[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-2603220ECDF1-575":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},575,17,"Chapter 17: The Memory of Snow","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The idea of a honeymoon had only just occurred to her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette and Roman had married in early October, and per the Griffin family’s insistence, they had held a massive, high-profile ceremony. Afterward, V-Oasis’s VR competition system had hit a critical development phase, leaving Roman swamped and unable to step away. Naturally, the honeymoon had been pushed to the back burner.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">When Violette suddenly brought it up, she had two motives: to create some distance from Blake, and perhaps, to take a tentative step closer to Roman.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She didn't know why. She was playing the role of his wife to the best of her ability, yet their dynamic remained stubbornly stiff. To the outside world, they were a couple in sync, but Violette knew the truth: there was an invisible wall between them. Roman was like a flower viewed through a thick mist—perpetually out of reach.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She didn't truly understand him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Their daily life was more like a polite business arrangement than a marriage. For instance, when she wanted to know if he had any downtime, asking him felt like negotiating with a superior.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">What were other marriages like? Were they like hers? Or did they just pout and coax their way through life? Violette wasn't sure. She could only gaze at him, waiting for an answer. She rarely asked for anything, especially after the wedding, which only made her look all the more vulnerable and endearing in Roman’s eyes.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Whether it was the request itself or the woman standing before him, Roman found he couldn't refuse. Even though he knew his schedule was packed, he began to seriously calculate the possibilities.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He could hand off the project updates to Bradley; he could handle the rest remotely. As for the board meetings, economic forums, and summits? His vice president could stand in. And the high-stakes meeting with the city officials...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman tapped his fingers against the counter, thinking.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"It’s alright if you can’t make the time,\" Violette said, noticing his hesitation. She offered an understanding smile. \"It was just a random thought. I haven't even decided where I’d want to go.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You mentioned wanting to see snow,\" Roman replied. \"It's the perfect season for it.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Wanting to see snow?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette blinked, confused. It was true that as a lifelong resident of Deepwater, she had always wanted to see snow, but she had never mentioned it to Roman.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">How did he know that?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You’re a local yourself,\" Violette said, her tone light and teasing. \"Why are you buying into the stereotype that we southerners are obsessed with snow?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman looked at her, his voice even and steady.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"The street interview on Christmas Eve two years ago. Have you forgotten?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ah, that.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As soon as he mentioned it, a memory clicked. She had been an on-location reporter that day. Because it never snowed in Deepwater, Lakeside Plaza had staged a massive, artificial snowfall. It had drawn such a crushing, unmanageable crowd that it almost triggered a stampede. They hadn’t held an event like that in the city since.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette couldn't remember the specifics of the interview, but she recalled saying something about how much she looked forward to seeing real snow.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">That was two full years ago.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Even she, the person who had said it, had wiped the detail from her memory. How did Roman remember?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Your memory is terrifying,\" Violette said, a genuine compliment slipping out.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The water in the clay pot began to boil, the lid rattling with a rhythmic *thump-thump-thump*. The kitchen grew thick with steam, shrouding the man standing by the counter in a hazy, dreamlike blur.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"You interviewed me a week before Christmas that year,\" Roman said, his voice smooth and measured. \"I saw it on the news, so it stuck. Besides, the plaza was a disaster that day. Hard to forget.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">That made sense.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The human brain instinctively filters out the mundane and clings to the erratic or the exceptional. If you stopped a dozen people on the street, many of them would likely remember that Christmas, the plaza, and the fake snow.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman made his decision.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Switzerland,\" he asked, looking at her. \"How does that sound?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette was still reeling from the previous conversation. She paused, surprised to realize he was already planning the details.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He wasn't busy? He could actually find the time?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"A trip to Switzerland might be too much,\" she hesitated. \"Things get hectic at the station toward the end of the year. Getting extended leave won't be easy.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman nodded. \"Then we’ll stay domestic. Switzerland next time.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As he spoke, the kitchen timer began to beep.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman leaned down to turn off the heat, keeping his focus on her. \"I’m keeping the chicken tender. Does that work for you?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yes.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Violette’s voice rose on an upbeat note, answering both his questions at once.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">***\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The honeymoon was set.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The station approved her five days of leave without a second thought. Charles and Catherine were thrilled, and the Griffin family, satisfied that Roman had finally married, loosened their grip on him for the time being.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The only person left suffering was Bradley.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Why do you get to go on vacation while I’m stuck here acting as your slave?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Roman replied coldly, \"Because you aren't married.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"And you don't have leave to burn.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Bradley posted his grievances in their private group chat, but his friends offered no sympathy, instead howling with laughter. One of them even went so far as to post about it on social media.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The world was small enough that by that afternoon, Blake Pierce had seen the post through a friend of a friend.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He hadn't seen Violette since that one encounter at the tournament. He knew she didn't want to see him, but he hadn't expected her to deny him even the chance to apologize. Now, she was planning to leave the city entirely just to avoid him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">To be dodged to this extent...\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake stared down, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping him. His chest felt like it had been scoured by a freezing, barren wind. The sensation was sharper, more biting, than when he’d first heard she was married. Back then, he’d been stunned, caught in a daze, frantically scouring the V-Oasis website, desperate for any shred of evidence that it wasn't true.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">But Roman was far too low-key. Aside from a few old press releases, there was nothing on the site. Not a whisper of his private life.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">In the end, all Blake had found were the wedding photos shared by acquaintances. Under a sprawling wall of flowers, Violette had looked more beautiful than he had ever imagined, dressed in white, clutching a bouquet of lilies. But the man holding her hand wasn't him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">That moment had been the final nail in his coffin.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The gears of his world had ground to a halt.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Blake remembered that night. He had stormed out of the training camp in a fit of impulse, his phone ringing incessantly with his coach’s reprimands.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His head had cooled amidst the barrage of insults. He loosened his grip on his phone, but his fingers, white from the tension, refused to stop trembling.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The coach accused him of being emotionally unstable; he nodded.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The coach told him he’d never win a major international title with a hot head; he agreed.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The coach said if he walked away today, he was destined to be a loser; that was when his eyes finally burned with tears.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Finally, the coach gave him an ultimatum: back in the camp in an hour, or never come back at all.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">His rationality had returned then. He apologized to the phone, then dialed a familiar number in the country. The dial tone rang and rang, but she didn't pick up. He had even tried to convince himself then that Violette was just busy, that she hadn't done it on purpose. He told himself that her marriage was just a fleeting fit of pique, and as long as he came back, they would go back to how they were.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">It was just a marriage, Blake told himself. He didn't care.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He had been so confident he could take her back.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">But now, having returned and witnessed the reality for himself, the solid ground beneath his feet was crumbling like sand.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Every move Violette made only stripped him of more leverage.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He finally realized, with a jarring clarity, that the trait carved into Violette’s very soul—that relentless drive to move forward—might never change for anyone.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">For anyone at all, including him.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272917497]