27. Crimson Snow
Crimson Snow
Nikolai
January twenty-second can’t come fast enough. Only two weeks away until the winter showcase is over, though it feels like a lifetime away.
The curtains open, and once I’m satisfied with everyone’s positioning, I leave.
I can’t watch the performances. Every jump, every pirouette, is like a reminder of what Eleanor’s lost, what I’ve failed to protect.
And Paloma… she’s become unbearable. Her sly smirks and her constant attempts to insert herself where she doesn’t belong have only grown since Eleanor’s injury.
I’ve never seen someone so thrilled at another’s misfortune. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Eleanor.
Every time I think about her, my mind goes straight back to the conversation Kasper had with me right after she tore her achilles.
“What the hell was that?” Kasper seethed as he stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the frame. He remained standing. “And don’t you dare play dumb.”
I drew in a slow breath. “A dancer got hurt. Instead of letting her be a circus animal for entertainment, I took her somewhere she could have privacy.”
Kasper pinched the bridge of his nose. “You should have waited for medical.” His hands clenched into fists. “Now I’m hearing our dancers, our staff, whispering about how inappropriate that was. They’re wondering if something is going on between the two of you.”
I sat frozen. In one careless moment, I might have just destroyed both Eleanor’s career and my own.
“Nothing is going on,” I protested weakly.
It wasn’t entirely true. Even if Eleanor didn’t feel the same, I had completely fallen in love with her. I couldn’t save her, or even fix what she was battling, but I wanted to be there for her in the ways that mattered. Even if I was furious with her right now.
Kasper shook his head. “You are not to contact her or see her again.”
My head snapped up, my disbelief colliding with his fury.
“You promised no scandals. You promised to improve her already sharp skills,” he continued. “So far, I’ve seen none of what you assured me, Nikolai.”
My heart pounded against my ribs. This couldn’t be happening.
“If I find out you speak to her, or go to see her, that’s it. You can kiss your job goodbye.” Then he left without another glance, and my entire world collapsed right there in that office.
Ever since that night, fury has burned through my veins. I want to see Eleanor more than anything, but with my job hanging in the balance, it’s basically impossible.
When I head for the back door, a hand grabs my arm, stopping me. I turn to see Lily, her expression solemn, almost pleading.
“Nik,” she whispers. “Won’t you stay?”
I shrug her hand off. “I’m not staying. Get in your place and make Kasper proud,” I say flatly, forcing distance between us.
Lily’s brows pinch together. “Gosh, you’ve become such a jerk.”
Her words should sting, but they don’t. These last four weeks have stripped me of everything but the reminder of watching Eleanor spiral out of reach.
I’m numb, a ghost wandering through life, unable to fix what I’ve watched crumble in front of me.
And yet… every thought, every heartbeat, still carries her.
I walk down the empty hallway, the echo of my boots loud in the cavernous space. Every step is heavy, weighed down by the things I keep inside and the chances I didn’t take.
Eleanor.
Her name feels like fire in my chest and ice in my gut at the same time. I told her I loved her, and then I walked away, not knowing that would be the last time I saw her.
She hasn’t reached out. She hasn’t called. And part of me is furious at her for that, though I know it’s unfair. It’s not like I’ve done anything to make it easier. I can’t contact her, though I selfishly wish I could.
I think about the last time she looked at me before the fall, how her eyes lingered on mine with that spark, the same one that had made me want to protect her no matter what.
But now there’s distance, a chasm I don’t dare to cross.
And it shakes me to my core. Because I know that once she heals, once she regains herself, she might not need me in the same way.
And the thought of losing her—not to someone else, not to the world, but to think I’ve already lost her—is unbearable.
I clench my fists, the tension in my body nearly suffocating.
I hate that I have no choice but to let her fall through my fingers.
I hate that I have let myself be paralyzed by fear and anger.
And most of all, I hate that she deserves better than me.
At least, better than the version of me I am right now.
But even in the dark, even in the silence of my own self-recrimination, there’s a small, stubborn glimmer of hope. Maybe she’ll still let me in. Maybe I can earn her back. Maybe… I can prove to her that I’m not just a bystander in her life, that I can be the person she needs me to be.
