In the Frigid Apocalypse My Husband Lost His Wife With His Own Hands Chapter 13

In the Frigid Apocalypse My Husband Lost His Wife With His Own Hands Chapter 13

When Ethan was carried out, severe burns covered most of his body.

He did not reach for me.

He simply placed the master controller in my hand.

“Detonation collars. Climate-control gates. Cryogenic weapons.”

“Every system used to control the infected belongs to you now. You decide whether they stay or are

destroyed.”

At last, he had learned to give us back the right to choose.

Sophie was brought in under guard at the same time.

She would stand trial as an accomplice in the institute’s crimes.

The interrogation records showed that Sophie had not initially chosen to be registered as Ethan’s dependent.

Under Haven’s rules, anyone with cold-induced cardiomyopathy had to be registered as a Rescue Corps

member’s dependent to qualify for medical care.

She had once hated the system too.

But when that system locked me outside the walls and brought her into the climate-controlled district, she

chose to defend it.

Sophie stopped as she passed me.

“I never stole your husband.”

“He never loved me.”

“So why am I still the one who lost?”

I looked at her.

“You didn’t lose to me.”

“You lost when staying alive became your excuse to treat other people as expendable.”

Her eyes reddened.

“Then why did you save him?”

I looked toward Ethan on the stretcher.

“Because I’m not like you.”

“I don’t need to ask whether someone loves me before I decide to save them.”

Two years later, Haven abolished the dependent-registration system.

Every person received an individual survival slot.

The frost-dead were given a new name too.

They were now called cryogenic beings.

They could choose treatment, or they could choose to keep the bodies they had.

Some returned to their families.

Others refused to see the relatives who had abandoned them.

No one else was allowed to decide for them.

Before the Deep Freeze, I had worked at a public records and benefits office.

Every day, I reviewed identity records, dependent relationships, and medical proxy designations. I had never imagined that a single line in a database could determine who was allowed to live.

Now I was the director of the Cryogenic Autonomy Center.

The first thing I did was make sure every cryogenic being received an independent legal identity.

A bag of frozen grapes kept appearing outside my office.

The first day, I had someone throw it away.

The next day, another bag appeared.

I installed a security camera.

The footage showed Ethan arriving at four in the morning, leaving the bag outside, and walking away.

He had stopped asking to see me.

He never brought up remarrying.

The core-zone accident had permanently damaged his right hand.

Unable to return to the Rescue Corps, he took a maintenance job outside the Autonomy Center.

In winter, he repaired heating systems.

In summer, he serviced subzero habitats.

Maisie liked him.

“Nora, Ethan fell again today.”

“Send him to the clinic.”

“He said he doesn’t need to go.”

“Then he can live with the pain.”

Despite what I said, I went to the clinic after work.

Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping a bandage around his hand.

The moment he saw me, he instinctively started to stand.

“Sit.”

He immediately sat back down.

I examined the injury.

“Hairline fracture. Don’t use your right hand for a month.”

“Okay.”

“Stop bringing me frozen grapes.”

“Okay.”

“And stop waiting for me.”

He fell silent.

This time, he did not agree.

I looked up.

Ethan met my eyes, his expression calm.

“I won’t ask you to come back.”

“I won’t use my injuries, my attempts to make amends, or our past to pressure you into forgiving me.”

“But whether I wait is my decision.”

“You never have to choose me.”

He placed an application form on the table.

[Temporary Work Application – Autonomous Zone for Cryogenic Beings]

Under Reason for Application, he had written:

[To learn to coexist with other forms of life as equals.]

He was not applying as my husband.

He was not applying as my dependent.

He was simply an ordinary applicant whose request required review.

“You want to work inside the autonomous zone?”

“Yes.”

“One-year probationary period.”

“Okay.”

“No special treatment.”

“I wouldn’t expect any.”

I picked up the stamp.

“Ethan Mercer.”

He looked up.

“You used to think I would never leave.”

“What do you think now?”