Chapter 5: The Thawing of the Ice

Isabella's POV

In my past life, I had met Eva a few times. Back then, when my marriage with Ethan was falling apart, she wasn’t just a designer. Her creative spirit and optimism had been a beacon of light in those dark days. She would often encourage me to see Ethan from a different perspective. “He’s not as bad as you think,” she’d say. But I was too angry, too hurt to really listen to her words.

Later, I heard that Eva had been caught in a plagiarism scandal. The last time I saw her was on a rooftop. She wore a white dress, and the strong wind lifted her long hair. But her once vibrant face was hollow, drained of the energy I had always admired.

“Did I make a mistake, Isabella?” she had asked, staring at me but also somehow through me, as if looking for answers from someone else. My chest tightened, but I couldn’t give her the response she needed. She seemed disappointed but then smiled—a smile that felt more like a goodbye.

“Thank you, Isabella. I never thought you’d be the one with me at the end,” she had said, her voice strangely calm. And without any warning, without a moment of hesitation, she jumped from the rooftop. That scene had haunted my dreams for the days that followed, a nightmare I could never escape.

“Isabella?” A bright voice jolted me from my painful memories. Eva was standing in front of me, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I had no idea how to bridge the gap between our past and the present. How could I explain that I knew her—that I had seen her at her lowest, in a time that belonged to another version of me?

In the end, I simply shook my head, pushing the sadness back behind my eyes.

“Oh… I get it. We all have our little secrets,” Eva said with a kind, understanding smile. She waved her measuring tape around, her hands working deftly with the fabric. Every precise movement she made reflected her dedication and skill. She was clearly passionate about her craft, and watching her bring the material to life was mesmerizing.

This was the Eva I had lost in my previous life, the one I had desperately wished to see again in my dreams.

"Anyway, let’s change the subject," she said, her voice lightening as she picked up a different conversation thread. "I need to vent about Chloe." Her expression soured at the mention of the name. "When Ethan asked me to design a dress for her, I was less than thrilled."

Her animated expression made me smile despite myself, and I decided to go along with her lighthearted tone. “Really? Why’s that?” I asked, curiosity slipping into my voice.

Eva snorted softly, her hands moving deftly over the fabric, though now with a bit more force. "She was insufferable. Arrogant, condescending—it was like she thought she ran the place. Acted like she was in charge. It was absolutely infuriating."

Her openness drew me in, and I listened intently as she continued. The way she described Chloe painted a vivid picture of the tension that must have filled those interactions. It was a side of Eva's experience I hadn't known.

I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Eva, who was usually so composed and passionate about her work, clearly had strong feelings about Chole. "Oh," I muttered under my breath.

Eva sighed deeply. "I kept asking myself why Ethan would choose someone like her. It didn't make any sense to me. But meeting you today..." She looked up, her expression softening as she studied my face, "I see something genuine in you that I never saw in her. I'm happy you're the one by his side."

I was taken aback by her candidness. It wasn't what I had expected to hear, but it was oddly reassuring.

I laughed softly, more to myself than to her. Even in their brief encounter, Eva had seen through Chloe's facade. It made me wonder how I had been so blind to it in my past life. How had I missed all the subtle undercurrents? Reflecting on it now, it seemed both amusing and a bit sad. Chloe had always been ambitious, and I was too wrapped up in my own frustrations to notice.

As Eva continued to adjust the fabric of my gown, my curiosity finally won out. "Eva," I started, cautiously broaching the subject that had been on my mind, "what can you say about my relationship with Ethan? Do you know anything?"

Eva stopped her adjustments, her hands resting lightly on the fabric as she met my gaze. She tilted her head, considering her words. "I've known Ethan for a long time," she began slowly, her voice thoughtful. "He's always kept to himself, you know? Very private. He doesn't really open up to people or share much about his life. But there’s one thing I’ve noticed—he looks at you differently."

Her comment intrigued me. "Differently? How so?"

Eva's smile was knowing. "You can tell a lot from someone’s eyes. They’re the one thing that can’t really hide how you feel. And from what I’ve seen, he cares more than he lets on."

Eva straightened up, her eyes meeting mine with a serious yet playful glint. "The way Ethan looks when he talks about you. It’s different. He might not say much, but I know he cares about you. It’s all there in his eyes."

Her statement hit me like a sudden gust of wind, and I felt my stomach twist with an emotion I couldn’t quite place. Care? Ethan cared about me? The idea seemed almost absurd. In my past life, I would have laughed off Eva’s words. I would’ve written them off as meaningless, romantic nonsense, nothing more than wishful thinking.

I had always believed our marriage was just a convenient arrangement. His family had orchestrated the whole thing, positioning Ethan to marry me after everything fell apart. Ethan might not have been the one pulling the strings directly, but he had certainly allowed it all to happen. How could that possibly translate into care or affection?

