The evening was winding down, with clusters of guests lingering throughout the dimly lit ballroom. Quiet conversations intertwined with the faint strains of the final song as Elsa and Jack stood near the edge, observing the celebration. At the centre of the room, Anna and Kristoff were surrounded by well-wishers, their smiles softening after a long, emotional day.
As Anna and Kristoff began moving toward the front, Elsa's steps faltered. Her gaze stayed fixed on Anna, the hesitation in her stride reflecting a storm of unresolved emotions. The argument from days before lingered, a painful weight pressing on her heart. Fingers tightening around her arm, she tried to steady herself.
A gentle nudge from Jack broke her thoughts. His shoulder brushed hers, his unspoken comfort underscored by a quiet, steady question. "Are you okay?"
A small, forced smile formed on her lips. "Yeah, I am," she replied, though her voice carried a caution she couldn't entirely hide.
When Anna glanced up, their eyes met briefly. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face before a deliberate brightness replaced it. She stepped forward, extending her hands. "You made it through the whole night," she teased, her tone light yet tinged with vulnerability.
Elsa hesitated but eventually accepted Anna's hands. "I wouldn't leave without congratulating you again. Tonight has been beautiful." Her tone was measured, her cool grip firm but distant. "You looked stunning, Anna."
The compliment brought a softer smile to Anna's face, though her eyes searched Elsa's for something unspoken. Her fingers pressed lightly against Elsa's, offering a silent plea for connection. "It wouldn't have been the same without you here," she murmured, sincerity underscoring her quiet voice.
Kristoff, sensing the fragile moment, cleared his throat and stepped back. "I should check on my mom. Thanks for coming, Elsa," he said with a quick nod, kissing Anna's cheek before adding, "Catch you in a minute."
His departure left a stillness between the sisters. Jack, attuned to the shift, gave Elsa a reassuring look before stepping aside, giving them the space they needed.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant murmurs of guests and the soft rustling of leaves outside. Anna finally spoke, her tone careful yet sincere. "We haven't really had a chance to... talk."
Elsa cut her off with a shake of her head. "We don't have to," she said, her voice sharper than intended. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she fought to contain the tremor of emotion in her words. "Tonight is about you. About your happiness. That's all that matters."
A slight frown formed on Anna's face, her lips tightening. "You always do that," she said softly. "Leave no room for-" The sentence hung unfinished as she inhaled deeply, trying to keep her frustration at bay.
Guilt flashed in Elsa's eyes before vanishing behind a carefully composed mask. Her posture stiffened, as if bracing herself. "This isn't the time," she replied, the defensiveness in her tone unmistakable.
Anna studied her for a moment, her expression caught between hurt and determination. Choosing not to press, she softened her voice. "It still meant a lot that you stayed," she said, each word weighted with sincerity. "Even with...everything."
A knot tightened in Elsa's chest, but she offered a small nod, her throat tightening against a flood of emotion. "You deserve this," she whispered. "All of it." Her breath wavered slightly. "I'm happy for you."
The silence that followed felt different, less heavy and a little more open. Anna stepped closer, pulling Elsa into a tentative hug. The gesture felt fragile, as though acknowledging all that hadn't been said. Elsa hesitated, her hands hovering before she returned the embrace. The moment lingered, just long enough to let something imperceptible shift.
When they pulled apart, Jack's reappearance broke the tension with impeccable timing. His teasing grin lit the space like a warm breeze. "So, are we dancing until they kick us out, or calling it a night?"
Anna let out a soft laugh, her expression lightening. "You should be grateful you didn't trip earlier."
Feigning indignation, Jack crossed his arms and gasped. "My footwork is flawless, thank you very much."
Elsa found herself chuckling quietly, the tension in her shoulders beginning to ease. She shared a brief, understanding look with Anna before taking a small step back. "Nana's waiting," she said, her voice steadier now.
Anna's smile softened, warmth returning to her eyes. "Goodnight, Elsa. Thank you for everything," she said before turning to rejoin the other guests.
Elsa gave a slight nod, returning the quiet farewell, and started toward the exit. Jack followed closely, his hand brushing hers as they approached Nana.
