The Red Scarf
In the North, snow did more than cover the roads.
It buried things.
Footprints. Secrets. Evidence.
Things that were never meant to be found.
Ethan didn’t know it yet, but when he opened his eyes that morning, the snow he had known all his life was about to bury something far more precious than a road.
It was about to bury his life.
He woke to the sound of wind striking the walls of the wooden house. The windows trembled in their frames beneath each violent gust.
For a few seconds, Ethan remained beneath the blankets, listening.
Then he pushed one hand into the cold air.
The chill bit through his fingers immediately.
He pulled his hand back.
“Damn.”
He almost smiled at himself.
After all these years, he was still surprised by the cold.
He forced himself out of bed and stood before the mirror, running a hand through his disobedient hair. He dressed quickly, pulling on his thick black coat before wrapping a red scarf around his neck.
He paused.
The scarf was a gift from Ram.
Last winter.
He could still hear her voice.
The red doesn’t suit you.
He had laughed then.
Then I’ll wear it every day until you get used to it.
For a moment, his reflection smiled back at him.
Then the smile disappeared.
He left the room.
The stairs creaked beneath his weight. By the time he reached the kitchen, the smell of hot chocolate had already reached him.
He stopped in the doorway.
His older sister stood beside the stove, stirring a spoon through a small pot. Steam curled around her, softening the edges of the room and filling the old house with a warmth it rarely managed to keep.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“You’re here?”
She turned.
“Good morning.”
He pulled out a chair and sat, but his eyes remained on her.
“You hardly ever come by this early. Did something happen?”
She hesitated.
Only for a moment.
But Ethan noticed.
“And does your husband know you’re here?”
She sighed and placed a cup in front of him.
Her smile was gentle.
Almost convincing.
Almost.
“Mom hasn’t been feeling well for the past few days. I wanted to stay with her until she gets better.”
Ethan lowered his eyes to the cup.
He wrapped both hands around it, letting the heat seep into his fingers.
“Did she tell you?”
His sister shook her head slowly.
“The doctor says she only needs rest.”
Ethan nodded.
He took a small sip.
Then his eyes moved to the clock.
He stood.
He was almost at the door when his sister called his name.
“Ethan.”
He turned.
“If you finish early, don’t forget to bring Mom some flowers. She loves them.”
He smiled.
“I promise.”
He picked up his gloves and stepped outside.
He had no idea that, before the day was over, that promise would become the first promise he ever failed to keep.
The morning was strangely quiet.
Snow covered the roads in an unbroken sheet of white. The streetlamps were still glowing despite the approaching sunrise, their pale light bleeding through the falling snow.
Ethan walked with his hands buried in his coat pockets.
Each step sank into the snow with a soft crunch.
His breath drifted before him in white clouds.
He took out his phone to check the time.
A message from the night before was still there.
Ram
Don’t be late tomorrow... I have a surprise for you.
His mouth curved into a smile.
He read it once more.
Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket.
He didn’t know that he would never receive another message from her.
He didn’t know that, by the end of the day, those few words would become something he would remember for the rest of his life.
The glass doors of the hospital opened with a soft hiss.
Warmth rushed over him.
Then came the familiar smell of disinfectant.
Usually, the lobby was never quiet.
Nurses spoke to one another as they moved between departments. Doctors hurried through the corridors. Phones rang. Machines beeped behind closed doors. Somewhere, someone was always calling for someone else.
But that morning...
the hospital seemed to be holding its breath.
Ethan took three steps inside.
A nurse passed him.
She saw him.
And immediately lowered her eyes.
He frowned.
An old man sitting in the waiting area glanced at him, held his gaze for a second, then looked away.
Even the receptionist—the same woman who greeted him almost every morning—gave him nothing more than a stiff nod.
Ethan slowed.
Something cold settled beneath his ribs.
Not fear.
Not yet.
Something worse.
The feeling that everyone around you knows something...
and that you’re the last person to find out.
