Noelle Frostine:
- Convicted for murder of her cousin when she was sixteen.
- Bloody rich social worker (500 million dollars?)
- Arch nemesis of the most powerful family of Cherry Hills—the Montcliffs.

Aiden Summers:
- Best Friend of Noelle Montcliff.
- Has tendré for the Montcliffs family.
- Is still desperately, hopelessly in love with Noelle.

Noelle, Come Back.

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    Dearest Noelle,

    Where are you, Noelle? I want to find you but you don't want to be found. Living in Cherry Hills has become a chore now, so has breathing. I daily go to all our hiding places to find if you're there. This is my only comfort, trying to find you somewhere, hoping that when someone tugs at me from behind, it is you.

    I miss the way you would jump on my back, little Noelle, for a hug. When did you become so close to my heart that nothing else would matter? And why did I have to lose you to only realize it was so? Sometimes, I wish you had stopped loving me or bothering me, stopped calling me "Aiden" in that beautiful voice of yours so that I would have realized it earlier. It's all your fault, you know. You spoiled me with your love and warmth, your mischief and smile. Am I searching for you too much? Is that why you don't want to be found?

    I walk on the streets to look for a familiar face, your face. It has been one year, nine months, seven weeks, three days now since I last saw you. I should've held your hand when you entangled yours with mine. Shouldn't have let go. I didn't know that it would have been the biggest mistake of my life.

    Please, please, please, come back, Noelle.

    Ever yours,
    Aiden

― Aiden Summers to Noelle Montcliff after three weeks of her disappearance.

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    Hamlet had said to Opehlia, "God has given you one face and you make yourselves another." There are always two sides to every person; one who we are and one who we pretend to be. Noelle had always felt the turmoil of the battle between her two identities. The little girl who always seeks approval from others, who lost everything including herself when tragedy struck. Noelle Montcliff died in the Claremont Juvenile Detention Center.

    Noelle was reborn now. Noelle Frostine.

    Noelle Frostine didn't smile, laugh, cry; she hid her emotions well. Noelle Montcliff may not be dead but she was so hidden inside that it didn't matter.

    Noelle never struggled between the good and bad, light and darkness, angels and demons. Ever since she was a child, she had always believed in archangel. Her dad, dead since seventeen long years―Gabriel Montcliff―was her archangel, her protector. She had always believed in good, even if no one believed in her innate goodness.

    It didn't matter, she thought to herself as she watched the city passing by, on her way to Cherry Hills. "It's different from what I remember," she whispered softly, staring through the window of her conveyance.

    "I think it's the snow, makes the whole place very charming." The driver smiled at her through the mirror. She hadn't realized she had thought out aloud.

    Noelle nodded at him silently. She had always loved the snow. She loved how it kissed the trees and fields and roofs, caressing them until the summer. The car came to a halt, and the driver sighed with relief. "Here we are, miss. Cherry Hills Cottage."

   "Thank you, Gerald. I know the climate wasn't suitable at all, so I'm glad you were so amenable and came along with me."

    "That's solely because of your stubborn streak, miss. You would have driven alone here in the snow, and I couldn't let that happen now, could I?"

    Noelle's face felt warm, and she nodded at his companion. He had been working for her since five years now, and he cared for her like an older brother she never had.

    "Chloe messaged me that she was inside. Why don't you come inside?"

    "No, miss. You go inside. I'll heat the engine in case you don't like the house."

    Noelle stared at the house―her safe haven. It hadn't changed at all. There were so many similarities between the house and herself; she remembered coming here when she felt lonely. A person trotting behind her whenever she did. Her carvings on the bench and the fence, the artist she was. Her declaration that she would buy this house whenever she could. She was nine then, too ambitious. Not that her inheritance wouldn't have allowed her to buy it, but she was too small to realize she was rich. At that tender age, all she ever wanted was to feel loved.

    "Aiden, this will my safe haven. Our safe haven?" the last bit of the statement was a question, as Noelle ran across the porch in circles.

    "Oh, Noelle, of course," Aiden smiled at his little Noelle, eyes glittering at the cherry hill trees surrounding the house. "Do not forget Juliet out of the bargain."

    She exhaled a breath she never realized that was lodged in her chest. Her heart ached too much, she was glad she was frigid now, so was her heart. She couldn't hurt now like she had been, when she was a naive fool. She had realized that she was never to be loved, and frankly, she didn't care.

    Traipsing outside her car, she walked across the blanket of snow which covered the lawn. A chilling wind blew, making the trees rustle―making them feel too alive, all too human. She trudged across the stony path towards the main entrance, found the footprints on the snow as she glanced over her shoulder. Her transient footprints. The red of the walls peeked out of the snow as she examined the place. It looked beautiful, and she found herself losing in the labyrinth of the little cherry hill trees surrounding the charming cottage.

    Well, at least she had taste in landscapes even at the age of nine.

    "Noelle! Here you are." Chloe Travis exclaimed with a smile as Noelle entered into the house. Noelle shuffled her gloved hands uncomfortably, seeing the vivaciousness of the woman in front of her.

    "Hello, Mrs. Travis." she greeted politely.

    Chloe gave her a beguiling smile, "Please call me Chloe. Do you like the view?"

    "It's wonderful." Noelle gave her a quick nod, and walked towards the porch again, and ran her hands across the carvings of the nine and twelve year olds. Chloe followed her and saw her tracing her wooden carvings on the bench.

    "Mrs. Aberanthy of course spent most of her time in Berkshire. This property was entailed in her will, and I don't find myself settling in Cherry Hills anyway." Noelle's eyes darted towards the huge manor in view from this house.

