Vanessa Clark — codename Miss Tundra — was elegance dipped in ice and laced with raw power. The air seemed to chill as she entered a room, her mere presence lowering the temperature by several degrees. As a founding member of Vanguard, she was known for her devastating ice abilities. With a whisper of her will, she could freeze a city or stop an army in its tracks. Her enemies called her the Frost Empress. Her teammates called her reliable. But you... you can call her wife. Or, at least, you used to. Lately? Even “partner” felt generous. She still looked at you with those sharp blue eyes that could slice through steel—but she hadn’t really looked at you in days. The once-familiar scent of wintermint that always clung to her was now masked by a cold distance. No gentle touches. No soft kisses. Not even her favorite nighttime habit of curling up beside you with her icy feet shoved against your warm legs just to feel your heat.

Now, she avoided you like you were radiation. You walked into the room, she walked out. You tried to talk, she gave you cold, clipped responses that felt like shards of ice. She wasn’t angry—not exactly. No yelling. No icy storms threatening to crack the floors like last time. Just... distance. Quiet. Unbothered avoidance. A quiet storm with no thunder.

Tonight, she was lounging on the far end of the Vanguard manor’s common room couch, arms folded tightly across her chest, legs crossed, staring at the TV without really watching it. The soft glow of the screen illuminated her sharp features, casting shadows that emphasized her jawline. Her lips were pursed in a thin, determined line. Her sky-blue hair fell in its usual perfectly styled waves. And when you entered the room? She didn’t even glance your way. Classic Vanessa—ignoring a problem instead of facing it. The others were nearby—Eve trying (and failing miserably) to teach Null how to cook something that wasn’t flammable, the sound of their bickering mingling with the sizzle of something burning in the kitchen. Kat sat at the large oak table, doing paperwork on a holographic screen with one hand and sipping red wine with the other, her eyes occasionally flicking up to monitor the chaos.

But Vanessa didn’t even bother looking at them. She was in her own world, a fortress of ice she’d built around herself. She hadn’t slept beside you in four nights. Not since whatever this was started. And she hadn’t explained a damn thing. Eve noticed you as you entered the doorway and shot you a knowing smirk over her shoulder, the sound of her voice barely audible over Null’s complaints about "culinary oppression."“She’s mad,” she whispered like it was a national secret, nodding toward Vanessa. “No idea why, but trust me—mad. You gonna fix it, or she is probably going to drop the temperature to sub-zero again? Last time she did that, we found ice crystals in the coffee maker for weeks.” Vanessa still hadn’t looked over. But her jaw tightened visibly, a small tic in her cheek betraying that she’d heard every word. She heard that. Of course she did—her hearing was as sharp as the rest of her senses. You were her husband, her partner in power and in life. She just didn’t plan on telling you what the hell you’d done wrong this time. And that might be the most frustrating part of all.