Under the chandelier's soft glow, the older woman stood waiting, her presence steady despite the cane she leaned on. There was a quiet dignity in her posture, a reflection of years of grace, though the warmth in her gaze betrayed a tenderness that ran even deeper. As Elsa and Jack drew near, relief softened her eyes.
"There you are," Nana greeted warmly, her voice rich with experience. "I was beginning to think you'd slipped out into the night without a proper goodbye."
Jack stepped forward with a playful grin, his tone teasing. "Tempting, but we wouldn't dare risk your wrath."
Nana raised a single, arching eyebrow, her expression both sharp and affectionate. "Wrath, you say? Hardly." She glanced knowingly at Elsa before adding, "Though I've been known to keep people in line."
With a mock bow, Jack stepped aside, letting Elsa move to the forefront.
As Nana shifted her attention fully to Elsa, her gaze lingered, studying her granddaughter with quiet intensity. Though Elsa's exterior remained composed, Nana noticed the subtle signs...the slight tremble in her hands, the faint tension in her stance.
"You've been strong tonight," Nana said softly, her tone dropping to something meant just for Elsa. "Stronger than you know. But that kind of strength...I know what it costs."
The words struck a chord deep within Elsa. Her hands tightened instinctively at her sides, her resolve wavering under Nana's piercing kindness. She looked down, unable to meet the steady gaze, the weight of her emotions pressing harder against the walls she'd built.
Nana's voice gentled further, yet it carried an unwavering firmness. "Never think my love for you has ever come from pity...not then, and certainly not now. My pride in you, Elsa, my dear...it's because of the woman you've become. Pity has no place here."
Elsa blinked rapidly, the ache in her chest swelling at the unvarnished truth in Nana's words. For a moment, her carefully constructed defences crumbled. Her lips trembled as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Nana's cheek. It was a gesture of gratitude, love, and unspoken vulnerability.
"I love you," Elsa whispered, her voice catching, her hand lingering on Nana's arm. In those three words lay everything she couldn't put into sentences.
Nana's gaze remained unwavering, her eyes glistening now. After a moment, she replied, her voice steady but thick with emotion, "I know, my sweet girl. And I love you, too. Always."
Jack, ever perceptive, broke the weight of the moment with his usual light-hearted ease. "We'd better get going before Nana accuses us of overstaying our welcome."
Nana huffed, though her tone held no bite. "Ah, Jack, are you ever serious?"
Faking indignation, he placed a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I'm the very image of seriousness."
Nana chuckled softly before turning back to Elsa. Her voice softened again as she said, "Goodnight, deary Rest well, and remember, my door is always open to you. No matter the hour, no matter the day."
Elsa nodded, her gaze lingering on Nana's face one last time. "Goodnight, Nana," she said quietly, the words carrying the weight of her gratitude.
"Safe travels, both of you," Nana called as they slipped into the cool night.
Outside, the air was crisp, biting against their skin, but the warmth of Nana's unwavering support lingered. It followed Elsa like a balm, softening the sharp edges of her racing thoughts. Beside her, Jack walked in comforting silence, his steady presence a quiet assurance as they moved into the enveloping calm of the night.
And there just a few steps away from the exit stood Sebastion.
Sebastian stood by the car, his figure lit by the streetlight as he waited for them. "You're on time for once, Mr. Overland," he teased, the familiar smile softening the tension in Elsa's chest for a brief moment.
Jack gave a little chuckle and pointed at Elsa. "It was all her, I promise."
The venue's glow bathed Elsa's back in soft, golden light as she stole a final glance. The laughter and music spilling from inside felt distant, muffled by the rising tide of unease in her chest.
Jack walked beside her, his steady presence a quiet comfort. His hand brushed hers again, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts had taken root elsewhere, pulling her into a whirlwind of memories that made her chest tight and her breaths shallow.
When her eyes caught sight of the shadowed figures near the driveway, she froze, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. It was them. Her parents.
Jack must have noticed her sudden halt because his hand pressed more firmly against hers. "You don't have to do this," he said gently, his voice low.
Elsa shook her head, her jaw clenching as she fought to steady her breathing. A rush of cold washed over her, prickling at her skin as though the past had clawed its way back into the present. Her voice came out distant, almost mechanical. "I have to."
