There aren’t happy endings. Not in real life.
I rise from the bath and lift my leg over the tub’s edge, marveling at the strength in my muscles as I step onto the frigid stone floor.
The shocking cold after the bath’s heat is actually welcome, as is the powerful flex of my calf as I shift my weight.
Maybe it’s only the romantic happy endings that are impossible, because I just received this miracle I’d all but given up hoping for. I stand straight, completely pain-free, feeling my shoulders square with newfound confidence.
When I breathe deeply, there’s no obstruction. No pain.
A tear slides down my cheek. I still can’t quite believe it. To be healed after a lifetime of limitations. Too many emotions battle in my chest simultaneously.
The tears are indistinguishable from bathwater dripping from my wet hair.
I stand there until goosebumps prick my skin, feeling whole and powerful in my own body for maybe the first time ever.
I feel like I could conquer the world.
I hurry to grab towels from the shelf, twisting one around my hair and wrapping another around my body before heading to the bedroom’s gaping window.
Frigid wind blasts through the opening, but I find it slightly more bearable than this morning. Still, I can’t wander around naked indefinitely. I search for last night’s discarded clothes. Maybe I can clean and mend them?
But looking around the floor, I only see snow drifts and scattered black feathers. I return to the window, gripping the wall and leaning out slightly to breathe the sharp, crystalline air.
Did he leave this way? He’d simply closed the bathroom door, saying he’d be gone awhile. “Don’t leave the bedroom,” was his final growled instruction.
The window opens at knee height and spans almost the entire wall. There are glass panes that might close via some cranking mechanism, but I can’t figure out how they work. Plus, if he left through here, he probably won’t appreciate returning to find glass blocking his entrance.
I’m sure he’d just crash right through, eliminating any hope of a warm night’s sleep.
Though honestly, last night was surprisingly cozy with those massive wings enveloping us like a living blanket.
I shake my head, deciding not to analyze that too deeply. I’ll ask about closing the window tonight.
I’m about to retreat before I freeze solid when a glint on the distant horizon catches my attention.
I pause and squint into the distance.
Is that just more ice and snow?
I squint harder, gripping the window frame and leaning further out.
There—that glint again. I blink and strain my eyes, wishing desperately for a telescope.
Wait, is that a?—
I slip, momentum yanking me forward. I shriek and barely manage to scrabble for a better grip before tumbling out completely.
But the towel around my hair flutters away into the wind, caught and whipping violently before falling toward the dark lake below.
“Dammit!” I gasp, heart hammering.
Instead of retreating like any sane person would, I rush back to the bathroom.
I grab the thick glass tumbler from our meal that he’d let me bring up for drinking water.
I need to hurry back before the light fades completely. Here in winter, days are frustratingly brief. I navigate carefully through the blown snow and feathers to the window, holding up the glass and angling it until it provides slight magnification.
Holy shit!
