#Christmas miracle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yumiyue07 · 2 months ago

Text

Bumping into Christmas Magic ✨

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Ship: Chris x fem!reader Genre: Romance, festive fluff, Christmas miracles Warnings: Brief moments of self-doubt, overwhelming Christmas cheer, and an unforgettable...discover it yourself ;) Word Count: 9.9k

This story is written for the Stayblr Writing Challenge, and finally I'm able to share it...just in time for the deadline! 😅

The original version was 19k words, but I had to trim it down to meet the competition requirements. As a result, some parts may feel a bit 'bumpy,' so please bear with me .

Inspired by Stray Kids’ “Christmas Love,” this magical tale is about fate, festive surprises, and the kind of love that feels like a Christmas miracle. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

@stayblrofficial Update: Since the contest is over, I'm going to post the original story. ｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ��★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Somehow, you'd lost track of the others. One moment, they were beside you; the next, they'd disappeared into the bustling crowd. You couldn't really blame them—you'd been completely captivated by a stall filled with hand-painted Christmas baubles.

The display was enchanting, with delicate ornaments in every color, their intricate patterns catching the glow of nearby fairy lights. Some were painted with snow-covered cottages, others with prancing reindeer or frosty pine trees. The artist, a kind-faced woman with paint-stained fingers, gave you a warm smile before turning her attention to another customer carefully selecting a set.

A soft pang of indecision tugged at you. There was a particular bauble with a swirling galaxy of blues and silvers that had caught your eye, but you decided you'd come back for it after exploring more of the market.

As you walked away, the festive chatter of the crowd faded slightly while you rummaged through your handbag.

You'd meant to check your phone—maybe send a quick text to find your colleagues—but in your search, you paid no attention to where you were going.

Suddenly, you collided with something solid. The impact jarred you, and you stumbled back a step as the sound of rustling bags and clattering objects broke through the market's cheerful hum.

A young man stood in front of you, blinking in mild surprise as he stared at the scattered shopping bags at his feet.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention," you said sheepishly, stepping forward to help.

The young man looked up, his expression shifting from surprise to amusement as if he hadn't even noticed you standing there at first. He was strikingly handsome, his soft eyes catching yours with a mix of warmth and curiosity. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and a thick scarf was snugly wrapped around his neck—a clear defense against the biting cold.

"Don't worry," he said with a small laugh, brushing off the incident. "I was distracted, too."

You bent down to help him gather his bags, brushing the snow off one of them before handing it back to him.

"Quite a lot of bags you're carrying around," you said with a playful smile.

"Yeah, I've been on the hunt for gifts," he admitted with an embarrassed chuckle. "And I think I might've gotten a bit... overambitious. I'm new in town, so navigating all this is a little overwhelming."

"Ah, I see," you replied, eyeing the assortment of bags. "Well, if you're looking for something specific, I could help you. Consider it my way of making up for crashing into you. Or," you added with a grin, "I could just help you carry all of this. You're practically a walking Christmas tree at this point."

He laughed then—a bright, infectious laugh that made your chest feel unexpectedly warm. "If you really don't mind, I'd appreciate the help. At this rate, I'll be wandering around until midnight. And honestly, having a hand free wouldn't be the worst thing." He shifted the bags and held out his now-empty hand. "By the way, I'm Chris."

"Nice to meet you, Chris," you said, taking his hand for a brief shake. "I'm Y/N. And yes, I'd be happy to help."

He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like it could melt through the snow. "Nice to meet you too, Y/N. Are you here alone?"

"Well, not exactly," you said, taking a few of the bags from him to lighten his load. "I came here with my colleagues, but I got a little distracted at one of the stalls. By the time I looked up, they were gone. I was just about to check my phone when—"

"When you ran into me," he finished, grinning.

"Exactly." You couldn't help but smile back.

You walked side by side, heading in the opposite direction from where you'd come. The faint crunch of snow underfoot blended with the festive buzz of the Christmas market around you.

"Are you sure you don't want to rejoin your colleagues?" he asked, glancing at you. "You really don't have to wander around here with me."

"Oh, don't worry about it. They'll be fine without me," you said with a wave of your hand. "They were heading home soon anyway. Christmas markets aren't really their thing." You paused, your face lighting up as you added, "I, on the other hand, absolutely love everything about Christmas."

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you. "I can tell. You're practically glowing. It suits you."

A faint warmth rose in your cheeks—not just from the cold—and you smiled. "There's just something magical about this season, isn't there?"

"Definitely," he said, his voice soft. He quickly looked away, his ears tinged with a hint of pink. You just looked so happy—it was impossible not to find it contagious.

"How long have you been in the city?" you asked after a moment.

"About two weeks now," he replied. "I moved here for work. My team arrived last week, too."

"Your team? Are you a sportsman? Or maybe a coach?" you guessed, glancing at his athletic build.

He laughed, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that. We're an IT team—we handle data and building security. Our new assignment brought us here."

"Aha," you said with interest. "That sounds exciting. Does that mean you're always on the move?"

"Pretty much," he admitted with a small shrug. "Depending on the job, we relocate to be closer to the client's office."

Something about that answer gave you pause. "By 'we,' you mean your team, right?" You hesitated, almost asking if he meant family, but stopped yourself.

"Yes, exactly," he said with a nod. "My team is like my family. We spend a lot of time together."

"Let me guess—the presents are for your team?" you teased lightly.

He laughed again, the sound bright and warm. "Exactly. Christmas is coming soon, and I wanted to be early with gifts this year. Usually, I'm the guy scrambling at the last minute."

"Oh, I know how that feels," you said, grinning. "How many presents are you still missing?"

"Just one more, actually," he said, his voice tinged with pride.

"Hey, that's great!" you said. "Do you already have an idea for it? If you do, we can head there now."

"I was thinking of getting a scarf," he explained. "One of my teammates is always losing his stuff. Having a backup scarf might actually save him this winter."

"That's so thoughtful of you," you said, genuinely impressed. "I saw a stall selling scarves back that way." You pointed toward a row of twinkling booths in the distance. "Let's check it out."

"Sure thing, Miss Tour Guide," he said, chuckling.

You couldn't help but laugh at the nickname. "Hmm, how about I give you a proper tour of the city sometime? You know, if you want—and if you have time."

"Sounds like a plan," he replied, his grin widening. "I've looked up a few sightseeing spots online, but I haven't gotten around to them yet. With you as my guide, though, I'd say my chances of enjoying it just got a whole lot better."

His mischievous smile made your heart skip a beat, and you found yourself grinning back.

His smile made your heart race, a steady rhythm suddenly thrown off course. What's wrong with me? you thought, trying to focus on something else. It had been a while since anyone had made you feel this way—this sudden, fluttering warmth that seemed to curl up and settle in your chest.

You stole a glance at him as you walked side by side. He was taller than you, with broad shoulders and a confident, easy stride. His long coat, scarf, and gloves gave him an effortlessly elegant look, every piece carefully coordinated. Maybe he'd come straight from work to the market. Whatever the case, the polished air about him only added to the growing sense of attraction you felt.

"Here we are," you said, gesturing to the stall. "Take your time to look through the selection."

The two of you began browsing, the display lit softly by strings of twinkling lights. You spotted a pair of dark red gloves with small bows at the openings and couldn't resist buying them. They were too cute to leave behind. Meanwhile, Chris inspected the scarves with a focused look, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.

"Did you find something interesting?" he asked, glancing your way.

"Look at this scarf," you said, holding up one with a playful Christmas motif. "Isn't it adorable? It's perfect for the season!"

He chuckled, the sound light and warm. "It really is."

"How about you? Did you find something for your friend?" you asked, noticing the scarf in his hand.

"Yep," he said, holding it up for you to see. "This one's simple, nothing too fancy—he'll like it."

"That's great!" you said with a smile. "So, you've officially finished your gift shopping."

"I have," he said, his grin widening. "Let me pay for this quickly. Be right back."

You watched as he walked to the booth owner, chatting briefly as he handed over the scarf. A small pang settled in your chest. With his shopping done, this might be the moment you'd have to part ways. The thought felt strangely disappointing—is it weird that I don't want this to end yet?

He returned moments later, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Ah, what a relief," he said with a laugh. "Now all I have to do is wrap these up and find clever hiding spots for them."

"Good plan," you said, smiling despite the lingering thought of goodbye. "Maybe I should start my own shopping marathon soon, too."

"If you need a helper, I volunteer," he offered with a playful grin. Then, more seriously, he added, "Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it."

"Of course! It was no trouble at all," you replied, your voice softening. "I guess my mission's complete now, huh?"

"Yeah," he said, his tone dipping slightly. He hesitated before asking, "But... do you mind showing me around the market a bit more?"

Your heart lifted. "I'd love to! How about we grab something to eat first? It smells amazing here."

"Great idea. After all this shopping, I need to recharge. Hmm, it smells like chestnuts," he said, his nose lifting slightly toward the aroma wafting through the air.

"That's right. There's a booth over there selling them. Let's start with that," you suggested.

A few minutes later, you were both holding a small bag of warm chestnuts, the heat seeping into your hands through the paper. Sharing them as you walked, the conversation naturally turned to your jobs. You told him about your work as a journalist, covering everything from local stories to larger features.

"Maybe I could interview you and your team some time," you teased. "A story about the latest trends in IT security, perhaps?"

He chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. "Why not? It's a pretty important topic. Could even get us some new clients," he said, winking at you.

The truth was that Chris' team didn't need your help to attract attention. From what he'd told you, they were already renowned as one of the best security teams in the industry. Still, the idea made him smile—it was an excuse to talk to you again.

As the chestnuts dwindled, you decided on your next stop. "Hot chocolate?" you suggested, gesturing toward a nearby booth with a menu written in chalk and steam curling into the night air.

"Sounds perfect," he agreed.

The rich, warm drink was just what you needed to ward off the evening chill. Strolling through the bustling market with steaming cups in hand, the conversation between you flowed so effortlessly that it felt like second nature. You found yourselves wandering from one topic to the next, discovering little quirks about each other and laughing at shared jokes. It was as if you'd known each other for years rather than just a few hours.

Eventually, you circled back to the booth where you'd first collided. Your eyes lit up at the display of handmade ornaments and painted Christmas baubles, just as they had earlier.

"They're so beautiful," you murmured, leaning in to admire them. You reached for one, hesitating, then moved to another, clearly torn. "I don't know which one to choose. They're all so lovely!"

Chris watched you with a soft smile. The way your childlike joy illuminated your face, the way your eyes sparkled in the twinkling market lights—it left him captivated.

"They are beautiful," he said quietly, though his gaze never left you.

You turned to him, startled by the softness in his tone. His eyes met yours, warm and intent, and a blush crept up your cheeks. Feeling suddenly shy, you looked away, pretending to study the ornaments again.

