Ryan had always been a patient man. In the four years they had been married, Emma had never seen him lose his temper like this. She stood frozen, rooted to the spot, her mind in a daze.
Finally, Emma let out a bitter laugh, flicked a strand of hair out of her face, and muttered under her breath, "This is insane."
Meanwhile, the heated arguments between James and Mary continued to reverberate through the living room. Emma, increasingly agitated, retreated to the bathroom, intentionally shutting out the world around her.
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The cold wind sliced through the streets, and there were hardly any people around. Most of the shops nearby were closed, casting a sense of emptiness over the area.
The biting chill seemed to find every opening in Ryan's coat, and despite the heavy layers, he shivered uncontrollably.
He didn't know how long he had been walking, his body stiff and frozen, until he spotted a small hot dog stand at the end of a narrow alley. The steam rising from the kitchen created a haze of warmth in the otherwise frigid air.
Ryan's stomach gave a low growl. The cold had seeped deep into his bones, and he was desperate for warmth. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he trudged toward the stand.
Shaking off the snow that clung to him, he stepped inside. "Hi, I'll have a hot dog," he said, his voice hoarse.
The warmth that enveloped him was immediate, but it wasn't the comfort he expected. Instead, he felt a sharp, almost painful sensation shoot through his frozen limbs, as though his body was rebelling against the sudden heat. It was bearable, but not pleasant.
After a moment, he realized—after being in the cold for so long, the first contact with warmth was often not relief, but pain.
"Would you like cheese on that?" the server asked.
Snapping back to reality, Ryan hid the sorrow in his eyes, his expression returning to its usual calm. "Yes, please. Thank you."
He sat by the window, gazing out at the snowflakes drifting lazily down. He thought he'd feel overwhelmed with sadness, maybe even lost, but instead, when the moment arrived, he felt… nothing. A strange emptiness settled over him.
A waitress brought him a steaming cup of tea. "You look like you're freezing," she said kindly. "Here, drink some tea to warm up."
Ryan gave her a nod of thanks, his stiff fingers wrapping around the mug. As the warmth spread through his hands, he took a sip.
A moment later, the shop's intercom crackled, announcing the time: "It's now 12:00 PM CST."
Ryan blinked in surprise. He had left the house at around 7:30 in the morning, and yet here he was, wandering aimlessly for hours. No wonder he felt so cold.
As the ice on his hair began to melt, water slid down his neck, making him shiver even more. He couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at the situation.
Just as he was about to slip into self-deprecation, a soft hand appeared before him, offering a towel. A sweet voice chimed in, "Wipe off, you don't want to catch a cold."
Ryan looked up to see a young woman, her face smooth and flawless, like carved jade. Her eyes shone with a gentle depth, like still water under the moonlight, and her beauty seemed to glow like a flickering flame in the darkest of places.
When she saw that he had taken the towel, her lips curved into a smile, and two dimples appeared on her cheeks. Ryan found himself staring at her, completely mesmerized.
"Fiona, come help me!" a voice called from the back.
The woman, Fiona, smiled warmly at Ryan before nodding. "Coming, Mom." Then she turned and hurried off to the kitchen.
Ryan snapped back to reality, a little flustered. He wiped the melting snow off his clothes, feeling silly for being so distracted, especially considering how bad he felt physically.
Before he could collect himself, a sudden fit of coughing overtook him. He coughed violently, the sound harsh and loud in the quiet shop. His chest felt tight, his eyes stinging from the strain. The coughing echoed in the small room.
Just then, a hot dog, piled high with melted cheese, was placed in front of him, along with a bundle of brightly colored pills wrapped in a napkin.
"I'm a doctor," Fiona's voice was gentle. "You've caught a cold. Take these for now."
Without hesitation, Ryan took the pills and swallowed them all in one go. Fiona poured him another cup of tea. "It's quiet here now. Feel free to sit and relax as long as you need."
Ryan's coughs gradually slowed down, and with a hoarse voice, he muttered, "Thank you."
Fiona smiled and shook her head. "Eat your hot dog while it's hot. It won't taste as good once it cools down," she added playfully.
With that, she left him to eat in peace.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, Ryan felt his eyes burn as he looked at the steaming hot dog.
He took large bites, the warmth filling him in a way that had nothing to do with the food itself. He suddenly realized, maybe the world wasn't as terrible as he had thought.
The shop wasn't busy, but there were still a few customers trickling in—people who had nowhere to go, just like him. Fiona stayed in the kitchen, never having the chance to speak with him again.
In the middle of a cold winter, in a forgotten alley, Ryan didn't know that this hot dog—this small moment of warmth—would be the only light in the painful days to come.
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After finishing the hot dog and lingering a little longer, Ryan's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen: it was from his mother.
Ryan hesitated but answered, hoping to finally voice his frustration. But before he could even speak, his mother's angry tirade came crashing down on him.
"Emma told me you flipped the table and want a divorce? Ryan, what is wrong with you? Everything was fine, and now you're throwing it all away? Are you so bored with your life that you have to make trouble?"
"You're a huge disappointment! I should've never had you! Your sister is a thousand times better than you!"
Ryan's face turned cold, and he remained silent as the insults piled up. His mother's voice didn't stop until she ran out of breath.
When she finally paused, Ryan's voice was quiet but sharp. "Yes, I want a divorce. You love the Smiths so much, why don't you marry Emma's father and become her mother? Leave me out of it."
"Y—"
Before she could respond, Ryan hung up the phone, the line going dead.
Any shred of hope he had left for his mother evaporated in that moment.
The phone buzzed again, but this time Ryan didn't answer. The constant calls from his mother only added to his frustration. With a sigh, he silenced the phone, finally enjoying the silence.
He glanced around the shop, only to find other customers looking at him with pity in their eyes.
With a resigned sigh, Ryan stood, paid for his meal, and walked out of the hot dog stand.
He hadn't gotten far when a voice called out to him, "Sir, wait!"
Ryan turned around to see Fiona running toward him, holding out an umbrella.
The steam from her breath rose into the air as she spoke. "The northern winters are brutal. Take this umbrella, it will help protect you from the wind and snow."
Ryan couldn't help but smile, a small, genuine smile. "Thank you."
Fiona waved goodbye, her smile bright as a winter rose. "You're welcome."
As she turned to go back inside, Ryan, feeling an unexpected pull, called out, "Hey…"
Fiona turned, her eyes sparkling like stars. "Yes?"
"What's your name?" Ryan asked.
"Fiona. Fiona Davis," she said, before quickly running back to the kitchen.
Ryan couldn't help but smile again. It was the first real smile he'd had all day. He murmured to himself, "Fiona. What a beautiful name."