A Frozen Man's Sun

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Eral and I had already confessed everything to her parents over Skype. At first, their reaction was nothing like my parents'. There was no laughter, no excitement. Only the sharp, heavy tone of anger cutting through the screen. I could feel the disappointment in their voices like knives. But eventually, after a long, awkward silence, they softened. They accepted it, maybe because they realized there was no undoing what had already been done. When they learned we were engaged, they announced they would return from Canada to the Philippines to see it through. And so they did.

One week after my proposal, I bought a house. Eral had no idea. She thought I was still bouncing between my parents' place and hers, but in reality, I'd been pouring my savings into a home for us. I stopped going back to her parents' house at night, though I visited daily to take care of her. Our families had met formally, and both sides were buzzing with anticipation for the wedding. My cousins called, even Cloud, who couldn't resist verifying if the news was real.

The wedding was set for a month away. Close enough that every day felt like a countdown.

At one family dinner, Tita Freia—Eral's mother—eyed me with that curious smile of hers. "Ice, why on earth did you dye your hair white?"

I felt all eyes on me: Mama, Papa, Eral, and Tito Emerald, who sat quietly as usual, opposite his talkative wife. I set my fork down and leaned back. "I have a serious obsession with white hair."

Tita Freia tilted her head, waiting.

"Well..." I muttered, lowering my voice like I was admitting a sin. "I'm a Jack Frost fan."

Eral narrowed her eyes at me immediately. "Don't tell me you named our baby Frost because of Jack Frost?"

There she was again—quick to flare up over the smallest things. Pregnancy amplified everything. She hated being reminded of her growing belly, hated the thought that I might see her differently. Once, she even broke down, whispering that maybe I wouldn't love her anymore because she was no longer "slim." I'd told her the truth—her body wasn't what I was in love with. And, more than that, there was nothing sexier than the woman carrying my child.

"Relax," I said, raising both hands like I was surrendering. "My name is Ice. Frost is related to Ice. And your first initial is F. It matches. Perfect logic."

"Perfect nonsense." She glared.

"I'm deadly serious."

She groaned and looked away while Tita Freia chuckled and changed the subject, asking my father about his brothers. Papa shrugged. "I'm not sure. But I know the businesses of all three keep expanding."

After dinner, both families lingered, chatting about details until it was time to leave.

The days blurred. Each passing week pulled us closer to the altar. Guest lists, fittings, names of best men and bridesmaids, ring bearers and flower girls—every detail had to be perfect. Eral kept threatening to postpone, pouting that she wanted the wedding after she gave birth, so she'd feel "sexy" again. I told her she was already perfect. She didn't believe me.

One week before the wedding, Cloud arrived. He sulked for days because Mama teased him nonstop about being "beaten" by his younger brother in settling down. After him came the rest of my father's brothers, with their sons—Thunder and Tornado, Hunter and King, Ink and Chain. Our bloodline filled every corner of the house.

Then the day came.

I stood at the altar, the church blazing in white. My hair stayed the color of snow despite my mother's protests. She wanted it black for tradition's sake. I wanted to look like myself.