The short walk toward them felt agonizingly long. Her legs were leaden, her body moving without her consent. Each step brought a wave of unwelcome sensations...the sting of a slap, the oppressive silence of her locked room, the sharp edges of cutting words that still echoed inside her mind. She clenched and unclenched her hands to regain some control, her nails biting into her palms.
Her mother, Iduna, stood just outside the faint glow of the streetlight, her posture impeccable, her face blank and cold. Her father, Agnarr loomed behind her, a shadow of disinterest.
Neither looked at Elsa as she approached.
"You didn't even talk to me today," Elsa said, her voice tight and clipped, though she could feel anger rising beneath the surface. "Not a single word. Why?"
Agnarr sighed, the sound carrying the same sharpness as his glare. "And yet, you chose to make it all about you. Forcing Sofia to include you in her toast…and now you're here again, demanding attention."
Her jaw dropped slightly, her breath hitching. The words hit her like a physical blow, making her feel dizzy. She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, but it came out strangled. "I don't even know why I bother," she managed through a tight throat, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I thought maybe, just maybe, today could be different. I thought that if I were here, if I showed up…maybe, just maybe…you'd…Never mind."
She took a step back, her stomach twisting with a sickening mix of rage and despair.
Iduna's lips pressed into a thin line, her tone cold as she spoke. "Maybe what, Elsa? What more do you expect from us? You were given a warm house, food on the table, an education, and everything a child wants. We did what was expected of us. What more could you possibly want?"
Elsa's fists clenched at her sides. The dismissive words pierced through her like shards of ice. She dug her nails deeper into her palms, the faint sting keeping her grounded against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Her voice broke as she choked out the truth. "I wanted to feel loved, Mother. I wanted to be like Anna. I wanted…I wanted to be enough. I wanted you to see me. Really see me."
Iduna's laugh was sharp, icy. It sliced through Elsa's fragile composure. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Elsa, especially not on your sister's wedding day."
Her head spun, the edges of the world around her fading into an indistinct blur. A deep ache spread through her chest, constricting her ribs. She dug her heels into the ground as if bracing herself against an invisible storm.
"What is wrong with you?!" The words burst out before Elsa could stop them. Her voice cracked under the weight of everything she had bottled up for years. "You always make me feel crazy when I try to talk to you. When I try to be real with you. Every time."
Iduna's lips tightened, her expression shifting into one of icy disdain. "You think it was easy, Elsa? Trying to love the girl who almost killed me, and especially someone who looks like you, acts like you. And we did our best! But this endless desire for more, it's frustrating."
"I was a child, Mother!" Elsa's voice rose, trembling with raw grief and fury. "My looks?" She grabbed at her hair as if trying to pull the venom of her mother's words from her very being. "This hair was the reason you hated me? And how can a child kill you? You decided to have me!"
She swayed slightly, clutching at her arms as nausea bubbled up. The ache in her chest deepened, and her vision blurred as the memories clawed their way into her consciousness. Her voice dropped to a hollow whisper. "All I ever wanted was for you to love me."
Agnarr stood silent, his face unreadable. Elsa's trembling hands went to her arms as if the remembered marks were fresh and aching. "You hurt me," she said, her words wavering but fierce. "I remember how you grabbed me when I broke that vase. How your nails dug so deep I bled…and how you locked me in my room. I bled and screamed for you both. Do you even remember that?"
Neither parent replied, the air thick with their apathy.
The numbness gave way to a fire inside her, the desperate anger of someone who had been silenced for too long. "You took my childhood from me," Elsa spat, her voice shaking. "And now it's my life that's slipping away because you couldn't love me. You broke me. And for what? Because of some stupid nonsense? I can't even recognize myself. I don't know what love is...or anything is."
Her breathing turned shallow and uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The world spun as her throat tightened, her legs nearly giving out. She swayed, but Jack's hand shot out, steadying her before she could collapse completely. She shook him off, though, desperate to finish.
"I'm not asking you to apologize," Elsa said, her voice dropping to a weary monotone. "You'll never admit how much you hurt me. And that's fine. I just-" Her eyes glistened as she struggled for words, her lips trembling. "I just needed to say it."