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he shook his head. "You really do make this season feel magical, you know," he said, almost to himself.

Just as you were about to ask for Chris' opinion on the ornaments, you heard your name being called.

"Y/N, there you are!" one of your female colleagues exclaimed, hurrying toward you. "We lost you in the middle of everything, and you didn't respond to our messages or calls. We started to get worried!"

"Oh no, I'm so sorry," you said, flustered. "I got so caught up looking around the booths that I forgot to check my phone."

"That's so typical of you," she teased, shaking her head.

"Once you like something, you get totally lost in it."

Chris couldn't help but smile at this description, imagining youwandering through the market, mesmerized by its magic. It suited you perfectly.

"Y/N, are you coming with us now?" your colleague asked, glancing over her shoulder. "Our boss joined us all of a sudden."

"Oh!" you said, startled. "Uh, yeah, I'll be there in a second."

"Alright, but don't disappear on us again," she said with a grin. "We're at the booth selling sweets." With that, she turned and walked back toward the group.

You turned back to Chris, an apologetic expression on your face as you handed him the shopping bags you'd been carrying. "It seems like our tour ends here," you said regretfully. "I'm really sorry to leave so abruptly, but as you heard, my boss joined, and I can't exactly say no."

You didn't want to leave. Spending time with Chris had been more fun, more alive, than anything you'd done in ages. But you didn't have a choice.

"Don't worry about it," Chris said with an understanding smile. "I get it. Thank you for all your help. Have a nice evening ahead."

"It was a lot of fun," you said, your voice tinged with reluctance. "Have a nice evening, too. So... yeah."

"Thank you," he said, his gaze softening. "Maybe I'll see you again?"

"Yeah," you said shyly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe."

You waved at him and turned, hurrying to catch up with your colleague. Inside, your heart sank a little. "Why didn't I ask for his number?!" you scolded yourself. The chance of seeing him again in such a big city felt slim, but maybe... maybe he didn't want to see you again. He could have asked, too.

Behind you, Chris waved back, his hand lingering in the air even after you'd disappeared into the crowd. His eyes stayed on you, a wistful smile on his face. "She's so cute," he thought, the warmth of the evening still coursing through him. "Almost like a fairy."

As he turned back toward the ornament display, his gaze fell on one you had admired—a delicate bauble painted with a soft, shimmering winter scene. His smile widened.

The next day, back in your office, you were doing some research for your next article. While browsing the internet, your mind drifted off to Chris. It had been such a lovely evening with him. When you rejoined your colleagues and your boss, it had felt, well, different. You liked your team and boss, but sometimes it felt a little stiff. The warmth and ease you'd felt with Chris were hard to replicate. You ended the evening early and went home, yet that night, you couldn't fall asleep. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the market—and, of course, to him.

Now, staring at your screen, you realized you'd spent the last ten minutes daydreaming instead of working. With a sigh, you refocused on your task, though not for long. Curiosity gnawed at you until you gave in and started searching for the company Chris worked for.

It didn't take long to find him. But what you discovered left you stunned. He didn't just work for the company—he owned it.

Vanguard Solutions, the name read, followed by their tagline: "Securing your tomorrow, today." The firm was small, with only around 30 employees, but its reputation was world-class. They specialized in cutting-edge IT and cybersecurity services, providing everything from state-of-the-art data protection to designing secure digital infrastructures for smart buildings. Their client list included governments, Fortune 500 companies, and international organizations. Vanguard was the kind of company you'd hear about in success stories or think pieces on innovation.

Scrolling further, you found a professional photo of Chris, looking sharp in a tailored suit. It was such a stark contrast to the relaxed, bubbly person you'd met at the market. In the photo, his expression was serious, but his eyes held the same warmth that had captivated you.

Beneath his photo was one of his core team, his "family," as he'd called them. Each member had an important role, from cybersecurity architects to technical directors. They looked more like a boy band than an IT team with their stylish appearances. You chuckled at the thought and imagined asking him if they could moonlight as performers.

But then, your thoughts darkened. Why hadn't you just asked for his number? It would have been so easy. Now, you were stuck wondering, "What if." Would you even see him again? The possibility seemed as distant as ever, but a small part of you clung to hope.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your colleague and friend, Mariko, called your name.

"Hey, Y/N, how's your research going? Found anything interesting?" she asked her tone light but her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity.

Mariko had a knack for reading you like a book, which made it both comforting and slightly terrifying to work alongside her. The two of you had joined the journal at the same time, and your shared interests had made you fast friends. She was the kind of person you could laugh with over coffee one minute and then marvel at as she meticulously dissected a story's tiniest details the next. She had a gentle, easygoing vibe—until work demanded her to become a relentless investigative beast.

"Hi, Mariko," you said, trying to sound casual. "Yeah, it's going well—a lot of stuff to read through, you know."

Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, a sign she wasn't buying it. In one swift motion, she leaned over your desk and glanced at your screen.

"Aha! So that's the 'research' you're doing. Looking up boy groups? What's next, fangirling over autographs?" she teased with a wicked grin.

You let out a surprised laugh, though part of you was mortified. It wasn't just you, then—Chris and his team did have the boy band aura.

"Oh, uh, they're not a boy group," you stammered, cheeks warming. "This is an IT security company."

Mariko leaned back, her grin widening. "Since when have you been interested in IT security? Or is it because of these handsome men?" She wiggled her eyebrows, delighting in your discomfort.

You hesitated, looking back at the screen as a shy smile crept onto your face. Should you tell her?

"Don't tell me..." Mariko's eyes widened, and she practically bounced in her seat. "You've met one of them here? Who is it? Spill the tea!" she demanded, sliding into the chair across from you.

Her sudden intensity caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but laugh at her excitement.

Your office space, which you both had decorated to feel like a second home, suddenly felt a little too cozy for keeping secrets. The walls were a collage of memories: postcards from cities you'd visited, photos of you two and the rest of the team at various events, and articles you'd proudly clipped and framed. For Christmas, you had gone all out, as usual—fairy lights glowed softly around the room, a small Christmas tree sat in the corner adorned with delicate ornaments, and a snow globe sparkled on your desk.

Mariko wasn't as head-over-heels for Christmas as you were, but she humored you. She even helped hang the fairy lights, grumbling about tangled wires the whole time.

"Well?" she pressed, breaking your momentary daze. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?"

You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. "Fine, I'll tell you," you relented.

Mariko's face lit up like your fairy lights, and she leaned forward eagerly. "Oh, this is going to be good. Start from the beginning!"

"Well," you began, shifting in your seat, "yesterday, at the Christmas market—where you left me alone, by the way, because you had something better to do—I literally bumped into the CEO of this company." You gestured at your screen. "His name is Chris."

Mariko's eyes widened with glee. "Ohoho, now that's a coincidence. Of all people, you bump into him. What a perfect little meet-cute for a love story."

You rolled your eyes in mock annoyance. "Oh, please."

"And for the record," Mariko added with a cheeky grin, "my boyfriend invited me to dinner. How could I say no to a cozy evening with him compared to freezing my butt off with the rest of you?"

"Lucky you," you shot back, feigning irritation.

Mariko leaned forward, her grin growing. "Soooo, did you talk to him? Or did you just knock him out cold with your thick skull?"

The two of you burst into laughter.

"Hey!" you protested, trying to sound offended. "Don't be so mean! This beautiful head of mine carries a lot of knowledge, you know."

Mariko raised a skeptical eyebrow, still smirking. "Okay, fine. So, did you talk to him?"

"Yes, we talked," you admitted, folding your arms. "And spent some time together at the market. I even helped him with his Christmas shopping."

Mariko's teasing expression turned sly. "Helped him shop, huh? Or should I say, you found an excuse to hang out with him longer?"

Your cheeks warmed, and you couldn't stop the small smile tugging at your lips. The truth was, part of you had wanted to spend more time with him. There was an undeniable pull, an attraction you hadn't felt in ages.

"Anyway," you said, trying to brush it off, "I helped him carry his bags as an apology for bumping into him."

Mariko wasn't letting you off the hook so easily. "Uh huh. Sure. Let's call it that," she teased, resting her chin in her hands. "So, what's he like? Are you going to see him again?"

Chris image popped into your mind. His warm smile, the way he carried himself with confidence but wasn't arrogant, how easy he was to talk to. You found yourself smiling without even realizing it. "He's really nice," you said softly. "A great conversation partner. He knows so much about everything. We just... clicked, you know? It felt like talking to an old friend—like we were catching up after years apart. And, well," you hesitated, feeling heat rush to your face, "he's tall, handsome, and really charming."

Mariko started giggling, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Does someone have a crush on a certain CEO?"

"What? No!" you exclaimed, your voice a little too high-pitched. "I don't have a crush on anybody! I'm just saying he's nice and easy to talk to, that's all." You stared intently at your screen, pretending to be deeply engrossed in your "research."

Mariko wasn't fooled for a second. "Uh huh, just a good conversation partner, huh? Sure, Y/N. Tell me when you're ready to stop being in denial, okay?"

You groaned, knowing she wasn't going to drop it.

"And," she added, leaning back with a knowing smirk, "let me guess—you didn't make any plans to meet him again, did you?"

You bit your lip, unwilling to admit the truth.

"That's what I thought." Mariko mimicked air quotes as she said, "'No plans for another meeting.' Don't worry, though. When you finally admit that you like this guy, I'll help you figure out how to see him again."

"Mariko!" you whined, burying your face in your hands.

She just laughed, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You gave up and laid your head on your arms on the table, whining. "No, I'm so stupid. I didn't dare. Our parting was too quick. Madeleine called me and interrupted us. I think she didn't even realize I was there with Chris, which is better like that, or she would have made a fuss out of it in front of our boss."

Speaking of which, Jeff entered your office. You instantly sat up straight at the sound of his voice and looked at him.

"Good morning, ladies," Jeff said, surveying the two of you. "How's everything going? I need one of you to cover the story about data brokers as soon as possible. It's going to be a centerpiece article, so I want deep reporting. Who's going to work on it?" He looked between the two of you, ignoring your previous act.

Mariko, ever the diligent reporter, raised her hand. "Morning, Jeff. I'll take it." You didn't mind since you were working on another story.

"Good, thanks. We should have a rough story outline by Monday. Can you manage that?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Mariko answered in military salute style, which made you smile. Even Jeff couldn't keep a straight face. He smiled and said, "You two are going to drive me crazy one day." He gave a half-exasperated, half-amused shake of his head. "Anyway, carry on with your... work—or whatever you were doing," he added, gesturing vaguely in your direction as he tried to figure out what exactly you'd been up to.

