Frozen Goodbyes: A Winter Night in Ohio

“Don’t regret it. If you regret it, you never loved him.”

My mother’s voice sliced through the heavy silence of my bedroom, sharp as the January wind rattling my window. Her silhouette filled the doorway, arms folded over her Ohio State sweatshirt, eyes fixed on me with that mixture of concern and exasperation I’d come to know too well.

“Don’t regret it. If he left you, he never loved you,” she said again, shaking her head. I could hear the faint hum of the furnace kicking in downstairs, fighting against the minus twenty-five degrees outside. “You’re not really going out in that dress, are you? It’s freezing. You’ll get sick.”

I tugged at the satin ribbon around my waist, refusing to let her see the tremble in my hands. “It’s just down the street, Mom. I won’t freeze. Besides, I’m not going to Madison’s birthday party in jeans.”

Mom sighed, stepping into the room to straighten my dress, her fingers lingering a second too long. “I just worry, Jules. You haven’t been yourself since—”

“Since Brian dumped me?” I snapped, voice rising before I could stop it. “You can say it, Mom. Everyone knows. The whole school’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Her face softened. She brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “He doesn’t deserve your tears. And you don’t deserve to feel lonely, not tonight.”

But I did feel lonely. I felt like every inch of me had been hollowed out and left to freeze. The dress, the party, all of it was just armor—one last attempt to convince myself I was still worthy of being seen.

I turned away from her and stared out the window. The streetlights cast long shadows across the snowbanks, and the night seemed endless. “I’ll be home by midnight,” I said, grabbing my coat and forcing a smile that I hoped looked real.

Downstairs, Dad was hunched over bills at the kitchen table, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He looked up as I passed, concern flickering across his face. “You sure you’re okay to go, kiddo?”

I managed a nod. “I’ll be fine, Dad. Madison’s mom is driving us.”

He tried to smile, but his eyes lingered on me a little too long. For a split second, I wondered if he saw right through me—if he knew that whenever I closed my eyes, I could still hear Brian’s voice saying goodbye.

I stepped out into the arctic night, the cold burning my legs through my tights. My breath curled in the air as I trudged to Madison’s house, party lights glowing through frosted windows. Inside, laughter spilled into the night, muffled by thick curtains and the thump of pop music.

“Julianne! You made it!” Madison squealed, pulling me into a hug that smelled of vanilla body spray. Her eyes flicked over my dress, and for a second, I felt like maybe I still belonged.

We danced, we laughed, we pretended. But as the hours dragged on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just going through the motions. Every time my phone buzzed, I hoped it was Brian—even though I knew it wouldn’t be.

Around eleven, I slipped outside for air. The backyard was empty, the snow sparkling beneath the moonlight. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself.

“Hey.”

I turned to see Tyler from my math class, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “You okay?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just needed a break.”

He kicked at the snow. “He’s an idiot, you know. Brian. Everybody thinks so.”

I laughed, surprised by the bitterness in my own voice. “Then why does it still hurt?”

Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know. But you don’t have to pretend you’re fine. Not with me.”

I looked up at the stars, blinking back tears. “I wish I could just forget him. My mom says not to regret it. That if I regret it, I never really loved him.”

Silence hung between us, heavy and honest. Tyler hesitated, then put his hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you don’t have to forget him. Maybe you just have to let yourself feel it, you know? Then one day, it won’t hurt so much.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe my mom, too. But all I could think about was how cold I felt, and how I wasn’t sure if it was the weather or the emptiness inside me.

When midnight came, Madison’s mom drove us home. I trudged up the driveway, past piles of snow, and saw the light still on in the living room. Mom was waiting, blanket draped around her shoulders. She didn’t say a word, just opened her arms, and I let myself collapse into her embrace, sobbing quietly into her shoulder.

“I’m so tired, Mom,” I whispered. “I just want it to stop hurting.”

She stroked my hair, rocking me gently. “It will, Jules. Maybe not today. But it will.”

I didn’t believe her. Not yet. But as I lay awake that night, listening to the wind howl outside, I wondered: Is letting go really as simple as everyone says? Or does a part of us always stay frozen in the past, waiting to thaw?

What do you think? Can we ever truly move on from the people we once loved, or do their shadows always linger in the corners of our hearts?