The silence was deafening.
Her final words barely broke through the oppressive stillness. "I'll forget you...not because you deserve it, but because I have to let go."
She turned and walked away without waiting for a reply. The cool night air stung her face, her steps uneven as the weight of the conversation pressed down on her. Jack caught her hand as she reached the car. His presence grounded her, though the tremors in her body wouldn't stop.
Halfway towards the car, she paused, turning back with tears streaming freely. Her voice cracked as she called out, "I hope one day…you realize what you've done because no matter what you did, I always loved you."
Her voice echoed in the still air, but her parents remained unmoving, indifferent silhouettes against the night. Elsa closed her eyes as Jack opened the car door for her. He helped her get inside and then joined her.
Sebastian stood by the car, observing silently. His sharp gaze briefly caught Elsa's bloodshot eyes, but he said nothing as he got in, and started the engine without a word.
The car rolled down the driveway, the faint crunch of gravel beneath the tires barely audible over Elsa's raw, broken sobs. She leaned into Jack, and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her with a gentleness that seemed to shield her from the weight of her grief.
The tears came in torrents now, hot and unstoppable. She wept for everything...for the love she had sought and never found, for the hurt that had festered for years, for the hope she had clung to despite knowing better. The sobs shook her body, unrelenting and guttural, as though all the years of pain had condensed into this one moment.
Jack didn't say a word, understanding that silence was more comforting than any attempt to lessen what couldn't be undone. He held her tighter, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles on her back. Each stroke was a silent promise that she wasn't alone.
"I'm sorry," Elsa whispered between sobs, her voice fractured. "I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have said that."
"No," Jack murmured firmly, cutting off her spiralling thoughts without raising his voice. "You did nothing wrong, Elsa."
The steady sound of his voice steadied her, even as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. She clung to him, her hand gripping his shirt sleeve like a lifeline.
"I thought-" She paused, gasping through the tears that choked her words. "I thought it would be different. Just this once. I thought they'd see me, hear me."
Jack rested his chin lightly atop her head, his other hand brushing strands of her hair away from her damp cheeks. "They didn't deserve you," he said, his voice quiet but resolute.
His words undid her completely. Her body shuddered against his as grief poured out in waves. She pressed her face into his chest, wanting to shut out everything else...every memory, every accusation, every hollow exchange with her parents.
The car was dark and silent save for the hum of the engine and Elsa's soft, ragged breaths. She finally spoke, her voice frail. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to let go."
"You've been carrying this pain for too long," Jack said gently, his hand tracing soothing patterns on her back. "But you'll heal, piece by piece."
She nodded weakly, closing her eyes as exhaustion swept over her. The constant ache in her chest, the sting of rejection, the gut-wrenching sorrow...all of it felt overwhelming. But Jack's touch, his quiet reassurances, gave her a flicker of something she hadn't felt in years.
Hope.
The headlights illuminated the winding road ahead, and the trees began to thin, revealing the soft glow of the cottage in the distance. By then, Elsa's sobs had subsided to quiet hiccups, though her body still trembled.
Sebastian pulled into the gravel driveway, cutting the engine. The car fell into silence once more. Jack loosened his grip just enough to look at her. "Let's go inside," he said, his voice tender but steady.
Without speaking, Elsa nodded. Weak and drained, she let his arm around her shoulders guide her forward. Each step toward the cottage, a place where she could finally begin to breathe again.
The weight of the evening clung to her, making each movement heavier than the last. Beside her, Jack's steady presence anchored her, his hand firm yet gentle, as if silently encouraging her to take one more step. The distant sounds of the night, the rustling leaves and the occasional creak of the wooden path were drowned out by the storm of emotions still roaring inside her.
Inside the cottage, warmth enveloped them, a soft glow from the fireplace bathing the space. The distant echoes of earlier conversations buzzed faintly in Elsa's mind, but they began to dissolve as the familiarity of the room eased some of her tension. Jack guided her upstairs, toward the bedroom without a word. His hand stayed on her back, a quiet reminder that she wasn't alone.
