Early spring snow on the piano keys

Chapter 1 The diagnosis was clear: three months. That was all I had left. My phone rang. It was my wife. "Joseph," she said, "you need to come on the reality show *The Last Journey* with me." My instinct was to refuse, but she didn’t give me the chance. "I lost a bet to Stephen. The hundredth one." "You have to go. And on the final day, we leave the show together." For three years, Helen had made a hundred bets with me, every single one for the sake of her so-called "savior," Stephen. She’d lost ninety-nine times. The cruelest loss was the one that took our child—just seven months along. "Fine," I said. "I’ll go." Consider it my final journey with her. She just didn’t know it would be our last. *** *The Last Journey* was filming in a small northern town nestled at the foot of a mountain range. Light snow was falling when we arrived. Flakes settled on my shoulders, their biting chill sending a dull ache deep into my lungs. I coughed reflexively, covering my mouth with a handkerchief. When I pulled it away, a stark, vivid red stained the pure white cotton. Tucking the handkerchief back into my pocket as if nothing had happened, I looked up at Helen walking ahead. She wore a camel-colored coat, her posture straight and elegant—and just as distant and cold as the landscape around us. Not once did she glance back, as though I weren’t even there. The production crew rushed over, all smiles. "Helen! Joseph! Welcome, welcome! Your room’s all ready. You must be tired from the trip—please, rest first." Helen gave a slight, indifferent nod and walked straight toward the log cabin the crew had arranged. Pushing the door open, a wave of warm air greeted us. The room was spacious and cozy, dominated by a large bed covered with a soft wool blanket. According to the show’s rules, all married couples had to share a room during the trip. I started to wheel my suitcase inside, but Helen suddenly turned, her gaze icy. "You take the sofa." I froze. Her beautiful features were etched with pure disgust, as if sharing a bed with me would be unbearable. "I made a bet with Stephen," she said. "For this entire trip, you won’t lay a finger on me." Another bet.