Early spring snow on the piano keys
Chapter 1
The diagnosis was clear: three months. That was all I had left.
My phone rang. It was my wife.
"Joseph," she said, "you need to come on the reality show *The Last Journey* with me."
My instinct was to refuse, but she didn’t give me the chance.
"I lost a bet to Stephen. The hundredth one."
"You have to go. And on the final day, we leave the show together."
For three years, Helen had made a hundred bets with me, every single one for the sake of her so-called "savior," Stephen.
She’d lost ninety-nine times.
The cruelest loss was the one that took our child—just seven months along.
"Fine," I said. "I’ll go."
Consider it my final journey with her.
She just didn’t know it would be our last.
***
*The Last Journey* was filming in a small northern town nestled at the foot of a mountain range.
Light snow was falling when we arrived.
Flakes settled on my shoulders, their biting chill sending a dull ache deep into my lungs. I coughed reflexively, covering my mouth with a handkerchief.
When I pulled it away, a stark, vivid red stained the pure white cotton.
Tucking the handkerchief back into my pocket as if nothing had happened, I looked up at Helen walking ahead.
She wore a camel-colored coat, her posture straight and elegant—and just as distant and cold as the landscape around us.
Not once did she glance back, as though I weren’t even there.
The production crew rushed over, all smiles. "Helen! Joseph! Welcome, welcome! Your room’s all ready. You must be tired from the trip—please, rest first."
Helen gave a slight, indifferent nod and walked straight toward the log cabin the crew had arranged.
Pushing the door open, a wave of warm air greeted us.
The room was spacious and cozy, dominated by a large bed covered with a soft wool blanket.
According to the show’s rules, all married couples had to share a room during the trip.
I started to wheel my suitcase inside, but Helen suddenly turned, her gaze icy. "You take the sofa."
I froze.
Her beautiful features were etched with pure disgust, as if sharing a bed with me would be unbearable.
"I made a bet with Stephen," she said. "For this entire trip, you won’t lay a finger on me."
Another bet.
You may also like