You fought the urge to laugh and nodded solemnly. Mariko simply grinned as Jeff left the room, closing the door behind him.

Once Jeff was out of earshot, she leaned back and said, "Data brokers, huh? That's a hot topic. Looks like I'll be diving into the shady underworld of personal data for the next few days."

You raised an eyebrow. "What's your angle going to be?"

Mariko thought for a moment, tapping her pen against the table. "Probably the hidden world of these companies—how they collect, sell, and package our data like it's some kind of commodity. You know, explore the lack of regulation and the potential dangers to privacy and security. I might need to dig into some case studies and track down experts for interviews."

An idea sparked in your mind. You glanced at your screen, where Chris' professional photo still lingered.

"What if I interviewed Chris or his team? His company specializes in cybersecurity, and they probably know all about the consequences of data breaches or unethical data use."

Mariko smirked knowingly. "Oh, now that is a brilliant idea. And not at all an excuse to see Mr. Tall and Handsome again, right?"

You blushed, avoiding her gaze. "I'm serious, Mariko. This could add real depth to the article."

"Of course, of course," she teased. "I mean, why waste a perfectly good journalistic opportunity? Go for it, Y/N. You're technically helping me with this story, so Jeff might even approve. And hey, if it happens to give you a chance to 'bump into' him again, who am I to judge?"

You couldn't help but smile. "We'll see," you said, trying to sound casual but already imagining how the conversation might go.

On Saturday, you had planned to go to the open-air skating rink set up in the city's main square with Mariko. But at the last minute, she canceled due to an unexpected visit from her aunt. You were a bit disappointed but determined not to let it ruin your weekend vibe. You decided to go anyway, eager to enjoy the lively atmosphere. Not that you were a figure-skating prodigy, but gliding (or stumbling) around on the ice sounded like a good time.

When you arrived, the rink was buzzing with activity. Fairy lights were strung up all around, casting a warm glow on the sparkling ice. A mix of laughter, cheerful chatter, and festive music filled the air. Families, couples, and groups of friends were already out on the ice, some gracefully twirling while others wobbled and clutched the rink's sturdy barrier for support. There was even a small stand nearby selling hot chocolate, mulled wine, and other seasonal treats for the spectators.

You made your way to the skate rental kiosk, where a cheerful attendant handed you a pair of skates after you

gave your shoe size. With skates in hand, you headed to a nearby bench to lace them up. You carefully slipped on the first skate and began lacing the second when a familiar voice interrupted your focus.

"Are you following me?"

You looked up, startled, and saw Chris standing in front of you with a playful grin. He was dressed casually in a warm coat and scarf, with skates slung over one shoulder. For a moment, you were so surprised you couldn't find the words to respond. After all the second-guessing about whether to reach out to him since your encounter at the Christmas market, here he was, right in front of you.

"Who's following who?" you finally managed to say, your voice teasing.

Chris chuckled as he sat down on the bench beside you, placing his skates on the ground. "I have to say, I'm happy to see you so soon again," he said warmly.

You felt your heart skip a beat at how he smiled at you. His presence had an uncanny ability to melt through your usual composure.

"Same here," you replied a little sheepishly. You glanced around nervously before asking, "Are you here alone?" Part of you almost braced for the possibility of his girlfriend suddenly appearing by his side.

"Yes, I'm here alone," he said, his tone a bit shy as he rubbed the back of his neck. Then, his face lit up with a smile. "Well, I was here alone," he added, looking directly at you. "Unless you've got something against some company—or you're here with someone?" His gaze softened, curious yet hopeful.

"Oh! No!" you blurted out a little too eagerly, the words tumbling out before you could filter them. Chris' grin widened, and you quickly corrected yourself. "I mean, no, I got stood up, unfortunately. My friend Mariko canceled at the last minute. Something came up for her, and I figured I'd still come anyway. Looks like it was a good idea after all." You chanced a glance at him before looking away, your nerves threatening to overwhelm you.

"Yes, it was," he replied, his smile growing warmer. "Actually, I was supposed to have a client show me around, but they canceled at the last minute, too. So, I decided to go exploring on my own and somehow ended up here."

"If you say 'ended up here,' does that mean you actually got lost?" you teased, your confidence returning ever so slightly.

"Maybe..." he admitted with a grin. "I see you're all ready to go. Let me just get these skates on, and we can hit the ice together."

"Yes, I'd love to," you said, though inside, your nerves began to churn. Ice skating with Mariko would have been one thing—stumbling and laughing at your mutual clumsiness—but this was different. What if Chris turned out to be a fantastic skater? What if you embarrassed yourself in front of him? You debated whether to ask about his skill level but decided against it.

"I'm ready. Let's go," he said after lacing up his skates with practiced ease. He stood up with an effortless grace that left you momentarily breathless.

He marched confidently toward the rink entrance, his posture relaxed yet strikingly poised. You, on the other hand, wobbled a little on the thick mats as you followed behind him. Chris moved like a model gliding down a runway, and for a fleeting moment, your thoughts betrayed you. He doesn't look like a businessman right now. He looks more like... boyfriend material. You immediately shook your head, flustered by the direction of your thoughts.

Chris stepped onto the ice with casual elegance, his movements as smooth as if he belonged there. He made a quick lap around the rink as if testing the ice, then skated back to where you stood at the edge, gripping the railing for dear life.

"Everything all right?" he asked, his voice warm with amusement.

"Well, I, uh... how can I put this..." you stammered, trying to find the right words.

"Don't tell me you can't skate," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

You swallowed hard and admitted, "Ehm, no. I'm... at the beginner stage."

Chris laughed—a rich, beautiful laugh that sent your heart soaring and your confidence tumbling.

"Come on, let me help you," he said, extending his hand toward you. His outstretched hand was steady and inviting, his smile reassuring.

Your heart began pounding as you hesitated. His hand... he's offering me his hand. You could barely process it. This was Chris—successful CEO, accomplished, charismatic. Surely, he was used to women who were polished, poised, and far more graceful than you. Your cheeks flushed crimson at the thought.

Still, you couldn't let this opportunity slip away. With a deep breath, you reached out and placed your hand in his. His grip was warm and firm, and the way he looked at you instantly eased some of your nerves. The moment he held on to you, a strange yet comforting sense of security washed over you. It was odd—how could someone you barely knew make you feel so safe?

"Don't worry," he said softly, his smile never wavering. "We'll go slow. I've got you. There you go."

"Yes, because you're holding me," you replied with a nervous chuckle.

He grinned mischievously. "Should I let go?"

"Oh, please don't! At least not in the middle of the rink," you said, your voice a mix of panic and playfulness.

"Don't worry," he said with a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. "I won't let go of you."

His words were so earnest, and the way he looked at you so intensely, that your cheeks warmed as your pulse raced.

Suddenly, a group of kids zipped past, their laughter echoing as they skated dangerously close. Startled, you lost your balance for a moment. But before you could even process it, Chris' hand shot out to steady you, his other hand resting lightly against your back. A warm feeling spread through you.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.

You nodded, feeling sheepish. "Yes, thank you. I just... wasn't expecting them."

He chuckled softly. "It's okay. They're like that—unpredictable. I've got you."

But guilt began to creep in. He hadn't come here to babysit you, and you didn't want to hold him back.

"You know what," you said hesitantly, "maybe it's safer if I stick to the sidelines. That way, you can skate freely without worrying about me."

He tilted his head, considering your suggestion. "I don't mind skating with you," he said earnestly. "But if you feel safer there, then I'll take you."

Grateful for his understanding, you both made your way slowly to the edge of the rink. "Better?" he asked as you grabbed onto the rail.

"Yep, much better," you replied with a small smile. "At least here, I won't disturb the good skaters. How about this: you show me how it's done properly?"

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "You want a demonstration? Your wish is my command."

And with that, he pushed off, gliding effortlessly onto the ice.

Your heart raced as you watched him skate. He moved with such elegance, weaving through the crowd like he owned the rink. He wasn't just skating; he was commanding attention, and people couldn't help but notice.

You certainly weren't the only one mesmerized. A few girls, who were clearly much better skaters than you, began to take notice, too, their eyes lingering on him as he passed. They giggled and whispered to one another, and a pang of jealousy shot through you. Maybe he'd be better off skating with one of them—someone who wouldn't stumble or cling to the sidelines.

The thought left you feeling self-conscious, and for a moment, you considered leaving. But just then, Chris returned, skating directly toward you with a smooth, controlled stride. Before stopping, he did a playful little twist, pivoting on the ice with effortless grace.

You stared at him in awe. "Woah, you can do twists? Who am I even skating with? Are you secretly a professional skater or something?"

He laughed, his whole face lighting up. "No, I swear I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "I just like trying out different sports, and skating happens to be something I'm surprisingly good at." He shrugged as if it were no big deal, though his grin betrayed a hint of pride.

"Still, that was impressive," you said, your earlier insecurities melting away under his warm smile.

"Well, thank you," he replied with a little bow. Then, he straightened up and said, "How about I teach you?"

You glanced at him, but your gaze wandered to a group of girls near the center of the rink. They were looking in your direction, giggling and nudging each other. One of them took a step forward, clearly mustering the courage to approach.

Your chest tightened. A rush of insecurity swept over you. "Ah, thank you," you said, trying to muster a polite smile. "But maybe it's better if I leave. I think I'm a little too cold." You swallowed hard and gestured toward the exit.

"Please, stay and enjoy your time here. See you around."

Without giving him time to protest, you began wobbling toward the edge of the rink, determined to make a dignified exit despite the unsteady skates. Behind you, Chris stood frozen, confusion etched across his face. He had no idea what had gone wrong or whether he should follow you. Did you still want him by your side?

But before you could make it far, you heard his voice behind you, firm and unmistakable. "Y/N, wait!"

You hesitated for a split second, but his footsteps didn't follow. It stung, just a little. You took another shaky step forward, glancing back briefly—and that's when it happened.

Your skate caught an uneven patch of ice, and your foot slipped out from under you. Gravity took hold, and you braced for the inevitable, humiliating crash. Arms flailed, and your breath hitched as you felt the cold air rushing toward your face.

Except... the ice never came.

Instead, you found yourself enveloped in warmth. Strong arms wrapped around you, steadying you and pulling you close to his chest. Time seemed to stand still as your startled gaze met his. His face was mere inches from yours, his breath brushing softly against your cheeks. His eyes—those deep, mesmerizing eyes—held yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and soft. "Careful. You almost hit your head."

Your breath caught in your throat. The concern in his tone, the way he held you so protectively—it made the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you.

He helped you back to your feet with effortless grace, but his hands lingered, steadying you until he was sure you were secure.

"I can't let you leave like this," he said, his voice tinged with something more than concern. "Let me accompany you. I don't want you to get hurt."

