THE RETURN OF WINTER

Germany did not welcome people back.

It merely allowed them to stand on its soil again.

The sky above Frankfurt Airport was the color of unfinished apologies when Aloisia Schmidt stepped out of the terminal, coat perfectly structured, posture straighter than the metal railings lining the exit. Russia had carved something into her. Not warmth. Not softness.

Precision.

At twenty-eight, she no longer resembled the girl who once waited outside lecture halls with coffee for Fenja Vogel.

Now she looked like someone who prescribed pain management plans and expected obedience.

Her phone vibrated.

Mother.

She stared at the screen for three seconds before answering.

“Du bist angekommen?” her mother asked, voice bright, anxious.

“Yes.”

“You’ll come home directly?”

“I said I would.”

A pause. Hesitation lived in that silence.

“You know… Fenja will be there tonight. We are having dinner to celebrate the engagement.”

Aloisia’s expression did not change.

“I am aware.”

“You haven’t seen her in years. Please behave.”

Aloisia almost smiled. It did not reach her eyes.

“I always behave.”

She ended the call.

The Schmidt family home stood the same as it always had. Tall. Imposing. White exterior. Generational money whispering through its windows.

Aloisia paused before the gate.

Seven years.

Seven years since she left without a goodbye. Without a confrontation. Without asking a single question.

Because she did not need to ask.

She had seen enough.

Graduation day.

Confetti. Laughter. Flashing cameras. Future plans.

And then—

Gerlach’s hands on Fenja’s face.

Gerlach’s mouth on hers.

Fenja frozen.

Aloisia watching.

That image had followed her to Russia like a parasite.

She had not screamed.

She had not demanded answers.

She had simply walked away.

And built a life sharp enough to survive the memory.

The gate opened.

Inside, warm lights glowed. Voices echoed. Laughter.

Her family had always loved celebrations.

She stepped in.

The first person she saw was Gerlach.

Older by a few lines around his eyes, but still carrying that open, confident demeanor. He approached her immediately.

“Aloisia.”

No hug. They were never that kind of siblings.

“You look well,” he said.

“I am.”

“I’m glad you came.”

“I said I would.”

He hesitated. “It means a lot. To all of us.”

She gave a small nod.

“And where is the bride?” she asked, tone neutral. Clinical.

Gerlach smiled, almost shyly.

“In the living room.”

Of course.

Aloisia removed her coat and handed it to the staff. Then she walked forward.

And saw her.

Fenja Vogel stood near the fireplace, laughing softly at something Aloisia’s mother said. She wore a simple cream dress. No excessive jewelry. Hair longer now. Softer around the edges.

Twenty-seven.

Older. But still unmistakably her.

The girl who once fell asleep on Aloisia’s shoulder while coding at three in the morning.

The girl who cried when her first app failed.

The girl who promised forever at seventeen.

Fenja looked up.

Their eyes met.

Time did not slow.

It hardened.

Fenja’s smile faded first.

Aloisia’s expression remained untouched.

Polite.

Indifferent.

Like observing a stranger in a waiting room.

Fenja recovered quickly. Too quickly.

She stepped forward.

“Aloisia,” she said gently. “You’re back.”

“Yes.”

No warmth. No bitterness. Just a word.

“It’s been years.”

“Indeed.”

Silence stretched.

Fenja searched her face for something. Anything.

There was nothing to find.

Gerlach slipped an arm around Fenja’s waist.

“We’re getting married in three weeks,” he announced, pride clear in his voice.

“I heard,” Aloisia replied.

Her phone buzzed. She looked down at it.

Not because the message was urgent.

But because she refused to look at Fenja longer than necessary.

Fenja noticed.

Of course she did.

Dinner was a theatre performance.

Fenja played her role beautifully.

She leaned into Gerlach when she laughed.

She touched his hand when speaking.

She adjusted his tie once, gently, smiling up at him.

Every movement deliberate.

Every gesture visible.

Aloisia did not look up from her phone.

Occasionally she answered work emails in Russian. Occasionally she nodded when spoken to. She never once allowed her gaze to linger on the couple.

Inside, however—

There was no jealousy.

Only something colder.

