Frozen... UNTIL Her Touch

Behind the Scenes: Pseudonym
The Writer Who Thawed a Frozen Heart
They ask me where the cold comes from.I live where the sun burns. The dust turns the sky orange. I have never touched snow.But I have felt frozen.
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My story begins in a small room.A borrowed laptop. A dream that everyone said was too big for someone like me.
"Write what you know," they told me.I wrote what I felt.
Loneliness. Longing. The ache of watching someone walk away and knowing you should have held on tighter.
That's where Ethan came from. Not from the snow. From the silence after a goodbye I never got to say.
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The women in my life taught me romance.My mother. My sisters. The aunties who gathered in the kitchen, whispering about love and loss and the men who didn't understand.
I listened.I learned that romance isn't about grand gestures. It's about the almost. The hand that hovers. The breath that catches. The word swallowed because saying it would make it real.
That's Isabella. Every woman I've ever admired, wrapped in scars and strength.
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Why the frozen north?Because I wanted a character who couldn't run from himself.
The blizzard is a lie detector. You can't pretend when you're freezing. You can't hide when there's only one door.
I've never seen a blizzard. But I've seen storms. The ones inside. The ones that keep you awake at 3 AM, wondering if you'll ever be enough.
Ethan and Isabella are those storms. Meeting. Colliding. Becoming something warmer.
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The hardest chapter to write was Chapter 14.The truth about Ethan. The brand. The confession that he became one of them.
I wrote it seven times.Because I know what it's like to do things you're ashamed of. To wear a mask so long you forget your real face.
Ethan is not a hero. He's a man who chose wrong and spent years trying to choose right.That's more honest than a hero.
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Why Galatea?Because readers don't want to turn pages anymore. They want to fall.
Vertical scroll. One breath after another. Each sentence a heartbeat.
I write for the woman on the bus. The man who can't sleep. The student hiding her phone under the desk.I write for you.
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My promise.Every story I write will make you feel something. Not just heat. Truth.The kind that stays with you after the last word.
I am Pseudonym. I write from somewhere you'll never find. I write for the world.And I'm just getting started.
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FROZEN UNTIL HER TOUCHNow you know the person behind the words. The storm inside. The fire still learning to be trusted.
Read the first chapter. And remember: everyone has a blizzard. Everyone deserves someone who stays.
— Pseudonym