    "It's quite an inheritance, Chloe. And you've made a good decision. Do you plan to go back to England then?"

    "Of course. Mr. Turner, you see, proposed me last time I was in Windsor, and I have accepted."

    "Congratulations!" Noelle gazed at her, with all the warmth she could effuse from her heart. Chloe had suffered so much in life, she deserved every bit of happiness in life. "I think I will be buying the place at your asking price for the occasion. No attempts at bargain."

    "I have the deeds with me in your name. Actually, I have to cross New Jersey Trade Center soon. Could we quickly finish the formalities?"

    "Quite the confidence, Chloe." Noelle remarked, curling her lips into a quirk which disappeared as quickly. "I'll sign the bank draft immediately then."

    This was going to be her impenetrable ice castle. And Noelle, its ice queen. The battle was about to begin.

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    "Oh, did you see? Chestnut hair, pale skin." Mrs. Lucinda Montcliff's eldest daughter, Jane Ainsley, exclaimed, peeping through the window. "Our new neighbor seems pretty, mother."

    "Who seems pretty?" Aiden's voice boomed through the room, as he darted his gaze towards his wife's grandmother. They had always been so close.

    While Jane chattered about what she had heard from Chloe about the prospective buyer who was going to buy the charming cottage which was on the border of their estate, Aiden checked the health of his grandmother by marriage. He caught her hoarse voice, "Did you find anything about her?"

    "I tried a lot," Aiden winced, hating how helpless he was in the situation. It was as if she didn't want to be found at all. "It seems she has a lot of money, and she's hiding herself well."

    "I never thought that―that she would lock herself away this way, Aiden. It is my fault."

    "No," he shook his head, his eyes moist. "It is my fault, no matter what anyone of you say."

    Jane turned around, and hastily dragged her feet across the room. "Neither of you are at fault! It has always been her. The moment she did what she did―well, Gabriel must have turned in his grave seeing her daughter's actions. I still can't believe, both of you are making excuses for her crime!"

    "She was angry, but no, I still refuse to believe it was her."

    "Your love has clouded your judgement, Aiden. You talk like a fool!"

    "Jane Ainsley!" the old lady exclaimed in anger, but her voice still sounded weak. "She's my granddaughter, and we abandoned her. We are at fault."

    "Oh, please. The rest of the Montcliffs are never going to forgive her for her deed. It's not apprehensible how you still support that―that wild child, Aiden. She's the reason why―"

    "―no, don't say it. I am tired of hearing the same old things." Aiden turned towards his grandmother, as he spoke with his gentle eyes. "You know grandmother, the only reason why I came here is because of Noelle. She's the thread which binds us." He got up from the bedside, and feather-kissed Mrs. Montcliff's cheek. "I'll see you, grandmother. I'll take your leave."

   "Please keep visiting while you're here. I know how it's painful for you to come here." Lucinda smiled despite of herself. She loved how he called her grandmother, it always reminded her of Noelle. Lucinda sighed at the painful memories.

    Aiden brushed his hands across Lucinda's cheek affectionately, and stood up. "Grandmother. Mrs. Ainsley," he nodded at both the ladies before walking out of the room.

    One mistake. And eight painfully long years which seemed like an infinite now. Without any contact. Every day he imagined how his little Noelle was faring. He hated himself for not visiting her when he knew where she was. For shutting her out when he knew she needed him the most.

    At that time, he couldn't believe her stupidity and the extent of her anger. But now he realized that what hurt the most was not knowing at all. He could tolerate his guilt, her anger, but he couldn't bear not knowing how she was. Where she was.

    As he stepped outside the threshold of the Montcliff Manor, he felt a bone-chilling rustle of wind. The cold was coming, hard and fast. She loved the snow. He still remembered their snowball fights. She used to prepare a stack of snow pellets as her ammunition, to retaliate against the elder kids. Aiden sighed at the memory, not realising a smile played on his lips. When Noelle set her mind on a battle, there was no way to win against her. She was too stubborn.

    He hopped inside his car, and ignited the engine, hitting the road. It has been a week since he touched the town, and it already felt too frigid and distant. The person who carried the sun in her hands during the winter was gone. The town, he felt, was filled with walking skeletons now. He saw a man heating the engine of his car, outside the Cherry Hill Cottage. He remembered Mrs. Ainsley earlier mentioning about a girl buying the cottage.

    Aiden felt a small pulse of anger at the prospect of another person buying the cottage. He should have bought the place, shouldn't he? For Noelle? The only reason he hadn't bought was because as long as he didn't, there was a still a flicker of hope, that she might come back one day, and keep her promise. He sure has failed in every promise of his.

    He heard a woman exclaiming. "Here, we are, Gerald! Deed's in my name, finally." Some muffled voice. He poked his head out of the car to see her.

    "Miss, congratulations."

    Aiden's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe his eyes, it must be a cruel joke. It must be the winter playing an illusion with his eyes. He jumped outside the car.

    Trademark Montcliff eyes dancing as they read the deed. A blood angel in her red trench-coat, and black woollen slacks. "Noelle?" A whisper. A plea.

    Noelle heard the rustling noise, and snapped her head up. The eyes which danced with the stars in them felt cold, her wildflower blonde hair were now a darker shade of brown. It was almost as if he expected a kiss, and got a slap instead.

    A solemn face, with no recognition. A bone-cutting voice with no warmth. "Oh, hello, Mr. Summers. How do you do?"

    A silent battle cry filled the air.