The Fateful Ski Trail
The wheels of the suburban train clattered rhythmically against the rails as it sped through the countryside. Towering pines lined the tracks, their branches dusted with snow, their shadows stretching long under the pale winter sun. Inside the carriage, a lively group of medical students chattered excitedly, their skis stacked neatly by the door.
The trip had been arranged by Jake Harrington—a handsome, athletic man, the pride of their university and a champion cross-country skier. Every winter, he competed for his college, never placing lower than second. His father held a prominent position in the city council, which only added to Jake’s local celebrity status.
Just before Christmas, Jake had suggested a getaway to a secluded ski lodge deep in the forest—somewhere few knew about. Most of the group had agreed, though none were serious skiers. But why pass up a chance for fresh air and adventure?
Emma had only ever skied during school P.E. lessons. Yet when Jake invited her, how could she say no? She’d follow him anywhere, just to be near him.
On the train, she nestled against his shoulder, lost in bliss, oblivious to the jealous glances Alex Morrison kept throwing her way. And he wasn’t the only one watching. Angela’s sharp eyes flickered between Jake and Emma, her expression tight with disapproval. *What does he see in her?*
Emma wondered the same. So many beautiful girls at university, yet he’d chosen her—quiet, studious, nothing special. Recently, he’d even talked about marriage—*after* graduation, of course. His father had made him promise: no wedding until he had his degree, or the doors to the city’s best hospital would stay shut.
A year and a half still remained. Anything could happen. But Emma wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Here, pressed against Jake in the warmth of the train, she was simply happy.
They stepped onto the platform, breath frosting in the crisp air, and paused to admire the snow-laden woods where the lodge lay hidden. The cold invigorated them as they trudged forward, skis slung over their shoulders, laughing at nothing, drunk on youth and the promise of Christmas.
After settling into their cabins, Jake wasted no time rallying everyone to the trails.
*”We’ll start with the short loop—five kilometres. Keep your phones on. Call if anything happens. But it’s safe. No wildlife, well-groomed tracks. Stay close—I’ll lead, Alex covers the rear.”*
Emma hesitated before joining the line. She knew she’d slow them down. Taking up the very back, she felt Alex’s eyes on her. Jake noticed but said nothing.
Within minutes, the frontrunners—Jake among them—vanished into the trees. Emma lagged further and further behind. Her skis slipped on the packed snow, her legs burned, her fingers stiffened in the cold. Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps. Behind her, Alex’s skis whispered against the snow.
*”Go ahead!”* she called, glancing back.
But he kept his slow, steady pace just behind her. She cursed herself for coming. She should’ve stayed by the fire, sipping tea, waiting like the sensible ones.
Then—a sharp *crack* from the trees. Startled, Emma stumbled, her legs tangling. A searing pain shot through her right leg. She screamed.
*”What happened?”* Alex was beside her in an instant.
*”My—my leg,”* she whimpered through clenched teeth.
He crouched, blocking the trail, and gently inspected her shin. She flinched, crying out.
*”It’s broken.”* He fumbled for his phone—no signal.
*”Jake’s fast. If he does a second lap, he’ll be back soon,”* Alex muttered.
*”He said just one loop,”* she sobbed.
*”We’re halfway. No choice but to wait.”*
She crumpled into the snow, shivering violently.
*”I’ll try further up—might get a signal. I won’t leave you.”*
He skied ahead, just far enough—then turned, waving his phone. *”Got it!”*
After a rushed call, he returned. *”Jake’s coming.”*
Noticing her trembling, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her. Emma nodded weakly, tears freezing on her cheeks. Alex stamped his feet, jumping to keep warm. Time dragged.
Then—movement. Jake appeared, gliding toward them, dragging a plastic sled behind him.
*”What happened?”* His voice was calm, but his jaw tightened at the sight.
Emma couldn’t speak, shaking too hard.
*”I’ll remove her skis. We’ll get her on the sled,”* Jake said, his tone clipped.
Every touch made her cry out. Finally, Jake snapped. *”Emma, work with us! Or do you want to freeze?”*
Alex stayed quiet. Jake knew best.
They managed to lift her onto the sled. *”Lie down,”* Jake ordered, gentler now.
Alex draped his coat over her, tucking her skis beside her. Jake looped a strap across his chest and pulled her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Alex stumbled after them, numb with cold.
At the lodge, hands rubbed life back into his frozen cheeks. Someone thrust a mug of tea into his hands. Emma lay on a sofa, her leg bandaged, pain dulled by morphine.
Two hours later, an ambulance arrived. As they loaded Emma inside, she waited for Jake to climb in after her.
*”I can’t leave the others,”* he said flatly. *”I’ll call.”*
She cried the whole way back, until exhaustion and drugs pulled her under.
The break was clean—no surgery needed. A cast, a few days in hospital. Alex, his face raw from frostbite, was sent home.
The next day, he visited, arms full of oranges and a book.
*”Why did I even go?”* Emma groaned. *”Now I’m stuck inside for Christmas…”*
*”We’ll be stuck together,”* Alex joked, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
She barely heard him. She’d imagined Christmas at Jake’s family estate, by the fire. Now—nothing.
Jake called once. He didn’t come Sunday. Or Monday. Only on Tuesday, for five minutes.
*”He had to stay with the others,”* she defended when Alex hinted Jake didn’t care.
Then her friend Sarah arrived with news—Jake and Angela. *”He’s taking her to his place for Christmas.”*
The words hit like a slap. Emma buried her face in her pillow, sobbing.
Two days later, Alex took her home in a taxi. He arranged extensions with her professors, drove her to exams, stayed close, unwavering.
New Year’s Eve came. Emma sat with her parents, miserable. As the clock struck midnight, she made a wish—*let the man I love stay by my side.*
But young hearts don’t always know what they want.
Her leg healed. She returned to university. Jake ignored her. Alex stayed.
That summer, she married him. She didn’t love him—not yet. But he loved her enough for both.
After graduation, they moved to Alex’s hometown. Emma had a son.
Five years passed. They returned for a medical conference, visiting her parents along the way. Alex had grown into himself—glasses suited him, lending him an air of quiet brilliance. Emma glowed, softer now, motherhood wearing well on her.
Then—Jake. He walked past without recognition, though whispers followed him. *His father’s still pulling strings. Married, but never faithful.*
Emma caught Alex’s tense expression.
*”What? You’re not jealous, are you?”*
*”Maybe,”* he admitted. *”I know you married me to spite him.”*
She laughed. *”Fool. I don’t need anyone but you. Yes, it took time—but I love you now.”* She hesitated, then smiled. *”And our son’s getting a sister.”*
There it was. We fall for the dazzling ones. But, as the song goes—*that kind of love only brings heartache.*
Emma’s New Year’s wish *had* come true. The right man had stayed.
She just hadn’t known it then.
Make your wishes at midnight. At Christmas. Every day. The universe listens—just not always the way you expect.
