Elisa, who feared the cold, met her end in the snow of a harsh winter. Despite her fear of pain, she burned for a full two hours in the fire.
Hamish’s face seemed frozen by the biting winds as he knelt on the ground, clutching the charred remains of Elisa’s right wrist. His body trembled violently as he choked out “Elisa’s” name repeatedly, tears mingling with the blood in his mouth and throat.
Elisa had once told him that blood and tears, if held in the mouth for long, would taste bitter. He hadn’t believed it… until now. The bitterness unsettled him, but Elisa had endured this bitterness for seven years.
“Elisa, Elisa,” he called out, but the woman lying on the ground no longer responded.
He pulled his hand free from the cat’s bite, and Mimi, caught off guard, tumbled on the ground. Now, it had no strength left, its once beautiful cat eyes half-closed under a layer of white mist. Gasping weakly, it attempted to stand but repeatedly collapsed, its limbs no longer capable of movement.
The Ragdoll cat was once considered a divine feline in many people’s eyes-gentle in nature, elegant in demeanor, fond of human company, with long, beautiful fur and a cute appearance. But this current Mimi was unrecognizable as a Ragdoll cat. Covered in blood, it lay limp on the ground, resembling a burnt toy, blood flowing from its charred body, weakly watching Hamish as he trembled, trying to wipe Elisa’s face.
Elisa, who always cherished cleanliness and beauty, now had half of her face destroyed. Hamish wanted to clean it for her, to wipe away the ash on her face, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clean the half that had been burnt, festering like rotting flesh.
Elisa loved the snow. On the day she died, after six years of no snow, Chiwood suddenly experienced heavy snowfall, like downy feathers. For an instant, Hamish’s world turned white.
The blood flowing from Elisa stained the snow, creating an expanse of fire, dyeing the heavens and the earth red, forming a stark contrast between the white and the red.
Hamish struggled to find words but couldn’t understand the best way to hold Elisa. He could only kneel down in self-reproach, holding her and crying bitterly.
His tears fell on Elisa’s face. He reached out to wipe them away, lowered his quivering head, and kissed her. Her once warm and tender lips were now dry and cold.
The metallic taste in Hamish’s throat and the blood staining Elisa’s pale lips as he embraced and kissed her, repeatedly saying, “I was wrong,” but Elisa remained quiet, her lips motionless, never to respond again.
The firefighters at the scene watched the man kneeling and weeping, his heart torn apart. They had witnessed many life-and-death situations, yet the scene before them still brought tears to their eyes.
A kind-hearted medical staff member gently reminded him, “Sir, she’s gone. You need to let her go…”
Hamish held the person in his arms as if they were fragile, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear.
He couldn’t let go. Elisa was a part of him, akin to a piece of his own flesh. Letting her go would be like tearing out his own rib. How could he bring himself to release her?
When a person is consumed by extreme fear, they gradually lose consciousness, their body entering a state of self-preservation. They feel as if they’re enclosed in a sealed room surrounded by mirrors, each shard reflecting Elisa’s image.
The Elisa who laughed sweetly, the Elisa who wept bitterly, her eyes reddened with anger, the Elisa who would call him “Hamish”… every memory of Elisa was so vivid.
His soul seemed divided. One part told him that Elisa was gone, that he had broken her legs, preventing her escape from the fire that ultimately took her life. The other part insisted that Elisa was still there, perhaps only sleeping or, like a year before, had become a vegetable. Or maybe the person in his arms wasn’t her at all.
“It’s snowing this Christmas, colder than ever. I’ll take you to see the snow. When you’re better, the flowers on the North Bankshire side will be in bloom, and you would probably like that…”
Outside, the snow fell heavier. Elisa’s body had long lost its warmth, now frozen.
If this were just a nightmare, he would rewrite this tragic ending. He would heal Elisa’s legs and never confine her again, resolving all conflicts to return to a peaceful state.
He would watch over her from afar, no longer disturbing her, as long as she was healthy.
Once one loses something, they understand its value and what they truly desire. All he had ever wanted, from beginning to end, was a healthy and happy Elisa.
He could have been less greedy. It was his greed that trapped Elisa’s life at the age of twenty-seven forever.
Trembling, Hamish stood up unsteadily, refusing others’ assistance. As he rose, his body staggered for a moment, almost falling. He held Elisa tightly, picking up the bracelet from the ground.
His gaze was filled with an indescribable longing. It was as if he was looking at the Elisa in his arms, and simultaneously, through this broken and tattered body, he was seeing the Elisa from many years ago.
She walked toward him in a red dress, her clear eyes sparkling, as if they held a myriad of candles. She smiled at him.
The cold wind brushed his face, carrying not just its chill, but also the scent of blood. Hamish felt desolation and pain deep in his heart.
“Elisa…”
Blood surged directly from his mouth. Lips slightly parted, his heart felt as though it was tied in a knot. Blood dripped unstoppably from his mouth, staining the snow beneath him.
As he held her cold body, every step he took left a trail of blood. He leaned his forehead against Elisa’s icy nose.
“Elisa, you’re not cold anymore. Let’s go home…” He choked softly, and as he turned, his body froze for a moment. Hamish looked at the ruins that had once been their “home.”
He and Elisa’s “home” had long become ruins, buried alongside this winter.
A sharp bird’s cry pierced the air, as if in mourning for Elisa’s death.
The world felt empty, and the falling snow seemed to sigh.
For Hamish, a world without Elisa was nothing short of hell.
In addition to the pain in his chest, his stomach convulsed. The bottle of pesticide Elisa had given him initially caused damage, despite his stomach being washed. His stomach suffered from lingering issues, occasionally causing sharp pain. Now, the pain had intensified, turning his entire world upside down.
“Sir!”
“Mr. Burns!”
“Doctor, come quickly! Someone has collapsed here…”
Even as he lay on the ground, Hamish continued to protect Elisa’s body. He lay on the cold snow, feeling the bone-chilling cold from within.
It felt as though a portal had opened in his chest, allowing the freezing cold to seep in. Every organ in his body seemed frozen, and his blood stained his eyes…
If falling asleep like this meant seeing Elisa again, that would be good…