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as his words settled over you. There was no teasing in his tone, no trace of humor—just genuine care. You could only nod, too overwhelmed to say anything coherent.

As he led you slowly off the ice, his hand rested lightly against the small of your back, a reassuring presence that made your heart race. You stole a glance at him, and for a moment, you thought you caught a hint of a smile—soft, tender, and meant only for you.

He accompanied you to the bench where you'd put on your skates earlier, the silence between you filled with a comforting presence rather than awkwardness. As you reached the bench, Chris turned to you, concern still evident in his gaze.

"Are you absolutely sure you're not hurt?" he asked softly, crouching slightly as if to check your balance.

You nodded quickly, still looking down at your feet. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for catching me before I could make a complete fool of myself on the ice," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris leaned closer, his grin teasing yet gentle. "No need to thank me for that. How could I let you take a tumble with me right there? My super skating skills finally came in handy," he said, his tone light as he puffed up his chest dramatically, trying to lift your spirits.

You couldn't help it—you laughed. It was impossible not to. The sound seemed to bring a glow to Chris' face, and he joined in with a chuckle, his laugh as warm and inviting as ever.

"It was still so embarrassing," you admitted, shaking your head, though the laughter had eased some of your discomfort. "In front of all those people..."

Chris shrugged casually, his eyes twinkling. "Ah, don't worry about them. You don't know them, and they don't know you. By the time they get off the ice, they'll be too busy with their own lives to remember. More importantly..."

His voice softened, and he turned to look at you more directly. "Why did you leave so suddenly?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, the vulnerability in his tone making your heart clench. "Did I... did I upset you in some way?" he asked, his words tinged with hesitation.

Your head snapped up, meeting his worried gaze. "No! No, of course not. You didn't do anything to upset me," you said quickly, your hands fluttering as you tried to explain. "I... I just..."

You paused, unsure how much to reveal. But something about his sincerity, the way he sat patiently waiting for you to find the words, made you feel safe. You took a deep breath.

"I just felt a little out of place," you confessed, your voice quiet. "You were skating so beautifully, catching everyone's attention. And then there was me... wobbling around like a baby deer."

You chuckled nervously, trying to make light of it, but Chris didn't smile. His expression only softened further, a mix of understanding and something deeper.

"I didn't want to hold you back or be a nuisance. And honestly, I felt like... like maybe you'd rather spend time with someone more on your level. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble." You looked down again, not wanting to see his reaction, but his voice drew you back.

"Oh, Y/N," he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "You're not holding me back. And you're definitely not a nuisance. You're..." He paused, his words lingering as if choosing them carefully. "You're wonderful company. Being here with you tonight has been the most fun I've had in weeks."

You blinked, startled by his earnestness, and when you looked up, the sincerity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. "Really?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, that heart-stopping, genuine smile of his, and nodded. "Really."

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, and you looked away, suddenly shy. "I... I'm happy to hear that," you said, your voice faltering as you tried to keep your composure.

Chris leaned back slightly, his grin playful again, lightening the mood. "How about we get a warm beverage?" he suggested. "I think we've earned it after all this skating—or in your case, graceful gliding," he teased, his tone filled with good-natured humor.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "You don't want to skate anymore?" you asked, already eyeing the inviting glow of the nearby stalls. "Because I'd love to have a nice warm tea now."

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "Skating is great, but right now, a warm beverage sounds even better. Let's return these skates and find that stall over there," he said, pointing toward a cozy stand with twinkling lights and the faint aroma of spices wafting through the air.

"Deal," you said, standing up—this time with much more care. He stood, too, offering his arm like a true gentleman. "Shall we?"

Your laughter mingled with his as you headed toward the rental stand, the cold air forgotten in the warmth of the moment. It wasn't just the tea you were looking forward to anymore—it was the promise of more time with him.

Once you'd both returned your skates, you wandered over to a stall glowing warmly with festive lights. The aroma of cinnamon, oranges, and mulled spices wafted through the crisp evening air, and you couldn't help but smile. "This is one of my favorite scents in winter," you said softly, inhaling deeply as you held your steaming cup of tea.

Chris smiled his own cup of hot chocolate in hand. "Mine too. It's like the smell of Christmas itself, isn't it?"

You nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! Cinnamon, oranges, gingerbread—it brings back so many memories. Every year, my parents used to bake cookies, and the house smelled amazing. My sister and I would sneak into the kitchen to 'taste-test' the dough, even though we weren't supposed to."

He chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to melt the winter chill. "That sounds familiar. My siblings and I used to have a similar tradition. Except we'd swipe the cookies once they were baked and try to rearrange the plate so no one would notice. My mom always did, though."

You both laughed, sipping your drinks as the world around you seemed to fade into the cozy glow of the moment. The fairy lights strung in the tree above sparkled, and the light snow dusting its branches gave the evening an almost magical quality.

"What about Santa? Did you leave out cookies and milk for him?" Chris asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Oh, absolutely," you said with a grin. "My parents made a whole ritual of it. We'd write him a note and leave out cookies and milk by the fireplace. The next morning, they'd be gone, and we'd find a little thank-you note in return. At the time, I was so convinced it was from Santa."

"Same here," Chris said, shaking his head with a laugh. "Although, one year, I caught my dad finishing the milk and cookies, and I was crushed. He tried to convince me that Santa was just 'too busy' that year and had asked him to help out."

You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your tea. "That's hilarious! Parents are so creative when it comes to keeping the magic alive."

"They really are," he agreed, his expression softening. "Even now, I try to hold on to that magic. It's part of what makes this time of year so special. Like decorating the tree. It's one of my favorite traditions."

"Mine too," you said, your face lighting up. "I love unwrapping all the ornaments we've collected over the years. Each one has a story, you know? And putting the star on top—oh, that's always the big finale."

Chris' smile deepened. "We had the same tradition. Although, in our house, it was always a debate over whether to use a star or an angel. My mom loved the angel, but my dad insisted on the star. It became this annual tug-of-war."

"And who won?" you asked, laughing.

"It depended on who got to the top of the tree first," he said with a grin. "One year, my siblings and I decided to make our own 'compromise topper.' We glued a tiny angel holding a star and surprised them with it. They still use it to this day."

"That's adorable," you said, touched by the story. "It sounds like your family really made the holidays special."

"They did," he said, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. "And I think that's what makes this season so meaningful—creating those memories, big or small. What about you? Any unique traditions in your family?"

You paused, smiling fondly. "Well, besides our obsession with cookies, we had this thing where we'd take a Christmas Eve walk. After dinner, we'd bundle up, go out into the snow, and look at all the neighborhood lights. It was our way of soaking in the holiday spirit. Then we'd come home, drink hot chocolate, and watch a nice movie together."

"That sounds perfect," he said, his gaze warm. "It's funny—when you think about it, it's never the expensive gifts or big gestures that stick with you. It's the little moments, the ones that make you feel... connected."

You nodded, his words resonating deeply. The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, each story bringing you closer, weaving a tapestry of shared memories and holiday magic. Sitting under the glowing fairy lights, the evening felt like something out of a storybook—simple, meaningful, and utterly unforgettable.

The warmth of the tea and your conversation wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. It was one of those rare moments where time seemed to stretch, letting you bask in the glow of connection. Chris leaned back slightly, looking as though he wanted to say something, but before he could, the sharp vibration of his phone interrupted the moment.

He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen, and sighed softly. "I'm so sorry. It's my office. I need to take this." His expression was apologetic, almost reluctant.

"Of course," you said quickly, trying not to let your disappointment show. "Go ahead."

He stepped away, pacing a little as he spoke. You couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself, even in the middle of a call, calm and composed. His deep voice was just low enough that you couldn't catch his words, but the way his brows furrowed told you it was something important.

A few minutes later, he returned, his expression regretful. "Y/N, I hate to cut this short, but something's come up, and I have to head out."

"That's okay," you said, forcing a bright smile despite the small pang in your chest. "I understand. Work calls."

"I've had such a great time tonight," he said earnestly, his gaze lingering on yours. "I wasn't expecting to, but you made my evening... memorable."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "Me too. It's been fun, even with my less-than-stellar skating skills."

He chuckled, his warm laughter making your heart flutter.

As if on cue, the rink's lights dimmed slightly, signaling that it was closing for the evening.

"Well," you said, standing and brushing the snow from your coat, "if I see you again tomorrow, then I'll start believing in Christmas miracles."

Chris' lips curved into a soft smile, the kind that reached his eyes and made them sparkle. "Christmas miracles, huh? I'll keep that in mind."

Neither of you made a move to exchange numbers. It wasn't that you didn't want to—your heart screamed at you to say something, anything, to keep this connection alive. But the unspoken understanding between you seemed to hold you back. Maybe it was the magic of the season, or maybe it was the hope of fate stepping in again.

"Take care, Y/N," he said, his voice low and warm.

"You too, Chris," you replied softly, watching as he walked away into the night. His silhouette disappeared into the crowd, leaving you with nothing but the faint scent of cinnamon and the memory of his smile.

As you headed home, a part of you couldn't help but wonder—would you see him again? The thought warmed you against the cold winter night, a tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest like the fairy lights on the tree.

On Monday, you and Mariko had a meeting with Jeff to present the outline for the new article about data brokers.

Mariko did a fantastic job with the presentation, clearly and confidently explaining the structure and focus of the piece. You had contributed some crucial information, and now it was your turn to bring up an idea you'd been mulling over all weekend.

You were a little nervous about Jeff's reaction, but so far, he seemed pleased with the outline, offering only minor feedback.

"Jeff, there's one more thing I'd like to discuss," you said, trying to sound casual. "Have you heard of Vanguard Solutions?"

Yes, I've heard of them," Jeff replied. "One of the top IT and cybersecurity firms. What about them?"

"Well..." You hesitated for a fraction of a second before diving in. "I happen to know the CEO, and I thought about reaching out to him for an interview. His perspective could add a lot of value to our article. What do you think?"

"That would be incredible!" Jeff said, his interest piqued. "Do you really think he'll agree to an interview? Usually, companies like that are pretty reserved."

"I'll do my best to get it," you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"That's the spirit!" Jeff said, a grin forming on his face.Then, with a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes, he added, "I'm not going to ask how you came to know him..."

Before you could respond, Mariko chimed in, her voice dripping with mischief. "Yeah, no need to explain. We'll just assume it's...purely professional." She teased, nudging you lightly.

You couldn't help but blush, the teasing hitting a little too close to home. "It's nothing like that, I swear! I just met him by chance."

"Oh sure," Mariko said with an arched eyebrow, "by chance. At a Christmas market."

"Enough, you two!" you groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips.

Jeff chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm sure it'll all work out. Getting an interview with him could take this article to a whole new level. Privacy and data brokers are hot topics right now, and getting an industry leader's take on it would add a lot of weight."

