Rebirth: Love me Again
Chapter 368: Snowballs and Stubborn Hearts

Chapter 368: Snowballs and Stubborn Hearts

[IRAYA]

Lyander didn’t even flinch—no smug smile, no usual sarcasm. Just a heavy pause, as if he was weighing his words.

"I brought you here because . . . ," he trailed off, then gave a half-smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Because it looked like you needed a vacation. So, you’re welcome."

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. "Oh, how generous of you. You don’t get to decide when I need a break from my life. And honestly, do you really expect me to believe that?"

He remained quiet.

"I know exactly why I’m here," I continued, stepping closer. "Because you’re clearly not done annoying me. You enjoy getting under my skin. Admit it. This little snow-globe prison of yours? It’s just another game for you at my expense. Well I’m not going to give you any satisfaction from this."

His mouth curved into a slow grin—mischievous, unreadable. But there was something else in his gaze. A flicker of emotion I couldn’t pin down. Not amusement. Not arrogance.

Something quieter. Sadder, maybe.

"Believe whatever you want," he said simply, turning his back and walking toward the window.

And just like that, the conversation ended—but the confusion in my chest didn’t.

Because as much as I wanted to roll my eyes and label him as the same arrogant prince who thrived on chaos, there was something different this time.

Something I wasn’t ready to name.

Something that terrified me more than being stranded in his frozen estate.

Because it felt like . . . he had other reason of kidnapping me here.

And that unsettled me more than anything.

But that’s what made it worse. Because even when he wasn’t telling me anything, Lyander De Santis had a way of rearranging my world.

And I hated how a part of me was excited for it.

=====

By morning, I’d stopped pretending. The estate was beautiful. Impossibly so. Trails laced the hills in white.

A frozen lake glimmered beyond the trees. It was peaceful in a haunting kind of way.

I walked alone, bundled in wool and silence. Lyander didn’t follow. Maybe he was learning. Or maybe he just knew I needed the illusion of independence.

But of course, the moment had finally come that he pestered me—and by pestered, I mean dragged me into something outrageous with that maddening grin of his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It started innocently enough, with Lyander striding into the living room in full snow gear: sleek jacket, snow pants, boots, gloves, and a ridiculous amount of smugness.

I was curled up on a chair by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket and deeply committed to pretending he didn’t exist while reading the books in his library.

"We’re going out," he announced like some royal decree.

I didn’t even blink. "Go ahead. Don’t let me stop you."

"I meant you’re coming with me," he said with a half-smile that spelled trouble.

"Hard pass."

"Too bad. The board is already waiting outside."

"The board?" I echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "What board?"

"Snowskate," he said, wiggling his eyebrows like it was supposed to entice me.

I blinked slowly. "You mean that thing people do when they want to flirt with death?"

He laughed. "No, that’s base jumping. This is just fun."

I glared. "Lyander, I don’t snowskate. I don’t ski. I don’t even like snow. This whole country is a block of ice. I am not going out there to fall on my face while you pretend this is some rom-com montage."

He didn’t even argue.

Instead, he walked over, leaned down, and—with zero warning—scooped me up, blanket and all.

"Put me down!" I shrieked.

"Nope."

"Lyander De Santis!"

"Yes, Iraya Lee?"

"I swear I will bite you!"

"Then you’ll have to open your mouth, which I don’t recommend, because it’s freezing outside."

He carried me out the front door, my blanket trailing behind me like a defeated flag. I shouted. He didn’t care.

The cold slapped me in the face the moment we stepped out, and I screeched louder.

The board was waiting by the front porch. And by the board, I meant two sleek snowboards and an irritating instructor who greeted Lyander like they were old pals.

"She’s a beginner," Lyander said to him. "So let’s start with something easy."

"Easy?!" I hissed as he set me down. "You bastard!"

But before I could escape back into the warmth of my plush prison, he was already strapping the gear to my boots. I protested. He smirked.

I wriggled like a cat avoiding a bath. It didn’t matter. I was strapped in and gliding down a gentle slope before I fully processed what was happening.

Gliding is a generous word.

What I was doing looked more like an uncoordinated penguin slipping on a banana peel.

I fell.

Hard.

Face-first.

Snow up my nose.

Lyander skated to my side and crouched. "You okay?"

I spit snow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "No, you don’t. You hate how good I look in snow gear."

I tried to slap him. Missed. Fell again.

And still, he stayed beside me.

He taught me how to shift my weight. How to lean into the slope instead of against it. He held my hands—strong, warm, steady—and guided me down a slope so gently that I didn’t notice I was actually moving without falling.

Then I hit a bump and fell again.

Right into his chest.

Our bodies collided, tangled in jackets and limbs and snow.

He didn’t let go immediately. Neither did I.

For a second, we just stared at each other, breath clouding in the winter air, faces close, lips nearly brushing. My heart skittered. The snow melted where our gloves met.

And then, of course, I ruined it.

"Don’t say a word," I muttered, rolling off him.

He didn’t. But his grin said everything.

We kept going. I kept falling. He kept catching me. And somewhere between the tumbles and cursing, I laughed.

I laughed.

Really laughed.

Like I hadn’t in ages.

And Lyander, that annoying, arrogant, aggravating man, looked at me like I’d just solved every problem in the universe.