Snow was falling the night I died.
Soft… gentle… silent.
Exactly the opposite of the life I lived.
I remember the cold first.
Then the darkness.
Then—nothing.
When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on a velvet bed in a room I had only ever seen on a page.
A chandelier glittered above me.
A fire crackled beside me.
And in the mirror across the room…
wasn't my face.
It was hers.
Aveline Valestra.
The villainess I used to fear.
The girl everyone hated.
The girl destined to die in the story's winter arc.
Panic rushed through me—
followed by something heavier, something terrifying.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Sharp.
Cold.
He stepped into the doorway like a shadow made real—
the male lead of the novel.
The man who was supposed to destroy the villainess.
But instead of hatred…
his eyes locked onto me with something else.
Something intense.
Something unreadable.
Something that made my heartbeat shake.
"You're awake," he said slowly, stepping closer.
"Good. I was starting to think I'd lost you."
Lost… me?
My breath caught as he stopped inches from my bed, snow still clinging to his dark coat.
This wasn't the scene from the novel.
This wasn't how our story was supposed to start.
Something had changed.
And so had he.
This time…
the villain wouldn't die.
Not if I could stop it.
Not in this life.
Not in this winter.