Marcus sighed, his bitterness barely held in check.
“I… I told you, I’m just scared,” Sophie whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “After all these years, what if you’ve changed? I only worry because you’ve spent three years working side by side with her every single day. How could I not?”
Gently, Marcus turned her tear-streaked face toward him. The sharp scent of alcohol still clung to her skin. Her cheeks were flushed and wet, her eyes swollen. She looked utterly fragile—broken in a way that twisted something deep inside him.
This was the same woman who had once carried him on her back for three days and nights through a raging blizzard. The resilient girl who had saved his life when he was only six. Now she seemed so delicate in his hands.
He remembered it vividly: the winter cam