You nodded, feeling more confident. "I'll email him today."

"Good," Jeff said, leaning back in his chair. "But remember, no pressure. If it doesn't happen, we'll find another angle. Still, I have faith you'll pull this off."

Back in the office with Mariko, the teasing began almost immediately.

"Sooo," she started, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "you're going to meet your CEO again."

"He's not my CEO," you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't hide the triumphant smile on your lips. "But yes, I'm officially going to meet him again after skating with him over the weekend."

Mariko nearly dropped her cup of green tea. "You did what? Why didn't you text me immediately? Okay, spill—tell me everything!"

You took a deep breath, unable to suppress your smile. "I went to the skating rink on Saturday, and while I was lacing up my skates, guess who suddenly appeared next to me?"

"No way!" Mariko exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

"He said he had an appointment with a client who was supposed to show him around the city, but the client canceled last minute. So, he wandered around on his own and somehow ended up at the skating rink."

Mariko leaned back in her chair, smirking. "What a coincidence—or should I say, what a fated event? Unless he's a stalker." She snickered at her own joke.

"He's not a stalker!" you protested, laughing. "It was pure chance. Right place, right time."

"Okay, fine. But what happened next? Did you actually skate with him? Because let's face it—you're not exactly...graceful on ice."

You groaned. "We skated together if you can even call it that. He skated like a prince, and I was wobbling around like a baby deer."

Mariko burst into laughter, nearly spilling her tea. "I can so picture that."

"It gets worse," you admitted. "He was so elegant that everyone was watching him. And, of course, some girls started eyeing him—you know, the type who actually can skate. I felt so insecure. I didn't want to hold him back, so I told him I was leaving."

Mariko's grin faltered. "You didn't."

"Oh, I did," you said, nodding gravely. "And then I managed to turn it into a scene straight out of a movie."

Mariko leaned forward, eyes wide. "Oh no...don't tell me..."

"I lost my balance right before reaching the exit," you confessed, covering your face with your hands as the memory replayed in your mind.

"No way!" Mariko gasped.

"And just when I thought I was about to faceplant onto the ice..." You peeked through your fingers, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

"What? What happened?" Mariko practically shouted, her excitement palpable.

"Chris caught me. Right before I hit the ice, he just...caught me in his arms," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mariko squealed so loudly you thought the entire office might hear. "Oh my gosh, Y/N! That's so K-drama-worthy. How was it?"

"How was what?" you asked, confused.

"Being in his arms, obviously!" Mariko exclaimed, exasperated but grinning.

You sighed, your cheeks heating up. "It was...so nice. I felt so safe. He's so strong but, at the same time, so gentle. And he was seriously concerned about me."

Mariko clutched her chest dramatically. "Oh, Y/N, you've got it bad. It's all over your face. This is so romantic! Please tell me you exchanged numbers after that fairy-tale moment."

Your smile faltered. "No," you admitted, disappointment creeping into your voice. "He got an emergency call from his teammate and had to leave right away."

Mariko groaned, throwing her head back. "Ugh, the universe is playing games with you two. But you're meeting him again for the article, right?"

You nodded, a flicker of hope returning. "Yes. And this time, I won't let the chance slip away."

Mariko grinned mischievously. "Good. And if you do, I'm marching straight to Vanguard Solutions myself."

You started typing a professional email, carefully explaining why you were reaching out and asking if it might be possible to interview the CEO of Vanguard Solutions. Each word felt heavier than the last as you meticulously adjusted the tone and phrasing, rereading the text for what felt like the tenth time before finally hitting "Send."

With a sigh of relief, you leaned back in your chair, turning to Mariko. "Ugh, it was just an email, but it felt like I was writing an exposé to save my career," you whined, rubbing your temples.

Mariko laughed, leaning her chin on her hand. "Part one of the mission is done. Now we just wait for their response. I really hope they agree—it would be a huge boost for the article."

"Me too," you said, almost absentmindedly. In truth, your thoughts were divided. On one hand, you hoped for a positive reply because it would elevate your article to a whole new level. On the other hand, you couldn't deny the flicker of excitement at the thought of meeting Chris again.

Mariko's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she broke the silence. "If they agree, can I come with you? I'm dying to meet this CEO of yours. Of course, you'd handle the interview, but I could take some photos for the article. A professional headshot—or maybe a candid shot if he looks extra dreamy," she teased.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes at her antics. "Sure, I'd actually appreciate your company."

"Perfect!" she exclaimed, grinning. "I can't wait to see this story unfold. Just don't forget to let me know the moment you hear back from them. The suspense is killing me already!"

You couldn't help but smile at her excitement, though deep down, you felt a nervous flutter in your chest. You could only hope the response from Vanguard Solutions would be everything you were wishing for—professionally and personally.

Before leaving the office, you gave your emails one last check. "Just one more time," you thought, even though you'd been refreshing your inbox all day with no luck. Once again, the screen showed no new emails. "Maybe tomorrow," you sighed, moving your cursor to close the application.

Just as you were about to log off, a new email notification popped up. Your eyes widened when you saw the sender: Vanguard Solutions.

Your heart started pounding as you quickly clicked to open it, scanning the content with growing excitement.

Mariko, who was packing her things, glanced over at you. "What's up? You look like you've just seen a ghost—or won the lottery."

You stayed silent for a beat, trying to keep your composure, but the joy bubbling inside you was too much to contain. Finally, you broke into a wide grin. "They agreed! We're getting the interview!" you nearly shouted.

Mariko's jaw dropped before she erupted into a cheer. "No way! Oh my gosh, yes!" She dropped her bag and rushed over. The two of you started jumping around in excitement, holding hands like giddy schoolgirls.

"We have to tell Jeff!" Mariko exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

"Tell me what?" Jeff's voice came from the doorway. He stood there, looking puzzled at the sight of you both bouncing around like maniacs.

Mariko nudged you forward, giving you the honor of delivering the news.

"We're going to interview Vanguard Solutions!" you exclaimed, your voice almost a squeal.

Jeff's eyes widened in shock before a grin broke across his face. "No way! You did it!" Without hesitation, he joined in on the celebration, jumping up and down with you and Mariko like a big kid.

After a few moments, Jeff composed himself, adjusting his tie and clearing his throat. "Great job, both of you. I knew you were the right people for this. When's the interview?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," you replied, still beaming. "It's just a 30-minute time slot, but it's better than nothing. Mariko and I will spend the morning preparing to make the most of it."

"Perfect," Jeff said, nodding approvingly. "I wish I could tag along, but I'm tied up in meetings all day. I know you'll knock it out of the park."

"Leave it to us, boss," Mariko chimed in confidently.

With that, you and Mariko left the office, still riding the high of your small but significant victory. Over dinner, the two of you toasted to your success, vowing to make the most of tomorrow's big opportunity.

The next morning, you and Mariko spent hours meticulously preparing for the meeting. You went over every question, sorting them by priority, and ensured nothing important would be left out. Mariko had also planned a list of ideal shots to capture for the article, wanting to match the professionalism of the piece with stunning visuals.

Now, sitting in the passenger seat as Mariko drove through the bustling city streets, you felt like a bundle of nerves. Your heart was racing, and you were gripping your notes tightly.

Why did you feel this way? This wasn't your first professional meeting, and it wasn't even your first time meeting Chris. Sure, it was the first time in a business setting, but it was still him. The gentle, humorous Chris who had caught you before you could hit the ice just days ago. That thought alone brought a smile to your face.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Mariko teased, side-eyeing you as she maneuvered the car into a quieter street. "You're thinking about your CEO, aren't you?"

"I'm... not," you stammered, though your flushed cheeks betrayed you.

Mariko raised an arched eyebrow at you, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

"Okay, fine, I am," you admitted, throwing your hands up.

"I can't help it! I'm nervous, excited, happy, and a complete mess all at once."

Mariko chuckled as she pulled into the parking lot of the towering glass building ahead. "Relax," she said, her tone warm and encouraging. "You know Chris. Everything's going to be just fine."

You stepped out of the car and stood next to her, both of you looking up at the sleek skyscraper gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"Quite impressive, huh?" Mariko said, shading her eyes as she took in the architectural marvel.

"Yep," you replied, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Ours looks like a cozy cottage compared to this."

Mariko turned to you with a supportive smile. "You ready?"

You took a deep breath, standing tall and determined. "Yes, I am. Let's go."

Together, you strode toward the building, your heels clicking on the pavement with purpose. The glass doors opened with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the grand, polished lobby.

A friendly receptionist greeted you warmly as you stepped into the sleek lobby. "I'll let them know you're here," she said, flashing a professional smile. "You can take the elevator to the 8th floor."

You thanked her and made your way to the elevators, the soft hum of activity around you only heightening your nerves. Inside the elevator, you couldn't ignore the fluttering in your chest. Just a few more moments, and you would see him again. Would he act differently this time? Perhaps he would keep things strictly professional, pretending as if you didn't know each other outside of this setting.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing your arrival. As the doors slid open, another polished, attractive woman greeted you at the landing. "Welcome," she said with a practiced smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

Walking through the corridor, you passed a series of sleek glass-walled offices. The employees inside were dressed impeccably, their tailored suits and sharp blouses radiating professionalism. You and Mariko, dressed in business casual, suddenly felt a bit underdressed.

You tried to shake off the feeling, but as you walked past, your eyes caught sight of a few women chatting animatedly. They were effortlessly elegant, their poise and beauty only adding to your unease. Chris works with people like this every day, the thought crept in. A small, unwelcome voice whispered in your mind: "You really thought you had a chance? Fool."

Suppressing the pang in your chest, you followed the woman into a medium-sized meeting room. The space was immaculate, with a polished wooden table at its center and a large screen for presentations dominating one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, the sunlight glinting off the distant skyscrapers.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," the woman said, gesturing to the table. "If you'd like something to drink, there's water available over here." She pointed to a neatly arranged refreshment table.

"Thank you very much," you replied, offering her a polite smile before she stepped out of the room.

As you settled into your seat, the nerves returned in full force. You straightened your notes and glanced at Mariko, who gave you an encouraging nod. She had prepared her photo equipment, ready to spring into action. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

At precisely 2 p.m., the muffled sound of voices outside the door signaled that someone was about to enter. Mariko shot you an encouraging smile as you adjusted your posture, trying to calm your racing heart, your eyes fixed hopefully on the door as it slowly creaked open.

But instead of Chris, a different man stepped into the room. He was tall, composed, and dressed impeccably in a tailored navy suit. His confident stride exuded authority. The polite smile you had prepared faltered for a split second, and Mariko glanced between you and the unexpected visitor, her eyebrows raising slightly.

