I Kneel in Snow, He Calls It Love

The first time Christopher and I truly saw each other for who we were came five years into our marriage.

He was furious. "Gina, do you have to throw yourself at me every single day? Do you even know what a platonic relationship means?"

I blinked myself awake—I'd fallen asleep in the bathtub, completely exhausted.

Before I could say a word, he pulled on his clothes, dragged me outside—still naked—and snarled, "If you love being naked so much, why not enjoy the fresh air?"

He didn't care that I was begging. He didn't care that it was the middle of winter. He even called the household staff to come watch. It wasn't until I collapsed with a high fever that he finally let me go.

Half-delirious and burning up, I stumbled toward the medicine cabinet—only to hear heavy breathing coming from his room.

I peeked through the crack in the door and saw him tangled in the sheets… with my widowed sister-in-law.

So that was his idea of "platonic love."

Barely able to stand, I staggered back to my room and called his mother, Jill. "Mom, remember when you suggested Chris could 'honor both families'? I'm ready to agree—but I have one condition."

Jill went quiet, clearly shocked—then her voice lit up with excitement. "Gina, are you serious? You'd really share him? You're not just saying that to make your old mother-in-law feel better in the middle of the night, are you? Name your condition—I'll agree to anything!"

I stared up at the ceiling, silent tears rolling down my cheeks.

The first time my mother-in-law floated that ridiculous idea—that Christopher should "take care of both households"—I was so angry I smashed a teacup.

She wanted me to give up my husband so Natalie, her widowed daughter-in-law, could stay in the family and "carry on the line."

How could I ever agree to something like that?

But now… what did it matter? They were already sneaking around behind my back. Whether I agreed or not changed nothing.

The man who once swore he loved me, who spoke so beautifully about us pursuing a higher love… was tainted.

How ironic. When he dragged me—naked and humiliated—into the freezing cold to "punish" me, he had the nerve to say I was the one ruining his ideal of love.

Everyone in the Capital saw us as the perfect couple. Even I believed it. I thought that even without sex, what we had was beautiful. Pure.

That illusion shattered completely—irreversibly—the moment I heard those breathy moans drifting from the guest room. I could still hear them, faint but unmistakable.

I let out a bitter laugh and whispered into the phone, "No, I'm not just humoring you. I really agree. But Christopher has to sign a document."

Her voice turned shrill with excitement. "Yes! Of course! I knew you were a sensible girl, Gina! First thing tomorrow, I'll talk to Chris. I promise—it's just so Nata can have a baby. You two will still be that perfect couple everyone admires!"

After I hung up, I curled into a ball.

Even with the heat cranked up and buried under blankets, I couldn't stop shaking. Not from the cold—but from the sounds coming through the wall.

They didn't stop until almost dawn. Every moan, every creak of the bed, felt like a knife slowly twisting in my chest.