Hours later, Evelyn had spent what little energy she had dragging herself to a clinic. The doctor’s words had been blunt: a hairline fracture in her knee. Rest and hospitalization were recommended. But Evelyn had refused, swallowing painkillers instead.
Now, after kneeling in the snow for hours, the pain had reached unbearable levels, radiating up her leg and threatening to consume her.
Christopher didn’t know any of this. He only saw her silence, interpreting it as stubbornness. His frustration mounted.
“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “But this time, Evelyn, I won’t let it slide.”
With that, he turned and walked into the house, leaving her alone in the biting cold.
Evelyn tilted her head back, staring at the sky as snowflakes continued to fall, their icy edges slicing into her skin like tiny knives.
The wind howled, relentless, tugging at her hair and clothes. Her lips quirked upward in a faint, bitter smile.
“You haven’t been soft on me for a long time, Chris,” she murmured.
***
When Charlotte arrived the next morning, Evelyn was still there—kneeling in the same spot, her body almost entirely buried in snow.