A Frozen Man's Sun

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I couldn't believe it. This was her wedding. Her.

That fucking woman who never deserved my love. The same woman who carved the warmth out of me, who made me doubt everything—my worth, my trust, even life itself.

I drew in a long breath, trying to steady myself, though each exhale came out jagged. She didn't see me. Not yet. I was only a shadow against the side aisle, tucked in the corner of the cathedral. From where I stood, I watched every step she took down the red-carpeted aisle, every smile she flashed like a blade twisting in my gut.

Each cheerful stride of hers was matched by the hard glare in my eyes.

Fuck you, Lessandra. I hope you can feel it. I hope, somehow, you hear me.

I was so locked in my stare that I flinched when a warm hand closed around mine.

"Why are you looking at the bride like that? Your eyes look... cruel," Eral whispered beside me, her camera clicking as she captured the moment from angles no one else noticed.

"Nothing." My voice came out like frost.

"You're acting strange," she pressed, glancing at me from behind her lens. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head without answering. Instead, I turned and slipped quietly out the side door we'd entered earlier. The cool air hit me like a slap. I hadn't realized Eral followed until I felt her presence at my back.

"You're one of the photographers here," I told her flatly as I faced her. "You can't just leave in the middle of the wedding. Go back inside and do your job. I'll wait in the car. Don't worry—I won't leave you here. You can trust me on that."

Her lips softened into a smile. She nodded and returned inside, leaving me alone with the ghost clawing at my chest.

I walked back to my car and slipped inside, shutting the door like I was locking the world out. I closed my eyes and the past crashed against me like a tide I had no strength to resist.

"I'm Lessandra. You're Ice, right?"

A girl had approached me that day, sunlight bending against her pale skin. I'd just finished a photo session and was catching my breath, knowing another shoot waited around the corner. She was tall but not taller than me, her complexion fair—almost foreign in its clarity.

I only nodded, barely curious, until she smiled. Damn... she was beautiful.

"What?" I asked, my voice cool as always.

"We're partners for the next shoot," she explained, eyes glinting with enthusiasm. "I'm new to modeling, so I hope you can give me some tips later."

"You didn't attend the seminar?" I raised an eyebrow.

She laughed, sheepish. "Well, I did... but I kind of fell asleep during the lecture."

I shook my head, half amused. "Just be natural. Blend with the background or the subject. Look elegant. And most importantly, follow the photographer's direction."

She nodded, her grin widening. Before I could say more, Manager Ris called us both over. "Let's go," she said brightly, tugging me forward.

I remembered the way I chuckled under my breath. Back then, I was still a man who believed easily, who fell too hard and too fast. We became co-models for months. And then I fell—not just a stumble, but a freefall. I thought she fell with me.

When she said yes after I asked her out, I was the happiest man alive. For two years, we were together. Two years I thought were real.

But somewhere along the line, the weight in her face, the swelling curve of her stomach... even Manager Ris noticed during one shoot. I convinced myself it was nothing, just weight gain. Denial is a comfortable poison.