At the edge of the bed, her body sank into the mattress, surrendering to the comfort it offered. Jack knelt to remove her heels, his touch was careful and his actions deliberate. He paused, glancing up at her tear-streaked face.
"Let me help you," he murmured.
There was no resistance. She allowed him to take over, her body too spent to protest. He reached for her pyjamas, holding them out for her as though the simple act could convey all the tenderness he couldn't express in words. Her fingers brushed against his as she took them, her gaze unfocused, staring somewhere beyond the soft fabric.
Each task became a quiet ritual of care.
Jack undid the clasps of her jewelry with deft fingers, each piece placed gently on the nightstand as though they carried her pain. He guided her to the bathroom, his steps unhurried, his posture calm despite the turmoil he likely felt. Dampening a soft towel, he pressed the warm fabric to her skin, wiping away the makeup that had served as her armour for the night. With each stroke, the facade fell, leaving her bare and vulnerable. She closed her eyes, a long, shuddering breath escaping her lips as her shoulders slumped.
Back in the bedroom, the weight of the day seemed to press down even harder. Jack helped her into bed, pulling the covers around her with care. As she curled onto her side, her eyes flitted between the room and the void of her thoughts. His hand rested against her arm, grounding her.
Settling onto the floor beside her, he took her hand in his, his thumb grazing her knuckles in soothing patterns. The soft hum of the cottage filled the silence between them. When she tightened her grip slightly, the smallest hint of relief crossed his face.
"You're not alone," he whispered, his voice steady despite the rawness in his tone.
Tears welled up again, unbidden, sliding silently down her cheeks. Jack's hand moved to her hair, his fingers brushing through the tangled strands. Each motion seemed to unravel a thread of tension she had carried for years. Her breathing grew slower, more even, as exhaustion crept in.
Eventually, her trembling subsided, her breath evening out as a fragile stillness softened her face. Jack lingered at her side, his gaze fixed on the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, as though ensuring her slumber was genuine and unbroken. With a quiet exhale, he rose to his feet, his movements careful to avoid disturbing her fragile rest. Leaving the door slightly ajar, he allowed a sliver of hallway light to pool gently into the room, its faint glow tracing the edges of the furniture like a whispered assurance.
In the silence of another room, he began to strip away the day's heavy trappings. The suit, stiff and suffocating, fell away piece by piece, each discarded item bearing its own weight of unspoken grief. With every button undone, a sigh escaped his lips that did little to lighten the heaviness in his chest. Swapping the formal attire for an old sweater and worn trousers, he rolled his shoulders, though the knots of tension refused to unravel completely.
His steps carried him downstairs to the quiet of the living room. The couch, more familiar than comforting, welcomed him with an indifferent creak as he lowered himself onto its cushion. He leaned back, palms pressing into his closed eyes, as though shielding himself from the incessant tide of thoughts. The wear of the evening settled into his bones, an ache too deep for the modest solace of the worn upholstery to ease.
Fingers twitched faintly against his side, a restless yearning to reach for her again, to offer solace in ways both tangible and silent. Yet, he remained where he was, stretched out across the couch, the chill of the night settling in around him. His arm draped across his chest, rising and falling faintly with each measured breath, as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
The soft echoes of the evening lingered, the memory of Elsa's anguish a living thing that pulsed faintly in his chest. The image of her fragile form, curled into his arms as she unravelled, refused to leave him. He could still feel the slight weight of her resting against him, still hear the trembling breaths that followed every sob.
Jack closed his eyes, longing for respite, but it remained elusive. Tomorrow loomed too close, a spectre he couldn't push away. Their lives would begin to pull apart, strand by strand. Tomorrow, they would face what neither wanted to fully name.
Yet tonight, he would hold on to what remained. Even if only as a steady presence in her periphery, he would be there, absorbing the silence of the darkened house alongside her distant breaths. Sleep claimed him fitfully, his mind unwilling to fully relent to exhaustion's pull.
The weight of what lay ahead didn't dissipate in the embrace of slumber, but his resolve didn't waver. Tomorrow, things will change irreversibly. But tonight, he could still anchor himself to her heartache, her vulnerability, and the quiet ache that tied them together in these fleeting moments.
For now, that was enough.