His eyes traveled down the corridor.
At the far end stood Dr. Serao.
The doctor was holding a file against his chest.
Too tightly.
His face looked pale, his expression strained.
Then their eyes met.
Serao looked away first.
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
He walked toward him.
“Doctor Serao...”
The doctor looked up.
Ethan forced a faint smile.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Serao didn’t smile.
He only stared at him.
For a long moment.
Then, quietly:
“Ethan... sit down.”
The smile disappeared from Ethan’s face.
“Did something happen?”
Serao said nothing.
He pointed toward the chair beside him.
“Please.”
That single word did what the silence hadn’t.
It frightened him.
Ethan sat.
Serao remained standing.
He looked down at the file in his hands, as though the answer might somehow be written there in a way that would make saying it easier.
It wasn’t.
The clock on the wall ticked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Ethan could hear his own heartbeat between each one.
“Doctor...”
His voice came out quieter than he intended.
“You’re worrying me.”
Serao tightened his grip on the file.
His knuckles whitened.
He drew in a breath.
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
Ethan stared at him.
“For what?”
The doctor finally raised his eyes.
He couldn’t hold Ethan’s gaze for more than a second.
“It’s about Ram.”
Everything inside Ethan seemed to stop.
“What about her?”
Serao opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He looked away.
Ethan leaned forward.
“What happened?”
The doctor swallowed.
“We tried...”
His voice broke.
He stopped.
Then forced himself to continue.
“...but we couldn’t save her.”
Ethan stared at him.
The words reached his ears.
They simply refused to become meaning.
“What do you mean?”
Serao lowered his head.
His voice was barely audible.
“Ram is dead.”
For a moment, Ethan didn’t move.
He looked at the doctor.
Waiting.
For the correction.
For the apology.
For the moment when Serao would finally admit that this had all been some terrible mistake.
Nothing came.
Ethan stood so quickly that the chair struck the floor behind him.
“No.”
Serao looked at him.
“No.”
This time the word was louder.
“Where is she?”
Serao’s expression tightened.
“She’s in the morgue.”
Ethan was already moving.
“Ethan—wait!”
He didn’t hear him.
Or perhaps he did.
It simply didn’t matter.
He ran.
“Ethan!”
Doctors turned as he tore through the corridor.
Nurses stepped aside.
A stack of papers scattered across the floor when Ethan slammed into an employee.
Someone shouted after him.
Someone else grabbed for his arm and missed.
He heard none of it.
The only thought left in his mind was Ram.
He took the stairs two at a time.
His foot slipped.
He caught himself against the railing.
Kept going.
Down.
And down.
Until he reached the lower floor.
The morgue.
Four police officers stood outside the door.
Ethan slowed only enough to speak.
“Move.”
No one moved.
His chest rose and fell violently.
“Please.”
Still nothing.
He stepped closer.
“Please... let me see her.”
One of the officers caught his arm.
Ethan ripped himself free and shoved him back.
The others reacted immediately.
Three pairs of hands seized him.
His arms.
His shoulders.
They drove him to the floor.
“Let me go!”
Ethan fought beneath them.
He struck the floor with his fist.
“Let me see her!”
The words tore out of him.
“Please!”
His voice broke.
“Please...”
He stopped fighting for half a second.
“...let me see her.”
Then the morgue door opened.
Everything went quiet.
Ethan froze.
Footsteps approached from inside.
Slow.
Measured.
One.
Then another.
The footsteps stopped in front of him.
Ethan slowly raised his head.
And forgot how to breathe.
James.
His childhood friend.
The man Ethan had once thought of as a brother.
James stood over him.
There was no grief on his face.
No anger.
No hesitation.
Nothing.
Just a coldness Ethan had never seen in him before.
James opened the file in his hand and removed an official document.
He looked at Ethan for several seconds.
“Ethan...”
He stopped.
For the first time, something flickered across his face.
Then it vanished.
“You’re under arrest.”
Ethan stared at him.
