The Fatal Ski Trail
The wheels of the commuter train clattered merrily along the tracks. Towering pines lined the railway, their branches framing the low winter sun. A group of medical students chattered loudly, their skis propped near the carriage entrance.
The trip had been organised by Jake Harrington—tall, athletic, and the pride of the university, a semi-professional cross-country skier. Every winter, he competed for the university’s honour, never placing lower than second. His father held a high-ranking position in the city council, making Jake something of a local celebrity.
Just before Christmas, Jake suggested a winter getaway to a secluded lodge deep in the forest—a perfect spot for skiing and relaxation. Most of the group agreed, though none were skiers like Jake. But who could resist a weekend in the fresh air?
Emily had only ever skied during school P.E. lessons. But how could she say no when Jake himself invited her? She’d do anything to be near him.
In the train, she leaned against his shoulder, basking in happiness, oblivious to the jealous glances from Daniel Whittaker. And he wasn’t the only one—Angela kept stealing uneasy looks at Jake and Emily. *What does he even see in her?* her expression seemed to say.
Emily wondered the same. So many pretty girls around, yet he’d chosen her—the quiet, studious one. He’d even mentioned marriage after graduation. His influential father had made him promise not to wed before getting his degree, or else lose his support in securing a position at the city’s best hospital.
With eighteen months left, anything could change. But Emily didn’t think that far ahead. Pressed against Jake in the train, she felt cherished.
Stepping onto the platform, they admired the snow-draped forest hiding the lodge. The crisp air invigorated them as they trudged through the snow, laughing, young and carefree before the New Year.
After settling into wooden cabins, Jake rallied everyone for a warm-up ski.
*”We’ll take the short loop first—three miles. Keep your phones handy. Call if anything happens, though it’s safe here. No wild animals. The trail’s well-groomed. Stick together—I’ll lead, Daniel takes the rear.”*
Emily hesitated. She knew she’d slow them down, so she positioned herself last. Daniel fell in behind her. Jake noticed but said nothing.
The faster skiers—Jake among them—pulled ahead and vanished into the woods. Emily struggled. Her skis slipped on the packed snow, her legs burned, her hands turned stiff. The freezing air scorched her throat. Behind her, Daniel’s skis whispered against the trail.
*”Go ahead!”* she called over her shoulder.
But he kept pace. She cursed herself for joining—she should’ve stayed by the fire, sipping tea. Then a branch cracked nearby, startling her. She lost her balance and fell. A sharp pain shot through her leg. She screamed.
*”What happened?”* Daniel knelt beside her.
*”My leg—”* she gasped through clenched teeth.
He gently examined her shin. She flinched and cried out.
*”It’s broken.”* He pulled out his phone—no signal.
*”Don’t cry. Jake skis fast. If he loops back, he’ll be here soon.”*
*”He said just one lap,”* she whimpered.
*”He’ll finish first and circle back. We’re halfway—just hold on.”*
She shivered on the snow, tears freezing on her cheeks.
*”I’ll check ahead for signal. I won’t go far.”*
Moments later, he shouted, *”Got it!”*
After calling, he returned. *”Jake’s coming.”*
Noticing her tremors, he draped his jacket over her.
The wait felt endless before Jake finally appeared, dragging a plastic sled.
*”What happened?”* he asked briskly.
Emily could barely speak through chattering teeth.
*”We’ll move her onto the sled,”* Jake said, as if instructing a child.
*”The snowmobile’s gone. We’ll have to pull her.”*
Emily cried out at every jolt. Jake snapped, *”Stop acting helpless! Do you want to freeze?”*
Daniel stayed silent—Jake knew best.
They secured her on the sled, Daniel covering her with his coat. Jake hauled her effortlessly, Daniel trailing, numb with cold.
Back at the lodge, someone rubbed Daniel’s frostbitten face, thrusting tea into his hands. Emily lay on the sofa, her leg bandaged, sedated.
The ambulance arrived hours later. Jake refused to accompany them—*”I can’t leave the group. She’ll be fine.”*
Emily sobbed the entire ride.
The fracture was clean, no surgery needed. Daniel, his cheeks raw, visited daily with oranges and books.
*”Why did I even go? Now I’ll miss New Year’s…”* she lamented.
*”We’ll stay in. My face would scare people anyway,”* he joked weakly.
She’d dreamed of celebrating with Jake at his family’s estate. Instead, he called just once. Visited for five minutes on Tuesday.
*”He had to stay with the group,”* she defended when Daniel hinted Jake didn’t care.
Then her friend Sarah revealed Jake had flirted with Angela at the lodge—he’d invited *her* for New Year’s.
Emily sobbed into her pillow.
Two days later, Daniel took her home. He arranged catch-up lectures, drove her to exams, stood by her like a loyal knight.
New Year’s Eve passed gloomily with her parents. At midnight, she wished for one thing—*Don’t let him leave me.*
But fate had other plans.
Her leg healed. Jake ignored her; Daniel stayed. That summer, she married him, knowing she didn’t love him—not yet. After graduation, they moved to his hometown. A son followed.
Five years later, they returned for a training course. Daniel, now bespectacled and distinguished, looked every bit the rising professor. Emily, softened by motherhood, glowed.
At the university, they spotted Jake. He pretended not to know them. A colleague muttered, *”Daddy’s still pulling strings. Married, but still chases anything in a skirt.”*
Noticing Daniel’s tension, Emily teased, *”Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”*
*”A bit. I remember how you pined for him. Married me out of spite.”*
*”Silly. I need no one but you. Yes, it took time—but I love you now.”* She smiled. *”And our son’s getting a sister.”*
We fall for the dazzling ones. But as the song goes—*that kind of love only brings heartache.* Emily’s New Year’s wish had come true. Her beloved stood beside her—she just hadn’t seen it at first.
Make your wishes—at New Year’s, at Christmas, every day. The universe listens. Just not always as expected.