Disgust.

She believed she understood now.

Fenja had not only betrayed her.

She had aimed higher.

The Schmidt name.

The wealth. The status.

Of course.

It made sense in a clean, logical way.

Love at seventeen. Ambition at twenty-one.

People evolved.

Aloisia took a sip of wine.

Her hand did not shake.

Across the table, Fenja’s smile faltered for half a second.

Why wasn’t she reacting?

Why wasn’t she angry?

Why wasn’t she looking?

Fenja had imagined this moment for years.

She imagined Aloisia returning and seeing her engaged. Imagined pain flickering across those cold grey eyes. Imagined some crack in that composure.

Instead—

Nothing.

It felt worse than hatred.

It felt like being irrelevant.

After dinner, Fenja followed Aloisia into the hallway.

“Aloisia. Can we talk?”

Aloisia stopped walking.

“No.”

The word was immediate.

Fenja inhaled slowly. “You left without saying anything.”

“Yes.”

“You disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“At least tell me why.”

Aloisia finally turned.

Her gaze was steady. Controlled. Surgical.

“Why?” she repeated.

Fenja nodded.

Aloisia stepped closer.

“On graduation day,” she said quietly, “I saw you.”

Fenja’s heart skipped.

“Saw me?”

“With my brother.”

The blood drained from Fenja’s face.

“It wasn’t—”

Aloisia raised a hand.

“I am not interested in revising history.”

“You think I cheated?” Fenja whispered.

“I do not think,” Aloisia replied. “I saw.”

Silence.

Fenja’s chest tightened.

“He proposed to me that day,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “I rejected him. He kissed me without asking. I froze. That’s what you saw.”

Aloisia’s expression did not change.

“Convenient explanation.”

“It’s the truth!”

“You are marrying him.”

Fenja faltered.

“Yes.”

“So clearly, you reconsidered.”

“That’s not—”

Aloisia stepped back.

“Spare me. I did not come here for emotional theatrics.”

“You didn’t even confront me,” Fenja said, frustration rising. “You didn’t ask me anything. You just left.”

“I saw enough.”

“You always do that!” Fenja snapped. “You see something once and decide it’s the entire truth.”

A flicker.

Tiny.

But present.

Aloisia’s jaw tightened.

“I make decisions based on evidence.”

“I was crying after that kiss!” Fenja said. “Did you see that?”

A pause.

No.

Aloisia had not waited long enough to see anything beyond the kiss.

Fenja laughed bitterly.

“You left me with no explanation. Do you know what that did to me?”

“I assumed you were occupied.”

The cruelty in that sentence landed perfectly.

Fenja stared at her.

“You really believe I’m marrying him for money or status, don’t you?”

Aloisia said nothing.

Silence was answer enough.

Fenja’s eyes burned.

“Fine,” she whispered. “Believe whatever makes it easier for you.”

Aloisia’s phone buzzed again.

She looked down.

Conversation over.

Fenja stepped back, something inside her twisting violently.

“Congratulations on becoming a physiatrist,” she said coldly. “Russia suits you.”

Aloisia slid her phone into her pocket.

“It taught me clarity.”

And with that, she walked away.

Fenja remained in the hallway long after.

Her revenge suddenly felt hollow.

She had imagined satisfaction.

Instead she felt… unseen.

Inside the living room, laughter resumed.

Gerlach called her name warmly.

She wiped her eyes quickly and returned.

If Aloisia wanted indifference—

Fenja would give her a performance worth watching.

Even if Aloisia refused to look.

Upstairs, in her old bedroom, Aloisia stood by the window.

Germany looked unchanged.

But she knew better.

She closed her eyes briefly.

He kissed her.

That image again.

Fenja’s lips under Gerlach’s.

Fenja’s hand on his shirt.

Frozen or not—

She had chosen to stay after.

And now she was choosing marriage.

Aloisia exhaled slowly.

Hatred was easier than heartbreak.

And she preferred easy things.

Downstairs, Fenja laughed too loudly at something Gerlach said.

Aloisia did not move toward the sound.

She remained still.

Cold.

Controlled.

Winter had returned.

And winter did not beg for explanations.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***