"Good afternoon, ladies," the man began with a warm but professional tone. "I'm Felix, the Deputy CEO of Vanguard Solutions. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Chris, who sends his sincerest apologies. Unfortunately, an urgent matter required his immediate attention."

He paused, his expression genuinely apologetic. "To make up for this unforeseen change, I've extended our meeting to a full hour, and I'll do my best to address all your questions thoroughly. Thank you for your understanding."

Though disappointment tugged at your chest, you managed a gracious smile and rose to greet him. "Good afternoon, Felix. I'm Y/N, and this is my colleague Mariko. Thank you very much for stepping in and accommodating us so generously."

Felix nodded, his smile softening. "It's a pleasure to meet you both, and I appreciate your flexibility. Please, feel free to take any photos you need for your article—I'll do my best to make this meeting worthwhile."

Mariko chimed in, "Thank you, Felix. That's very kind of you."

You took a deep breath and gestured toward your notes. "We'd like to start with a few personal questions to provide a brief profile for our readers, if that's all right, before moving on to the main discussion."

"Absolutely," Felix said, settling into a chair across from you. "Let's get started."

The interview turned out to be both engaging and insightful. Felix proved to be an exceptional speaker, effortlessly distilling complex processes and ideas into terms you could easily grasp. His confident, articulate manner made the time fly by, and Mariko had taken full advantage of the opportunity, snapping photos midway through the session. Her enthusiasm for photography was clear, and you noticed how she lingered on his well-defined features. Still, no matter how charismatic Felix was, your mind kept wandering to Chris. To you, he was in a league of his own.

Before you knew it, the hour was up. With Felix's generous extension, you'd managed to ask every question on your list, yet a small part of you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Chris hadn't appeared, and you realized you'd been holding onto the faint hope that he might walk in at the last moment. But now, with your notes packed and the meeting concluded, that hope had faded.

As you gathered your things, Felix offered a courteous smile. "I'm glad we could make this work. If you need any additional information, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone as polished as ever.

"Thank you again for your time, Felix," you replied sincerely as he walked you and Mariko to the elevator.

"The pleasure was mine," he said warmly, pressing the button for the elevator. "It's always refreshing to speak with people who are genuinely interested in what we do. Have a safe journey back."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and you stepped inside. Mariko offered him a cheerful goodbye, but you hesitated for a moment, glancing back one last time. A fleeting thought crossed your mind—perhaps Chris had wanted to come but couldn't. With a quiet sigh, you gave Felix a polite nod, and the doors closed, leaving you alone with your thoughts as the elevator began its descent.

Felix returned to the meeting room to gather his things before heading back to his office. As he zipped his portfolio shut, a voice from the doorway startled him.

"Did they already leave?"

Felix jumped slightly, looking up to see Chris leaning against the frame. "Don't sneak up on me like that," Felix muttered, shaking his head. "Yes, they left a few minutes ago."

Chris' shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the disappointment evident on his face. He stepped into the room, glancing at the now-empty chairs. "I tried to wrap up the meeting as quickly as I could," he admitted. "I even suggested extending their interview time, hoping to catch them before they left. Guess I didn't make it in time."

Felix smirked, sensing something unusual in his friend's demeanor. "How did the meeting go? Did they ask about me?" Chris asked, attempting to sound casual but failing miserably.

"It went really well," Felix replied, packing up his notes. "They were prepared, had great questions, and seemed genuinely interested in what we do. Time flew by." He paused, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Oh, and that journalist—Y/N, was it? She's quite charming. I might just send her a little follow-up text, you know, to keep things professional... and maybe not-so-professional."

Chris froze, his eyes narrowing. "Don't," he said sharply, the word carrying a surprising intensity.

Felix raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback. "Whoa, what's with the tone? It's just a text, man."

"It's... unprofessional," Chris countered, his voice firm but his expression betraying something deeper. "We don't want to risk anything that could make them uncomfortable or give the wrong impression. So, please, don't contact her—at least not right now."

Felix studied him for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oookay," he replied slowly, his voice laced with suspicion. "I won't text her."

Chris exhaled, visibly relieved. "Good. Now, let's talk about the meeting," he said, quickly changing the subject as they walked toward their offices.

Felix followed, his grin widening as he pieced things together. "You know," he began, his tone light, "if I didn't know better, I'd think someone has a little crush on our journalist."

"Drop it, Felix," Chris shot back, though the faint color rising to his cheeks said more than his words ever could.

Back at the office, you and Mariko dove into wrapping up the interview, so focused on sorting out the details that Chris didn't even cross your mind—at least, not until the work was done. You both stayed late, working overtime to compile the interview notes, contextualize the answers for the article, select the most striking photos, and debrief Jeff on the entire experience. He had stuck around to offer helpful insights for the piece, which you both appreciated.

By the time the clock struck almost 9 p.m., you were finally ready to call it a day.

"Let's pick it up from here tomorrow," Mariko said, stretching her arms over her head. "I think we've made a lot of progress."

"Agreed," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. "My brain's officially fried."

Mariko studied you for a moment, noticing the flicker of disappointment in your expression despite your words. She closed her laptop and leaned on the desk.

"Hey, he was busy, that's all," she said gently. "Don't overthink it. And honestly, Felix was great! And those photos of him? Ugh, he could be a model."

You managed a small, sincere smile. "True, he did a great job." After a short pause, you continued, "You know, maybe I just gave those two encounters more meaning than they deserved. I might've read too much into his actions. Did you see all those gorgeous women working there? He's surrounded by them every day."

Mariko rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Y/N, stop comparing yourself to them. You're beautiful, too, and you have an amazing personality. Sure, they might be stunning, but who's to say they're his type? Or that they have anything in common with him beyond working at the same place?"

Her words struck a chord, and you nodded thoughtfully. "I guess you're right," you said, trying to sound optimistic.

Mariko gave you a knowing grin. "And hey, he might reach out now that he has your email. He might follow up about the interview. Maybe it's just a matter of time. Don't let it get to you."

You exhaled deeply, the weight of her encouragement starting to ease your mind. "Thanks, Mariko, for cheering me up. I needed that."

"Always. That's what friends are for," she said, gathering her things. "Now, c'mon. I'll give you a ride. It's late, and I don't want you getting kidnapped by some creepy Santa on the way home."

"As if anyone would want to kidnap me," you said, laughing softly.

Mariko smirked. "True. They'd give you back after one hour of nonstop questioning."

"Hey!" you protested, laughing now. "That's my job, thank you very much."

Both of you chuckled as you headed out into the chilly night, the bond of friendship warming the otherwise cold air.

The next day, you threw yourself into your work, splitting your time between the article you were writing with Mariko and your own solo project. The office buzzed with its usual energy, a comforting backdrop as you typed away and sifted through research.

Still, despite your focus, you couldn't help but steal glances at your email inbox from time to time, holding onto a small, stubborn hope. Each time, the blank notification panel stared back at you, its silence louder than you wanted to admit.

By the end of the day, you had finished your article and leaned back in your chair, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Tomorrow, you'd review everything with Jeff and fine-tune it before submission.

Mariko chatted with you occasionally throughout the day, her cheerful energy keeping the atmosphere light. But you hadn't brought up Chris once, even though he was never far from your thoughts.

His absence in your inbox gnawed at you, but you refused to let it show. If he hadn't reached out, maybe that was his choice. And while the idea stung, you reminded yourself that your worth didn't hinge on his attention.

You sat up straighter, determination hardening your resolve. Whatever the reason for his silence, you had enough self-esteem to not chase after someone who might not want to be caught.

For now, you decided, work was enough. And so, you powered off your computer and headed home, closing the day on your own terms.

On Thursday, you and Jeff worked through the final changes for your article. Thankfully, the edits were manageable, and you felt confident you'd be ready for submission soon. Afterward, you joined Mariko to continue refining the collaborative piece.

At lunchtime, Mariko broke the steady rhythm of work with a question. "Did you hear anything from Chris? Did he email you? Sorry, I've been so deep in my research I forgot to ask. You seemed pretty absorbed yesterday, too."

You let out a heavy sigh and pushed your food around on your plate. "Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zero."

Mariko winced. "Oh."

"Yeah," you said, trying to shrug it off. "I'm doing my best not to dwell on it. If we're meant to meet again, it'll happen. If not, well, that's life. So, let's just not talk about him anymore."

"As you wish." Mariko nodded but gave you a small smile. "Just one last thing—don't lose hope, okay?"

You chuckled despite yourself. "I won't." Even if you tried to let it go, there was still something magical about the thought of Chris. It felt too special to let despair take over.

Changing the subject, you asked, "By the way, why did your aunt drop by last weekend?"

Mariko rolled her eyes. "Ugh, don't remind me. My mom got worried because I hadn't called her as often as usual. So, naturally, she sent my aunt to check on me. And, of course, my aunt decided to stick around for the whole weekend, 'just to make sure everything was okay.'"

You laughed. "Classic. Just call her regularly, and you won't have to deal with any surprise visits. We should still go skating together, you know. With you, it'd be fun."

"You just sound like my mom," Mariko teased, grinning. "But yeah, let's make it happen."

The rest of the afternoon passed in productive focus. As the evening approached, Mariko packed her things to leave. "You sure you don't want to come with us?" she asked, referring to her plans with her boyfriend, Akira—who insisted on being called Andy.

"Thanks, but I want to dive into this new story I've been following. Rain check?"

"Okay, your loss." Mariko shrugged playfully. "See you tomorrow. Have a good evening, and I'll say hi to Andy for you."

"Thanks! Have fun," you said, waving as she left.

You stayed for another half hour, scrolling through news articles and making notes. But soon, the words on the screen began to blur. You leaned back in your chair, letting your gaze fall on the snow globe sitting on your desk. Your thoughts drifted to the skating rink and Chris.

The memory brought both warmth and longing. Still no email. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself that maybe it just wasn't meant to be. But the ache lingered.

Deciding you'd had enough for one day, you packed up your things and headed home. Your couch—and maybe a warm drink—were calling your name. At least there, you could unwind and let the day fade into quiet.

The crisp night air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped outside, but you welcomed it. It was refreshing after a long day, and the quiet beckoned you to unwind. Since it wasn't too late, you decided to take a detour through the park near the skating rink.

The park was dressed for the season, twinkling fairy lights strung along tree branches, casting a soft, magical glow over the paths. It felt like stepping into a scene from a Christmas movie, with the subtle crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional laughter of distant passersby adding to the ambiance.

You wandered aimlessly, soaking in the tranquility, until you spotted an empty bench under a particularly enchanting canopy of lights. You made your way over, sitting down and closing your eyes for a moment.

Breathe. Just be present, you told yourself, letting the tension of the day melt away.

