Snow came early that year.
It painted the streets of Toronto in soft white silence, the kind of quiet that felt beautiful from the outside, but suffocating when you were stuck behind glass, watching your world freeze.
Jade stood by the window of their apartment, one hand on her small but growing bump, the other wrapped around a lukewarm cup of tea she hadn't touched in an hour.
Cole wasn't home. Again.
The clock read 9:47 PM.
The table was set. Dinner sat untouched. The candles had already melted into wax puddles.
She didn't bother reheating the food this time.
They barely spoke anymore.
When Cole did come home, he stayed just long enough to shower and collapse on the bed, his bed, never hers.
She tried, in the beginning.
Asked about his day. Made small talk about the news. Even showed him one of her old songs once, playing it softly on the keyboard in the guest room.
He'd glanced up from his laptop for a whole three seconds.
"It's fine," he said flatly. "Can you keep it down?"
And that was that.
One afternoon, Jade brought him lunch at his office.
She wore her nicest coat, did her makeup the way he used to like when she was still on magazine covers. She walked through the lobby with a smile, holding a neatly packed lunch box with a handwritten note tucked inside.
The receptionist barely glanced at her.
"Mrs. Blaine?" she said, blinking like the title didn't fit. "He's in a meeting."
"I don't mind waiting."
"He's in a meeting… with Miss Blake."
Jade's smile faltered.
Vivien.
Of course.
She sat in the lounge for two hours. Lunch went cold.
When Cole finally emerged with Vivien trailing behind him, laughing at something he said—he stopped short when he saw Jade sitting there.
She stood, lifting the bag.
"I thought you might be hungry…"
His expression tightened. "I told you not to come here without telling me first."
The words were quiet. Clipped. Enough to be polite, not enough to be kind.
Vivien's smile lingered, even as she stepped away. "Oh, Jade," she said sweetly, eyes drifting to Jade's stomach. "You're… still pregnant. That's so brave of you."
Jade swallowed. "Thank you."
"You know," Vivien continued casually, "some women think babies can fix relationships. But I think it just makes things messier."
Cole didn't stop her.
Didn't correct her.
Didn't defend his wife.
Jade handed him the lunch without another word.
She left before the tears came.
That night, Cole didn't come home.
By the end of her second trimester, Jade began to lose weight. She couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. She would sit on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, pressing her forehead to her knees, whispering apologies to the baby she wasn't sure she was strong enough to carry anymore.
She went to her first prenatal checkup alone.
When the doctor asked if the father would be joining them next time, she smiled and lied.
"He's just busy," she said. "But he cares."
The doctor only nodded, eyes too kind.
One night, a snowstorm blanketed the city. Power flickered in and out, and the apartment grew cold.
Jade lit candles, wrapped herself in three blankets, and sat by the heater with her swollen feet propped up.
Cole came home just after midnight, dusting snow off his coat.
"You could've called," he muttered, barely glancing her way.
"I tried," she said softly. "I—I think the signal's down. It's really cold in here…"
He walked past her. Into the bedroom. Shut the door.
She sat there, candlelight flickering over her face, realizing she didn't even expect comfort from him anymore.
She just wanted to be seen.
Just once.
Even in the dark.
But the ice between them wasn't temporary anymore.
It was the kind that didn't melt with time.
It only grew thicker.
Layer by layer.
Until she began to wonder if maybe she'd frozen too.