I barely register the chill or the snow whipping around furiously outside. I climb into my car, crank the heater to full blast, and drive to one of the only places that brings me any kind of solace these days. Mama.
When I make it into her room, I fall into the same routine I’ve been doing every day for weeks. Coat off, sit in a chair, watch TV, talk, or stew in my own miserable silence.
But today, Mama seems to have other plans.
“Nikusha, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she says, placing her thin, fragile hand over mine.
I grab the remote, flipping through channels, not looking at her.
“Do what to myself?” I ask, my voice flat.
I haven’t told her all the details about Eleanor.
Only that she fell, and that I haven’t seen her since.
I can’t bear recounting what happened. I’ve been coming here each night, praying to shove Kasper’s ultimatum out of my mind.
But it seems my shell has cracks, and it’s threatening to crumble completely.
“You know what I mean,” she chides softly. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been. It’s like you’re a ghost of yourself—I hardly recognize you. There’s something weighing you down, and I want you to tell me what it is.”
I tense, trying to pull away, but her hand stays. “I—” I stop, words failing me. All the fear, guilt, and anger swirling around Eleanor paralyzes me. I don’t know how to fix it.
“You love her, don’t you?” Her voice is gentle.
I whip my head toward her. “What?”
A small smirk tugs at her lips. “Eleanor. You love her?”
My face catches fire, and I’m suddenly grateful for the dim light in the room. I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I do.”
“That’s a start,” she says, clearing her throat. “Now tell me the rest.”
Panic seizes in my throat. I didn’t come here to confront anything. I’m here to escape. But maybe it’s time to face what I’ve been avoiding for so long.
When I finish recounting everything, Mama’s expression softens, tinged with sadness.
“And you haven’t gone to see her?”
I shake my head slowly. “I can’t.” My voice cracks. “Kasper would fire me if he found out, and then what?” I shrug, helpless. “Besides… I couldn’t fix her. What good would I be to her anyway?”
“Oh, Synulya,” she whispers. “Does Kasper dictate your life now?” Her thumb brushes beneath my chin, lifting my gaze to hers.
“And it isn’t your job to fix her. That’s God’s part.
Yours is to be there. To love her. That is enough.
You’re carrying burdens that were never meant to be yours.
” Her tone mellows. “And I know how you punish yourself over Daria. But she was not your fault. You were thirteen. How could you have known what she needed?”
Pressure builds in my chest.
She continues, her voice steady. “Daria and Eleanor are not the same. The difference is, you had no clue what Daria needed, but with Eleanor, you do. And yet you shut her out, trying to protect a job. Instead, you should put your fears of Kasper’s threats aside and go to her.”
I lick my bottom lip, sitting back in my seat, chewing on it nervously. “It’s been so long… I’m sure she doesn’t even care to see or hear from me now.”
Mama coughs lightly. “Oh, Nik, you haven’t been one to self-loathe in so long—don’t start now.”
“I’m not self-loathing, I’m being practical,” I say, averting my gaze.
“Sure,” Mama murmurs, a weak smile tugging at her lips. “Just promise me one thing.”
My stomach knots. “What is it?”
“Not until you promise me first.”
I sigh. “Alright, I promise. Now what is it?”
Her smile deepens ever so slightly. “Promise me you won’t give up on love, even if it challenges you.” She draws a shallow breath. “And promise me you’ll still seek God, even when His answers are unclear.”
Something restless stirs beneath my ribs. “I promise.” I lift her hand and kiss it, holding on longer than I mean to. “Even if I promise, it doesn’t make it any less hard,” I whisper.
“My dear boy, life was never meant to be easy.” She presses her lips faintly to my hand. “Doing the will of God will always come with obstacles, but it will always be worth it. Keep your eyes on Him, no matter what.”
“I know, Mama.” My voice cracks as I adjust her blanket, my throat raw with unsaid words. “I’ll keep praying.”
Her eyelids flutter, heavy. “Good. That’s all I want.”
I linger, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead, tucking her in as though she’s fragile glass. “I love you,” I whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Her breath catches, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I love you, Nikusha. Always.”
I stand a moment longer, watching the slow, uneven rise and fall of her chest. Something in me wants to stay, but instead, I force myself to leave, closing the door on the faint glow of her lamp.