The words made no sense.
“Arrest?”
James didn’t answer.
Ethan looked into his eyes.
“James... what are you talking about?”
James stepped closer.
The metal cuff opened.
Ethan didn’t move.
He was still waiting for the explanation.
Still waiting for James to laugh.
To tell him this was a mistake.
To tell him anything.
The cuff closed around his wrist.
Click.
“For the murder of Ram.”
Ethan laughed.
Just once.
A short, broken sound.
He looked at James as though his friend had suddenly begun speaking a language he didn’t understand.
“James...”
Nothing.
James closed the second cuff.
The metal snapped shut around Ethan’s other wrist.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
It was louder than any scream.
Ethan didn’t remember the journey to the cell.
He remembered the handcuffs.
The sound they made.
Then nothing.
He sat in the corner of the cell with his back against the stone wall.
Cold seeped through his clothes.
Moisture clung to the air.
Above him, a weak ceiling light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness swallowed the cell.
A second later, the light returned.
Ethan stared at his hands.
Red marks circled both wrists where the cuffs had bitten into his skin.
He raised his right hand slowly.
Turned it over.
For a strange moment, it didn’t look like his.
He closed his fingers.
He didn’t cry.
He didn’t scream.
He didn’t even feel angry.
The shock had pushed everything else out.
There was only one question.
How?
How could Ram be dead?
And how could he be the one who killed her?
He closed his eyes.
Her face appeared immediately.
Her smile.
Her voice.
The red scarf around his neck.
The message.
Don’t be late tomorrow... I have a surprise for you.
His eyes opened.
He reached into his pocket for his phone.
His hand stopped.
Nothing.
He searched the other pocket.
Nothing.
His breathing tightened.
He leaned his head against the wall.
How long had he been here?
An hour?
Three?
A whole day?
He didn’t know.
Inside the cell, time had become meaningless.
The scrape of metal broke the silence.
Ethan lifted his head.
The guard opened the door.
“Ethan.”
He didn’t answer.
“Get up.”
Ethan pushed himself to his feet.
The guard closed the file in his hand.
“Your bail has been paid.”
Ethan stared at him.
The guard paused.
“You’re free...”
A beat.
“...for now.”
The moment Ethan stepped outside the police station, the cold struck him.
Hard.
The wind cut across his face.
For a second, he almost welcomed it.
At least the cold made sense.
It was still there.
Still behaving exactly as it always had.
He looked up.
Snow continued to fall.
Just as it had that morning.
The same streets.
The same winter.
The same white sky.
Only Ethan was different.
He started walking.
Then stopped.
Someone was watching him.
He turned.
James stood behind the glass doors of the station.
Watching.
Their eyes met.
Neither man spoke.
They didn’t need to.
Ethan saw it in James’s face.
James wasn’t uncertain.
He wasn’t waiting for evidence.
He believed Ethan had killed her.
Ethan looked away.
He turned toward the gate.
And stopped again.
Two figures stood beneath the snow.
Waiting for him.
Idric.
Arya.
Years had passed since the three of them had stood together.
Now they simply watched him approach.
Idric said nothing.
He removed the extra coat from his own shoulders and placed it around Ethan.
“The cold is brutal.”
He nodded toward the road.
“Come on.”
Ethan stared at them.
For the first time since morning, he saw something familiar.
Something that hadn’t changed.
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
“You...”
Arya smiled.
Only slightly.
Her eyes were full of grief.
“We paid your bail.”
Ethan looked at them.
He wanted to say something.
Thank you.
Anything.
But the words wouldn’t come.
So he said nothing.
For the first time since he had heard Ram’s name that morning, Ethan no longer felt completely alone.
Someone still believed him.
Someone still believed he hadn’t killed her.
And in that moment, with snow falling around him and the truth buried somewhere beneath it all, that was enough.
Enough to keep him standing.
Enough to make him decide that he would find out what really happened.
Enough to keep him from giving up.
