Snowflakes & Secrets.

5.

Frozen. My feet felt rooted to the pavement, my chest tightened like a vice, and the cold air of Collen bit through my coat but barely registered. I barely noticed Ivan and Jessy stepping ahead of me; my attention was locked on the figures standing in the entryway of the CPS building. The two people who had made my life a living hell once were now standing in front of me. Older than the last time I had seen them. Almost run down, haggard, and tired. Mr. and Mrs. Del Castro.

They looked as if the world had stopped. Pale, stiff, frozen, like they had truly seen a ghost. My stomach twisted at the sight. My heart thumped violently, but not in surprise, it was fury, raw and bitter. Every memory I’d buried for ten years rose up like a tidal wave, crashing over me in seconds. I saw them, and it all came back. I remembered everything. The sneering looks, the whispers that had followed me through hallways and streets. The shame they had forced me to swallow. The humiliation. The way they had twisted the story, painting me as a homewrecker, a gold digger, a lady of the night, a disgrace. Overnight, I had been exiled in my own town. Overnight, Collen had turned its back on me. All orchestrated by the two people in front of me and their whole family.

And worse, they had controlled everything after the incident, the hospital, the people around me, the letters I could write, the friends I could speak to. They had even forced me to sign an NDA months later, preventing me from ever sharing what had been done to me. They had taken everything from me: my dignity, my home, my name, my place in the town, even my family. And here they were, standing in front of me, pretending to be… normal. As if nothing had happened. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them what I thought of them. I wanted to spit out every name they had called me over the years and tell them that their carefully polished, cold smiles were nothing but lies.

But I didn’t. I clenched my fists at my sides, feeling the leather of my gloves dig into my palms. Ivan stepped forward instinctively, placing a hand on my elbow. “River,” he said quietly, almost cautiously. His gaze flicked toward his parents, and I caught the brief shadow of confusion there. He didn’t understand their reaction, and from the way his eyes narrowed, I knew his curiosity was growing. He didn’t yet know what they had done to me, or what part, if any, he had played. I didn’t care. I didn’t want him to know. They were all the same. I bet Ivan had known about what happened months later at the hospital but never did anything too. Instead, he chose to stand by his parents.

Jessy tugged at my hand. “Come on, River! Breakfast?” she said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension radiating from the adults.

I froze. Breakfast. My instinct was to refuse. I could not sit at the same table as them, not after all I had endured. Not after all the years of hate and silence and secrets. But then Jessy looked up at me with those wide, trusting eyes, the little brown curls bouncing slightly as she gripped my hand, and I felt a pang in my chest.

“Please?” she whispered.

I swallowed my pride and nodded. For her, I could endure a little longer. I let Ivan lead the way, and I followed silently, keeping my gaze averted from his parents. My stomach churned with unease, my chest heavy with memories I had tried so hard to lock away.

The diner smelled of coffee and fried eggs and pancakes, mundane, safe smells, but they did nothing to settle my nerves. I could see the Del Castros’ eyes on me even as we were seated, sharp and calculating, thinly veiled with politeness. Every sip of coffee felt like fire in my mouth. Every glance from them reminded me of Collen, of the whispers, of the hospital bed where I had woken up under medication to find them gone, the power they wielded over me, the fear they had instilled.

Ivan noticed my silence. “River,” he asked gently, leaning a little closer across the table. “Are you… okay? You’re… quiet.”

I forced a smile, one that barely touched my eyes. “I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice clipped, rehearsed. “Just… tired, I guess.”

He didn’t seem convinced. His dark eyes lingered on mine, searching, and I quickly looked away. I could feel his protective instinct simmering beneath the surface, and part of me was grateful, though it only made the memories sharper, more unbearable. He didn’t know how much I hated everything and everyone in this town, how deep the scars ran, how impossible it had been to look at anyone without feeling the weight of their judgment.

His parents, on the other hand, seemed almost frozen in their own discomfort. I watched them carefully. They were still adjusting to the shock of seeing me, of realizing that the ghost they had presumed dead, or at least erased from their lives, was very much alive and sitting inches away from them. I could see the guilt flicker in their eyes, mixed with fear and, somehow, shame. It made me want to laugh bitterly. The audacity. Breakfast proceeded mostly in awkward silence. I took tiny bites, barely tasting the food. Jessy chattered softly, trying to fill the air with normalcy, and Ivan engaged with his parents just enough to make conversation, but I barely listened. I was too busy reliving Collen in every detail, the way I had been dragged through the streets, the whispers behind my back, the names, the betrayal, the humiliation.

