The first snowflakes of the season drifted gently from the sky, settling on rooftops, tree branches, and the cobblestone streets of the small town. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and pine, and warm lights glowed from the windows of cafés and bookshops lining the main street.
Claire pulled her coat tighter around her as she stepped out of the bakery, her breath forming soft clouds in the freezing air. She hadn’t been back here in years. Not since him.
Ethan.
Her fingers tightened around the paper bag in her hands, filled with fresh pastries just like the ones they used to share. It was foolish to let a place hold so many memories, but this town had never just been a place to her. It had been a chapter of her life she had never truly closed.
She turned the corner, following the familiar path toward the town square, where a towering Christmas tree stood, twinkling with golden lights. People bustled around, wrapped in scarves and laughter, but Claire barely noticed them.
Because standing near the tree, hands tucked in his coat pockets, watching the snow fall with the same quiet intensity she remembered so well—was Ethan.
Her heart stilled.
He looked almost the same, yet different. His dark hair was dusted with snow, his sharp jawline softened by the glow of holiday lights. But it was his eyes—warm, knowing, like he had been waiting for this moment—that made her breath catch.
As if sensing her presence, he turned.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, the world faded—the crowd, the music, the cold. It was just them.
Then Ethan smiled. That smile. The one she had memorized, the one that still lived in the quiet corners of her heart.
“I thought I might see you here,” he said, his voice like a familiar melody.
Claire swallowed hard, her fingers curling around the bag. “And why’s that?”
His gaze flickered to the bakery behind her, then back to her face. “Because you always said the first snow was only perfect if it came with pastries.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
His smile deepened. “I remember everything.”
The warmth in her chest spread, melting away years of distance, of unspoken words.
She took a slow step forward. “How long are you here for?”
Ethan hesitated, then exhaled. “I don’t know.” His voice softened. “Maybe that depends on whether I have a reason to stay.”
Claire’s heart pounded.
She had spent so long convincing herself that the past belonged in the past. That what they had was a story with an ending.
But standing here, with snow falling between them and golden lights reflecting in his eyes, she realized—
Maybe some stories weren’t meant to end.
Slowly, she held out the bag. “Still take yours with extra cinnamon?”
Ethan chuckled, stepping closer, his fingers brushing hers as he took it. “You really remember that?”
Claire met his gaze, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
“I remember everything.”
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