I don’t want to go home. Four walls feels like a trap, and I need to talk to God properly.
The kind of honest, messy, and raw conversation I’ve been avoiding.
So I drive to the lake behind my parents’ house, the place I retreated to as a child whenever the world got too loud. My childhood sanctuary.
When I pull into the drive my father’s car isn’t there, and I breathe in relief. I trudge through the snow and dead grass, the cold nipping at my face, until I reach the shore. The lake is a sheet of glass dusted with white. It looks way too peaceful for how I’m feeling right now.
I brush snow off a flat rock and sit, letting the quiet settle around me.
For the first time in days, I draw in a full breath and don’t feel it catch.
I fish my phone from my pocket and switch it off, not wanting to be disturbed.
All I want is the lake, the sky, and God.
To say all the things I’m too ashamed to say out loud.
“God, I don’t know your plans,” I breathe into the cold air, the words feeling tired from being said so many times. “Help me trust them.” I pick up a flat stone and roll it between my fingers, the motion steadying me. “I’m so lost, God.”
I hurl the rock and watch it skitter across the iced over lake until it finally stops. I find another stone and hold it for a beat, the weight of it pointless and grounding all at once. “I haven’t been this broken since Daria,” I admit, voice raw. “It’s like living the worst of it again.”
I close my fist around the second rock. “I love Eleanor,” I say, the confession tasting like something I’ve swallowed a thousand times but never quite believed. “And right now…” The words fall slowly and honestly. “I wish I didn’t.”
I throw the second rock, and it nicks the ice, sending a hairline crack spreading outward.
“God, guide me,” I whisper. “All I want—all I can think about—is her.” I pick up another stone.
“I believe You sent her to me, so I can’t understand why any of this has to happen.
Why can’t it just be easy? Haven’t I had enough?
” I fling the rock harder than I mean to.
It strikes the same fissure, widens it, and then sinks into the black water beneath the ice.
I lie back on the flat rock and stare at the stars, moonlight spilling across the ice as the cold air gnaws at my face. “I don’t know where to go after this… but Your will over mine. Always.” I take a deep breath. “Amen.”
I stay there for hours, or long enough that the chill seeps through my coat and the sky grows darker still. I keep throwing stones, each small splash like a secret unraveling. I talk into the night, praying for a way forward, desperate for any scrap of reprieve.
“Nikolai!” A voice tears through the woods, sharp against the silence.
I turn, scanning the trees. Branches crack, bushes shake, and then my father emerges, striding toward me with a storm etched across his face.
I rise from the rock, meaning to meet him halfway, maybe even ask what’s wrong, but he closes the distance faster than I expect.
“Is everything alr—”
His fist meets my face. Pain detonates through my jaw, white-hot and blinding, the metallic taste of blood blooming across my tongue before I even hit the flat rock I’ve been using as a seat.
When I catch myself, I stagger upright, my breath ripping out of me, red and ragged. I raise a trembling thumb to my lip, warm blood coating my skin. My father stands over me, fists balled, chest heaving like an animal’s.
“What the hell was that for?” I hiss, forcing my voice steady, fighting the urge to hit back.
“Do you not answer your phone!” he barks in Russian.
“You punched me over not answering my phone?” I spit, blood flecking the snow. “You’ve reached a new low, old man.” I say in English.
A cold, calculating smile spreads across his face. “Talk to me like a real man, Nikolai,” he snaps in Russian.
I want to needle him, to push until he snaps. But another part tells me to hold back. “My phone was turned off,” I reply in Russian.
His grin curdles into something nastier, like victory is his. “Well, how sad for you to find out this way then.”
I wipe my lip again, my jacket streaked in blood. “Find out what?”
“Your mother is dead. The hospital called you a hundred times!” he roars, spittle flying. “You selfish—” He stops himself, the word a hiss.
The world narrows. For a moment it feels like the sky’s been ripped away. “What?” I manage. “I was just with her a few hours ago.”
“She died an hour ago,” he spits. “Everyone’s been trying to reach you.”
The ground tilts. The air goes thin. My knees fold beneath me and I sink down into the snow, cold seeping through my pants. Scorching shock spreads through my chest, until the only thing I can feel is nothing.