Frost Everywhere
Language: en
I was rear-ended. The girl who hit me was a mess of frantic apologies, begging to handle it privately. When I refused, she made a call for help. Half an hour later, my husband, Sebastian, arrived at the scene. The girl was wracked with guilt, but Sebastian, my always-composed husband, was the one offering her gentle words of comfort. That’s when I realized I knew her. From the photograph he kept on his desk. The woman he fought his entire family for, long before he married me. The one that got away.