"Good evening."

The soft voice startled you out of your pause. Your eyes shot open, and your heart stuttered in recognition. There he was—Chris. His handsome face was framed by the warm glow of the lights, his expression a mix of hesitance and something else you couldn't quite place.

"Good evening, Chris." You tried to keep your voice steady, though a flutter of nerves bubbled up inside.

"May I sit down?" he asked gently, gesturing to the bench.

You nodded quickly, scooting over to make space. "Sure, please."

He settled beside you, his presence palpable in the cool night air. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He seemed to be studying you, his eyes searching your face as if trying to piece together your thoughts.

"What are you doing here?" he asked finally, his voice low and soft.

You hesitated but answered honestly. "Just enjoying the scenery. My brain needed a break."

He nodded, his gaze briefly drifting to the lights. "It's beautiful here."

"It is. How about you? What brings you out tonight?"

"I needed to clear my thoughts," he admitted, pausing as if gathering his words. "About work."

The mention of work sent a ripple of tension through you. You glanced down at your hands, unsure of where this was going.

"I heard you and your colleague came for an interview," he began cautiously.

You nodded but kept your eyes lowered, prompting him to continue.

"I rearranged my schedule to make space for it. I really wanted to help you with your article."

Your head shot up, surprise written all over your face. He had rearranged his schedule?

"But," he continued, a hint of frustration in his tone, "an urgent matter came up—one that required my immediate attention. I had no choice but to ask Felix to fill in for me. I even told him to extend the interview time, hoping I could join if I wrapped things up quickly."

You blinked at him, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I... I thought if I hurried, I could still make it," he said, his voice quieter now. "But when I got to the room, you were already gone."

Your heart raced, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. He had tried to be there. He had wanted to see you. The thought warmed you, pushing away the insecurities that had clouded your mind since the interview.

He cared.

"Thank you," you said softly, your voice almost catching. You fought the urge to tear up but couldn't help the slight tremor in your words. "Thank you for arranging everything and putting so much effort into the interview. Don't worry about not making it. I understand—your work is important."

You hesitated, then added with a shy smile, "Felix did a great job. But I'll admit, I would have preferred talking to you."

His eyes lit up at your confession, the corners of his mouth lifting into that familiar, warm smile. "Me too, Y/N."

The way he said your name sent a thrill through you.

"If you need more information, please don't hesitate to reach out to me directly," he said. "I promise I'll make the time. No interruptions this time."

His words were sincere, his smile tinged with regret and hope.

You smiled back, the lingering sadness in your chest melting away. "I'll hold you to that promise."

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you under the canopy of twinkling lights. It was a small moment, but it felt significant.

He cleared his throat before continuing. "How is the article? Is it slowly taking shape?"

"Yes, Mariko and I wrapped up the interview immediately after returning to the office. Our boss was really pleased. This is going to be a great article, also thanks to your help."

"I'm glad to hear that. Can't wait to read the article."

"You're going to get a free exemplar signed by me," you joked.

"What an honor," he chuckled.

"How has your work been? You mentioned that you need to clear your mind," you said.

Chris stared at a nearby tree, his expression contemplative. "Well, let's say complicated. I need to make some important decisions. And I need to think it through before giving my answer."

"I see. I'm sure you'll do the right thing, Chris. Take your time."

He nodded silently, then he turned to you with a soft smile. "How about going for a walk here in the park and getting a hot chocolate? I need some sugar to recharge."

How could you say no to that sweet smile? "I'm in," you said.

Chris got you a hot chocolate from a nearby stall, the warm cup heating your hands against the chilly air. "Careful, it's hot," he warned as he handed you your drink. The two of you started strolling down the park's illuminated pathways, fairy lights twinkling above like stars.

You took a small sip, the rich, sweet flavor spreading warmth through you. "Mmm, this is good. Thanks for the treat."

"My pleasure," he replied, and the two of you started walking down the park path, the glow of fairy lights lighting the way.

For a while, you walked in companionable silence, the soft crunch of snow underfoot and the distant hum of the skating rink filling the air.

"So," he began, glancing sideways at you, "what made you want to become a journalist?"

You thought for a moment, swirling your drink. "I've always been curious about people and their stories. I guess I wanted to be someone who connects the dots, who gives voices to those who need to be heard."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That's admirable. And from what I've seen, you're really good at it. You have a way of putting people at ease."

"Thank you," you said, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks. "What about you? Did you always want to be a CEO?"

He chuckled softly. "Not exactly. When I was younger, I wanted to be an architect. I loved designing things, creating something out of nothing. But..." He paused, his gaze drifting upward toward the twinkling lights. "Life had other plans. The family business needed someone to step in, so I did."

"Do you regret it?" you asked, your voice soft.

"No, not really. It's challenging, but I've learned to find joy in what I do. I get to shape the company and make a difference for the people who work there."

"That's a great way to look at it," you said, impressed by his perspective.

As you continued walking, the skating rink came into view, its bright lights and cheerful energy drawing your attention. Children and adults alike glided over the ice, their laughter filling the night.

Chris followed your gaze. "So... how are your skating legs after the other night?"

You laughed, recalling your previous outing. "Still intact, but I think I left some of my dignity on the ice."

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "I thought you did pretty well, considering the wipeout count was only... what, three?"

"Excuse me, it was two, thank you very much," you corrected, playfully narrowing your eyes. "And don't forget—you slipped too."

"Once," he countered with a grin.

"Once is still enough!" you shot back, and the two of you shared a laugh, the air between you feeling lighter than ever.

As you continued walking, the skating rink faded into the distance, replaced by the quieter charm of the park's frozen pond. Chris slowed his pace, his expression turning thoughtful as he glanced at you.

"There's something special happening this week," he said, his tone casual yet hopeful. "The Christmas tree lighting ceremony in the city square. It's on Saturday night. I'll be there... Maybe you'll be there too?"

Your heart fluttered at his words. This wasn't just an invitation—it was a deliberate effort to see you again. You couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face, and you nodded softly. "I'd like that," your cheeks blushing.

His own smile widened, and for a moment, it felt as though the rest of the world disappeared, leaving just the two of you in the soft glow of the lights.

Saturday arrived in the blink of an eye, and the anticipation of your first real date with Chris had you buzzing. You'd told Mariko all about it, and she couldn't have been happier for you. Ever the best friend, she'd helped you pick the perfect outfit: a dark green A-line dress paired with black stockings and chic stiletto boots. Gold and green jewelry added a touch of elegance, while a wine-red A-line coat with a black bow at the neckline and matching black gloves completed the ensemble. You'd prepared everything the night before, ensuring nothing was left to chance.

But fate had other plans.

Since you had enough time, you decide to do some grocery shopping. The queue at the tills was endless, each minute stretching longer than the last. You checked your watch nervously, trying to calm the rising anxiety. "It's fine," you told yourself, "I still have plenty of time." But as the line refused to budge, an announcement blared through the store speakers: "Dear customers, please be patient. A technical error has occurred. We are working to resolve it as quickly as possible."

"Great." You sighed, hoping it wouldn't take too long. Thirty frustrating minutes later, the tills were finally operational, and the line inched forward. What was supposed to be a quick errand had turned into a mini endurance test.

By the time you loaded your shopping bags into the car, you needed a moment to collect yourself. "We're off to a good start," you muttered sarcastically, taking a deep breath before starting the engine.

If the store chaos wasn't enough, the roads seemed equally unforgiving. Every light turned red as you approached, and traffic crawled at a snail's pace. The stress was mounting, but when you finally pulled into your driveway, relief washed over you.

You sank back into your seat for a moment before heading inside. "Note to self," you thought wryly, "on days with important events, don't tempt fate with unnecessary errands."

With that, you resolved to shake off the morning's chaos. After all, the day was far from over, and you still had your date to look forward to.

You headed into the kitchen to unpack your groceries and start preparing something to eat. As you opened the fridge to put things away, your hand brushed against a jar of pickles perched precariously near the edge. Time seemed to slow as the jar tipped forward, tumbling out of your grasp.

"Nononono!" you yelped, reaching for it too late. The jar hit the floor with a loud crash, shards of glass scattering everywhere, and a wave of pickle brine soaking your socks.

You stared down at the mess, stunned. "Seriously? What is going on today?"

With a deep sigh, you grabbed some paper towels and a broom, carefully picking up the glass pieces while trying not to step on anything sharp. The tangy vinegar smell filled the kitchen as you worked, your socks now a lost cause.

To make matters worse, as you carried the glass shards to the trash, you accidentally bumped into the edge of the counter, knocking over the salt shaker. Its contents spilled everywhere. "Of course," you muttered to yourself. "Why not? Let's just go for a full comedy of errors."

Despite the chaos, you forced yourself to stay calm. You

cleaned up the glass, the brine, and the salt, finally setting the kitchen back to rights. As you tossed your briny socks into the laundry, you couldn't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all.

"Okay, universe, I get it," you said with a small grin. "No more disasters today, please."

You shook off the lingering frustration. Tonight, you would see Chris again, and the thought of him warmed your heart, washing away the mishaps of the day.

It was finally time to get ready for the evening. No more mishaps, you promised yourself. You carefully applied your makeup, accentuating your eyes just the way you liked. You styled your hair with care, adding a touch of elegance that you hoped would pleasantly surprise Chris. The last time you met, your look had been casual, but tonight was different—you wanted to make an impression.

A final spritz of your favorite perfume added the perfect finishing touch. You gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror and smiled, satisfied. "Not bad, Y/N," you murmured, hoping Chris would agree.

To avoid the chaos of city traffic, you'd decided to take the subway into the city center. Leaving earlier gave you a comfortable buffer, or so you thought. As you exited your apartment building and headed toward the subway station, a nagging thought hit you. Your phone.

"Ugh, how could I forget my phone now of all times?" you muttered, spinning on your heel and rushing back toward your building.

Hurrying to your apartment door, your heart sank as you searched your bag. No keys. A wave of panic began to rise, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. "Relax

and think, Y/N," you coached yourself. You patted your coat pocket and—thankfully—felt the reassuring weight of your keys.

Inside, you darted to the bedroom, scanning frantically before spotting your phone sitting innocently on the dresser. Relief washed over you for all of two seconds—until, in your rush to leave, you caught your leg on the doorframe. A sharp sound tore through the air. You looked down in horror to see a gaping run in your left stocking.

"No way. What the...!" you groaned, staring at the damage. A glance at your watch made your stomach flip—you'd miss the next subway, too. Your buffer was quickly vanishing.

You dashed to your drawer and grabbed a fresh pair of stockings, slipping them on as fast as you could. Before leaving the apartment, you did a mental checklist: phone, keys, wallet, everything. Satisfied, you stepped out the door again, silently pleading with the universe to give you a break.

