A Frozen Man's Sun

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The front door opened, and Mama all but leapt to her feet.

"Flemeral! I'm so glad you accepted our invitation. You have no idea how much we missed you!"

Her joy filled the air, warm and unrestrained.

Flemeral Lenessia stepped inside, a rolling suitcase trailing behind her. Her smile brightened the room, though there was something heavier in her eyes—experience, growth, perhaps even secrets. Three years in Canada had transformed her. She had gone abroad as a student chasing photography, and she returned a woman.

"Hello, Auntie. I'm happy to see you too." She leaned in to kiss Mama on the cheek before her gaze shifted to me. "Hi, Ice."

My response was nothing more than a curt nod. She stood there as if nothing had ever happened, as if that night we never spoke of was buried and forgotten. Maybe she wanted it that way. But she left without a word, without closure, and that silence still clawed at me.

Mama clasped her hands together, beaming. "How was your stay in Vancouver?"

"It was wonderful," Flemeral said with an easy laugh. "I made plenty of friends. But you can't escape homesickness, Auntie. That's why I'm so glad to be home now. I'm not going back this time—I'm staying for good."

They fell quickly into conversation, catching up on the years lost. I slipped toward the dining hall where the scent of roasted meat, garlic, and freshly baked bread drifted through the air. Dad was already seated at the head of the table, his posture straight, his eyes reflecting the pride of a host.

The table was overflowing—platters of food lined from end to end, enough to feed a street full of guests rather than one returning visitor. I sank into my chair without a word, drumming my fingers on the polished wood.

Mama and Flemeral soon joined.

Dad stood immediately when he saw her. "Flemeral, my dear!" His smile was warm as he embraced her, fatherly and welcoming. "It has been far too long. Welcome home."

"Thank you, Uncle."

One of the maids moved to pull out a chair for her, but Flemeral refused gently and drew it out herself. She sat directly across from me, the long table a deliberate barrier between us.

Her eyes flicked up to my hair. "So, Ice... you dyed it white?"

"Obviously," I replied, flat and clipped.

The silence that followed was sharp. She laughed softly, almost amused at my bluntness.

Dad cleared his throat, his stare cutting toward me. Be polite, his expression warned. She is our guest.

Flemeral tilted her head. "Maybe I should dye mine too."

Mama seized the chance to recover the mood. "Oh, dear, I was horrified when he first came home with that hair. I nearly fainted! He didn't listen to me at all. Too eager to look like a grandfather, with all those white strands!" She sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest.

I speared a piece of roast meat with my fork. "Are we going to eat, or talk about my hair all night? Because I'm starving."

Their awkward chuckles didn't stop me from filling my plate. At least food couldn't betray me the way people could.

Halfway through the meal, Flemeral's voice slipped into the air. "Ice, will you take me home after dinner?"

I looked at her, then said plainly, "No."

Dad's smile didn't falter. He turned to Flemeral instead. "Actually, he will." His gaze swung back to me, sharp as a blade. One arched brow. One unspoken order.

"Fine." I stabbed another bite of meat and shoved it into my mouth.

Dinner went on, filled with Flemeral's stories of Canada—her friends, the winters she hated, the nights she stayed awake editing photographs until dawn. Everyone was captivated. Everyone except me. I kept my head down, chewing, but every so often her eyes lingered, watching me like she knew I was pretending not to listen.

When dessert arrived-a perfect cheesecake Mama had baked—Flemeral checked her watch. "It's getting late, Uncle, Auntie. I should be going home now."

Mama smiled warmly. "You're right, dear. Ice will drive you."

Flemeral thanked them softly.

"I'll get my keys," I muttered, leaving for my room.

Upstairs, I grabbed my car keys from the desk. When I turned, she was there. Standing outside my door. Waiting.

"I told you I'd just get my keys," I said.

"And your parents told me to come with you." She smiled faintly, then glanced past me into my room. "Still the same."

I closed the door behind me, locking her out of that private space, and stared down at her. "What are you planning, Eral?"

"Nothing," she said, but the glint in her eyes told another story.

I didn't push. I simply walked past her, down the stairs. Mama and Dad waited on the porch, sending us off like parents watching children head to prom.

"Have a safe trip," Dad said, though his eyes lingered on me. "Ice—make sure she gets home safely."

I nodded once and strode into the garage. The car door slammed shut as I slid into the driver's seat. Flemeral followed, settling into the passenger side with a smile too calm for the storm I felt brewing.

I started the engine, the purr of it dragging me into memory. This car. The tinted windows. The leather seats. My grip on the wheel tightened. This was where everything happened.

I shook my head and drove out of the garage.

"How's your modeling career?" she asked after a stretch of silence.

"Fine," I said, eyes fixed on the road.

Another silence. Then her voice softened. "I remember this car."

"I didn't ask," I muttered.

"I remember everything." She turned her head toward me, her smile thinner now, brittle at the edges. "You drugged me that night."

"Yes. I did."

Her breath caught. "I wish you had denied it."

"You wouldn't have believed me if I did."

Her gaze sharpened, but her lips held their eerie smile. "Why don't you look sorry?"

"Why should I?" I smirked, finally glancing at her. "You never forgot. You've just been waiting—for the right moment, for us to be alone."

"Jerk."

"I know." I downshifted, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead. "Let's forget it. It's been years."

Her laugh was low, but there was no humor in it. "I don't forget easily, Ice. You took my virginity." Her whisper was a blade against my skin. "Now I'll take something from you. I'll take your heart."

She smiled then—confident, terrifying. "And I'll never give it back."

"Sweetheart..." I kept my eyes on the asphalt, my knuckles white around the wheel. "I don't have a heart."

The car sped into the night, silence pressing between us like a third passenger, heavy with promises neither of us intended to keep.