn, bent over a piece of old machinery with chicken feathers in his hair and oil on his jeans. He looked exactly how he always did.
“Morning, pumpkin,” he smiled.
The nickname hit me right in the heart. May 19, 2020, was the last day my father called me pumpkin in my past life, after that it was forced meetings, conversations and greetings.
I sat down on a straw bale and the second I did, the tears came. No warning, no buildup- just stupid, hot tears running down my face.
He froze, holding me gently. “Pumpkin? What’s wrong?”
“I missed you,” I choked out.
He raised an eyebrow. “Darling you saw me two days ago. You made me eat that weird quinoa thing.”
I laughed through my tears. “I know. I just … missed you differently today.”
He didn’t press. Just handed me a napkin and let me wipe my face like I hadn’t just collapsed emotionally five seconds ago.
I took a shaky breath. “So…Holden wants me to uninvite you from the wedding.”
Dad’s brow lifted. “Because of my flannel collection or the fact that I don’t pronounce ‘charcuterie’ right?”
I sniffled. “Because you’re not the kind of person he wants associated with his image.”
Dad let out a long, low whistle. “Wow. How fancy of him.”
“I told him no. I’m not uninviting you, the man that would walk me down the aisle”
He turned his head slowly, just looking at me. “You did?”
I nodded.
Something softened in his face. His voice dropped. “You never used to tell him no,”
“I know,” I said. “But I’m not the same anymore.”
- Writer