As you finally made your way to the subway, you muttered to yourself with a wry grin, "Okay, Y/N, enough excitement for one day. Let's just make it on time—and in one piece."

The subway station was a whirlwind of activity. Crowds of people bustled around, many also headed to the ceremony. You glanced at your watch again, anxiety knotting your stomach. You were going to be at least fifteen minutes late, and it gnawed at you. Punctuality was important to you, and the thought of Chris waiting alone made you uneasy. Hopefully, you'd still make it in time to witness the magical moment when the Christmas tree lights were switched on with Chris.

When the subway finally arrived, relief swept over you—until you saw it. Your breath caught. The train was packed to bursting, with no space to squeeze in. A sinking feeling gripped you as the station announcement crackled overhead: "Due to an earlier breakdown, this train is at capacity. Boarding is not permitted. Please wait for the next available train."

Your shoulders slumped, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Why was this happening today of all days? It was as if the universe was conspiring against you. If you were much later, Chris might think you weren't coming and leave. Worse, you hadn't asked for his number, a mistake you now regretted deeply.

"You're so stupid, Y/N. Serves you right," you muttered bitterly under your breath, scolding yourself. The excitement of being asked out by Chris had clouded your judgment, and now you were paying the price.

The next ten minutes dragged painfully, each second stretching into an eternity. When the next train arrived, it wasn't as crowded, and you scrambled aboard, relief mingling with lingering frustration. To your surprise, you even managed to find a seat, but as you sank into it, your eyes darted to your phone.

Half an hour late.

The guilt weighed heavily on you, threatening to smother the joy you'd felt earlier in the day. You just hoped Chris would still be waiting.

Chris had arrived earlier than planned, wanting to ensure he was there to greet you. His usual confidence wavered, replaced by a strange nervous energy. It was unfamiliar territory for him; meetings with high-profile clients, critical decisions, and tight deadlines never fazed him. But waiting for you was different. Ever since that first accidental encounter, when you'd quite literally stumbled into his life, he couldn't shake the thought that you were extraordinary.

You weren't like the women who typically gravitated toward him—drawn by his wealth, his title, or the opportunities he could offer. You saw him, not his résumé. That thought warmed him in a way he couldn't fully articulate.

Being around you felt easy, natural, and profoundly different from the polished performances he had to endure in his world.

With plenty of time on his hands, he wandered the square. The scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the

chilly air. Small Christmas stalls dotted the area, selling everything from warm drinks and festive snacks to handcrafted toys and ornaments. It was quaint and picturesque, a perfect setting for a holiday evening.

He glanced at his watch. You could arrive at any moment now. The ceremony began with a speech by the mayor, who stood on a small stage flanked by twinkling lights and a children's choir. The crowd fell silent, all eyes on the festivities, but Chris' gaze remained fixed on the edge of the square. He scanned the faces in the growing crowd, searching for yours.

Fifteen minutes passed. The mayor concluded his speech, and the choir began to sing carols, their young voices ringing out like bells in the crisp night air. Still, there was no sign of you. A twinge of concern crept into his thoughts. What could have delayed you?

Chris repositioned himself closer to the towering Christmas tree, choosing a spot where you'd easily spot him as soon as you arrived. His eyes darted from the stage to the

crowd, scanning every approaching figure. But none of them were you.

Half an hour now. You still weren't there. A quiet unease settled over him. Why hadn't he thought to ask for your phone number? It seemed so obvious now, a mistake he couldn't fix. He'd wanted everything to be perfect, but this uncertainty gnawed at him.

Doubts began to creep in. Perhaps you'd changed your mind. Had he misread your excitement when he'd asked you out? Maybe you'd only agreed out of politeness, a way to avoid awkwardness. The thought sent a pang through him.

He turned his gaze to the giant Christmas tree, its golden lights shimmering like stars against the night sky. Funny how something so beautiful could suddenly feel so hollow. The crowd around him buzzed with laughter and anticipation, but all he felt was an unexpected sadness.

What if something had happened to you? The thought gnawed at Chris, a growing weight in his chest. He didn't even know which direction you'd be coming from or how to check if you were okay. He felt helpless, a feeling he detested.

Three-quarters of an hour had passed now. The ceremony was nearing its climax, but you were still nowhere in sight. His earlier excitement had fizzled into a mix of worry and disappointment.

The mayor took to the stage again after a brief performance by a local acting troupe. "Dear fellow citizens," the mayor's voice boomed over the speakers, "the time has come. Our Christmas tree will soon be shining in all its glory."

Chris tilted his head up at the tree, its unlit ornaments glistening like promises waiting to be fulfilled. "Y/N, where are you?" he thought, a pang of resignation tugging at his heart. Maybe he'd been wrong about you—about the connection he thought you shared. Perhaps your meeting wasn't the twist of fate he'd imagined it to be.

The idea stung more than he cared to admit. He shifted on his feet, glancing at the time on his watch. He didn't want to be here if you weren't. The joy of the evening had faded, and the sparkling festivities around him felt like a mockery.

Just as he turned to leave, he gave the crowd one last, reluctant glance.

And then he saw you.

You were threading through the throng of people, your cheeks flushed from the cold—or maybe from running. Your scarf was askew, a tangled mess around your neck, and your hair had caught in the wind's playful grip. You looked like you'd rushed here without a moment to spare.

To Chris, you looked perfect.

A wave of relief washed over him, warming him to his core. The knot of worry in his chest unraveled as his heart soared. He didn't even notice the mayor counting down to the tree lighting; the world had shrunk to just you.

You hadn't seen him yet, your eyes darting around the crowd in search of him. And then, a few meters away, your gaze locked.

The apologetic smile that spread across your lips melted something inside him. "So cute," he thought with a soft

chuckle, the corners of his own mouth lifting into a smile.

Chris stepped forward, closing the distance between you. The lights of the tree burst to life behind him, casting a warm, golden glow over the square. But he barely noticed. The real light—the one he cared about—had finally arrived.

"Chris! Good evening," you said, breathless from both your rush and the excitement of seeing him.

"Y/N," he said, his smile soft and warm, relief shining in his eyes. "I'm glad you came."

"I'm so sorry for being so late," you began, words tumbling out in a frantic apology. "Thank you for waiting. Today was just—such a strange day. I forgot my phone, then had to go back, losing all the time I'd planned. Then there were delays at the subway, and the train was too full. I finally got on the next one and hurried here. On the way, I—"

"Y/N," he interrupted gently, his tone as warm as the glow of the tree behind him. His smile deepened, and his gaze softened even further. "You're here. That's all that matters."

You froze, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. The tension from your journey melted away, replaced by a warm flutter in your chest.

And then, as if the universe had been holding its breath, the first snowflakes began to fall.

Big, glistening flakes drifted from the sky, catching the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. The world seemed to fall silent, the crowd's chatter fading as the snow painted everything in a soft, magical haze.

"Wow..." you breathed, tilting your head back to take it in. "It's beautiful."

Chris wasn't looking at the snow. He was looking at you. His gaze lingered, filled with something unspoken yet undeniably tender. His heart felt impossibly full as he took in the wonder in your eyes, the gentle curve of your lips, and the way the snow seemed to sparkle on your hair.

He hesitated for a moment, not sure if he should say what he'd noticed. But the moment felt too perfect to let it slip away.

"I think we've been waiting for this all week," he murmured.

You blinked and turned to him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Instead of answering, he tilted his head and pointed upward.

Following his gesture, your eyes landed on a small sprig of mistletoe hanging above you, swaying slightly in the gentle winter breeze. Your cheeks flushed as you looked back at him, a shy smile spreading across your face.

Chris stepped closer, his movements unhurried, his gaze locked on yours. He paused, searching your expression for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. If anything, the quiet anticipation in your eyes mirrored his own.

Slowly, his hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, melting into a warmth that radiated through you.

"May I?" he asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You answered not with words but by closing the distance between you, your eyes fluttering shut in anticipation.

His lips brushed yours, feather-light at first, testing before pressing more firmly. The world seemed to fade away. The

snow fell quietly around you, the distant sound of Christmas music swelling as if scoring this perfect moment. His kiss was sweet, gentle, and unhurried, as though he wanted to savor every second of it—and so did you.

The crowd around you erupted into cheers, a spontaneous celebration of the lighting of the tree and, perhaps unknowingly, of your union. Christmas music filled the air, but you barely noticed.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and both of you were smiling. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your jaw.

"I think," he said, his voice low and intimate, "this is already the best Christmas I've ever had."

Your heart swelled, your gaze meeting his. "Mine too," you whispered.

And as the lights of the Christmas tree twinkled above, the snow fell softly, and the music played on, you knew this was a moment you'd never forget.

After the kiss, you shyly asked, "So... do we finally exchange numbers, or should I just hope to bump into you again?"

Chris laughed, warm and genuine, as he handed you his phone. "Let's make sure we don't leave this one to fate." You typed in your number, glancing up at him as you did. When you handed the phone back, he called your number right away, the faint chime of your ringtone confirming the connection.

"Saved," you said with a bright smile, feeling a flutter in your chest.

"Good," he said, tucking his phone away with a satisfied nod. "By the way, there's something else I have for you." Before you could respond, Chris handed you a small bag.

You looked at him, surprised. "Chris, you didn't have to," you murmured, accepting the bag and peeking inside.

Your breath caught. Nestled inside was a delicate bauble painted with a shimmering winter scene—a couple standing hand-in-hand, gazing at a majestic Christmas tree. It was the very bauble you had admired the night you first met.

"Chris," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gently cradled the ornament. "You remembered."

He smiled softly, his expression tender. "Of course I did. I saw how much you loved it. I couldn't let anyone else have it."

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Thank you so much, Chris. I'll treasure this forever."

The tips of his ears turned pink, and he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. For someone so composed in every other setting, his shy reaction made your heart melt.

"You're welcome, Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "It makes me happy to see you so happy."

You held the bauble close to your chest, your smile soft and sincere. "I truly am—not just because of this beautiful gift, but because I have you by my side now."

His eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Y/N, me too. Meeting you... this feels like my personal Christmas miracle."

Before you could respond, he leaned down, capturing your lips in another kiss. It was tender but filled with a longing that made your heart race. You melted into him, your hands instinctively resting against his chest as he held you close.

When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours. "Let's keep making magical moments together," he murmured, his voice full of hope.

You nodded enthusiastically, your fingers reaching out to intertwine with his. The world around you faded as you walked hand-in-hand through the snow-dusted square, the lights of the Christmas tree glowing softly behind you.

The End.

｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

Thank you for reading my story! 💝

Wishing you a magical New Year's Eve filled with joy and a happy, healthy start to the New Year. 🎆✨

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Love, YumiYue 🌙

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