I wondered if Ivan had been involved. Of course he had. How could he not have been? They were his parents. They were his family. And yet, he had vanished that night, leaving me to face the storm alone. I had never forgiven him for that. Not completely. Not ever.

And still… there was the other memory, burning brighter than anything else. That night we had spent together, a night I had never forgotten, never could forget. The way he had been protective, tender, commanding, and yet always careful, always checking if I was okay, always making sure I was… satisfied.

That night, I had fallen for him completely. And then morning came, and reality hit me like a hammer. We had never spoken of it, and I had never told Geff or Naomi either. It was a secret I carried alone, one that made my heart ache every time I saw him. The next morning, we had gone back to the normal Ivan and River throwing insults and humiliating each other. But even then, that night had left a mark on me, one that could never be erased. He was his parents' son, and I hated them to the core, all of his family. They pretended to be angels to hide their true evil.

I sipped my coffee, my hand trembling slightly. Ivan noticed, of course, and reached out to steady my cup, his thumb brushing mine. The gesture made my heart stutter, but I could not let him see that. I could not let him know how much that night had left its mark on me.

“So,” Ivan’s father said abruptly, breaking through my thoughts. “Geff and Naomi… they left the custody of Jessy to both of you, correct?”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My pulse quickened, my stomach turned. They were supposed to fear me, to hate me for returning, and suddenly I understood: the very idea of me being trusted with Jessy, legally, horrified them. I caught the flash of panic and horror in their eyes, and it gave me a small, terrible satisfaction. I wondered what they had been hiding from me all these years. What else were they terrified I would uncover? Ivan’s eyes flicked to his parents, narrowing slightly. Something clicked in his gaze, a spark of suspicion. He saw what I saw, the panic, the fear, the guilt. And in that moment, I realized he had no idea what really happened ten years ago, not the months in the hospital, not the NDA, not the whispers and threats. Only bits and pieces from town rumors.

For the first time in ten years, I let doubt kick in. Had he really been aware and let all that happen to me? Even if they hadn't been close, Ivan had always been a fair person. Had I let hatred for his family cloud my judgment and hated him too for no reason? Could I understand? Would he be able to protect Jessy, and me, from them?

The meal continued, mostly Ivan and his parents carrying the conversation. Jessy occasionally spoke up, her small voice adding innocence and softness to the tension, but mostly, I sat quietly, absorbing the memories, the betrayal, the humiliation. I hated Collen. I hated them. I hated the way the town had turned its back on me. Every bite of toast felt like I was swallowing fire, every glance from his parents like a needle under my skin. And through it all, Ivan kept sneaking glances at me, curiosity and concern written across his face. I tried to cover it, to stay composed, but he noticed. Of course he did.

Finally, breakfast drew to a close. I stood stiffly, gathering my coat and bag, every muscle taut with the effort of pretending I was okay. Jessy tugged at my sleeve.

“Can you come with us to Grandma and Grandpa’s house?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

I froze. My heart twisted painfully. No. I could not. Not now. Not with them there. I smiled faintly, forcing a warmth I did not feel. Long ago, that question wouldn’t have bothered her that much. She had been in Ivan's family home on so many occasions growing up. Geff and she had spent most of their time there doing homework, getting up to no good, and also putting the staff through hell. There were times she enjoyed being invited over, but this time wasn’t the case.

“I… I have some work I need to finish,” I said softly. “I’ll come another time, okay?”

Jessy’s shoulders slumped slightly, and I felt a pang of guilt, but I couldn’t betray myself.

Ivan’s jaw tightened beside me, and I could feel the disappointment radiating from him, though he said nothing. His eyes met mine briefly, a silent question, a silent plea. I looked away, unable to meet him, not yet. Not while the ghosts of the past were still hovering over this table, over this town, over everything we had once shared.

As we stepped out of the diner into the crisp winter air, I felt the weight of every memory pressing down on me. Collen, the Del Castros, the whispered accusations, the hospital bed, the NDA, the lost years, it was all there, raw and unyielding.

Jessy skipped ahead, oblivious to the storm around us, and I walked behind, my mind a whirlwind of anger, fear, and longing. Ivan stayed close, protective, silent, and I knew one thing for certain: history might have hurt me once, but I was determined it would not happen again.