I could feel my skepticism creeping in, old memories resurfacing—the way Ethan had stood by while my family crumbled, the cold, detached way he had forced me into this marriage afterward. It never felt like love or care. It felt like control.

But Eva’s words echoed in my mind, refusing to leave. ‘I know he cares about you." Was there something I had missed all this time?

My thoughts drifted back to the fire—the night everything changed. The memory was sharp, and painful, but I couldn’t shake it. Ethan had been almost frantic in his desperation to get me out, his usual calm and calculated demeanor shattered in those moments. He had risked everything, burned himself in the process, just to pull me to safety. I had brushed it off before, thinking he was simply protecting his interests. After all, I was his wife, the one tied to his reputation and status. But what if… what if there was more to it?

I let out a weary sigh, unsure of what to think. What had I been missing all this time? Who was Ethan beneath the layers of coldness and distance?

After the fitting, Eva stepped back and gave me a warm, almost hesitant hug, as if she wasn’t sure if it was okay but wanted to do it anyway. “It feels like we’ve known each other for years,” she said softly, her voice filled with a fondness that caught me by surprise. “I hope I can visit you again soon.”

I smiled, feeling a genuine warmth for her. “I’d like that, Eva,” I replied, returning the hug. But as I pulled away, something tugged at me, a memory from my past life. I didn’t know the exact details of what had gone wrong for Eva, how everything had spiraled out of control. But I remembered how fragile things had been for her. How one small misstep had led to devastating consequences.

"Just be careful," I added quietly, my voice lowering as a hint of concern crept in. "Be mindful of the people around you, especially with things like your design drafts. Sometimes the people closest to you can be... tricky."

Eva gave me a puzzled look but nodded, sensing the seriousness in my tone. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

With that, she gathered her things, gave me one last hug, and left. As the door closed behind her, the room suddenly felt much quieter. I stood there for a moment, letting the silence sink in.

When I turned, I noticed Ethan standing at the stairway, watching me. His posture was tense, his expression softer than usual, almost hesitant. I had no idea how long he'd been there or what he’d overheard. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

The silence between us stretched, and I waited, unsure of what to expect. Finally, he spoke.

“You look great, Isabella,” he said, his voice softer than usual, as if the words felt unfamiliar to him. There was a vulnerability in his tone that I wasn’t used to hearing.

I blinked, surprised. His compliment sounded genuine, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Glancing down at the dress Eva had fitted perfectly to my body, I realized I hadn’t even noticed I was still wearing it. A little flustered, I managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

It surprised me how peaceful the exchange felt. It was rare for us to talk without tension or hidden meanings. It was a moment of calm that I hadn’t realized I’d needed.

But soon, Ethan fell silent again, his expression darkening as he struggled with whatever was on his mind. I’d come to recognize this look. When he grew quiet and serious like this, it often meant he was wrestling with words he wasn’t ready to say.

Ethan was rugged, shaped by years in the military, which gave him a commanding presence. In my past life, I hadn’t understood him at all and had even been a little afraid of him. He seemed unreachable, always distant. It had taken countless arguments and misunderstandings before I started to grasp who he really was beneath that hard exterior.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ethan spoke again. “Don’t casually hug people,” he said, his tone sharp. It wasn’t a full-out rebuke, but enough to catch me off guard. I wasn’t sure if he was angry or if there was something else behind his words.

In the past, that tone would have sparked an argument. We would have exchanged snappy remarks, and the tension would have built until we retreated into silence. But today, I sensed something different behind his words—something I hadn’t noticed before.

“Are you jealous?” I asked, keeping my voice calm, needing to understand. “Because I hugged Eva?”

Ethan’s jaw clenched, and he looked away momentarily, clearly thinking through his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper, as though admitting something he didn’t want to say out loud. “You’ve never hugged me. Not once, and I’m your legal husband.”

His words caught me off guard. I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Ethan—this distant, stoic man—cared about something as simple as a hug? It was such an awkward confession that I wasn’t sure how to react. I had never imagined that he would care about such things.

In my mind, Ethan had always been unapproachable, someone who kept his distance from everyone, especially me. The idea that he might feel hurt by the lack of physical affection between us was something I hadn’t considered.

“I didn’t know...” I said softly, trying to adjust to this shift in our dynamic. There was something surprisingly vulnerable about him in that moment. Tentatively, I opened my arms. “Then... how about a hug?”

His reaction was immediate. The lines of his face hardened, and the look he gave me was edged with anger, as if he could no longer tolerate being in the same room with me. Without a word, he turned on his heel, storming toward the door. But just as he was about to leave, something caught my eye—something I never would’ve expected.

The tips of his ears were flushed, a deep crimson.

I stared at Ethan’s retreating, disbelief flooding through me. I blinked, trying to convince myself I hadn’t imagined it. But no, the sight was real. And with that realization, a startling thought crept into my mind.

Ethan... was he actually embarrassed?