❤️CHAPTER 13 — Christmas Market
1326 Words
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CHAPTER 13 — Christmas Market
Lumen POV
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The world doesn’t feel the same after almost losing myself.
I can still feel it—
that faint echo of static beneath my skin, like a memory my body refuses to release.
A cold sensation, sharp and invasive, that doesn’t belong to this life but still knows how to reach for me.
If Nunbi hadn’t held me earlier—
if she hadn’t wrapped her arms around me and pulled me back into warmth and breath and sound—
I don’t know if I would still be here like this.
Standing.
Breathing.
Human.
So when she slips her arm through mine as we step outside, I don’t hesitate.
I don’t question it.
I don’t analyze it.
I simply let it happen.
“Baby,” she says, not loud, but firm in that way she uses when she’s decided something already.
“Stay close to me today.”
Close.
After the morning I had, I don’t know how to be anything else.
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She ties a scarf around my neck before I can stop her.
It’s uneven—too loose on one side, twisted slightly at the back—but she fixes it with a little frown, stepping closer than necessary, her fingers brushing my collarbone as she adjusts it.
I freeze.
Not because I’m afraid.
Because my body hasn’t learned how to respond to this yet.
She leans in, concentrating, and for a moment all I can smell is her—soap, warmth, something faintly familiar that makes my chest tighten.
Then she steps back and narrows her eyes.
“…Right,” she says slowly. “That’s a problem.”
I blink. “What is?”
She tilts her head, studying me like I’m a puzzle she didn’t expect to enjoy this much.
“You’re too cute,” she says flatly. “People are going to stare. I’ll get annoyed.”
I don’t understand why my chest feels heavy after that.
Or why something warm spreads under my ribs.
Before I can ask, she takes my hand.
“Come on, Lumen,” she says. “Let’s go look at something pretty.”
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Outside is cold.
Not painfully—just enough to make everything sharper.
The air smells different here. Sweet. Spiced. Warm underneath the winter bite.
Lights stretch overhead in tangled lines, glowing gold and soft white, reflecting off metal stalls and glass ornaments.
The moment we step fully into the market, the world rushes me all at once.
Sound.
Movement.
Color.
My senses spike too fast.
Children laugh somewhere nearby. Bells ring. Music drifts between stalls. People brush past us, coats grazing my arms, voices overlapping in languages I don’t recognize.
My breath stutters.
My fingers tighten around Nunbi’s without me meaning to.
“Nunbi…” My voice comes out smaller than I expect.
She stops immediately.
Turns to me like nothing else exists.
“You okay?”
I try to answer honestly, but the truth is messy.
“I—I don’t know,” I say. “It’s… a lot.”
She nods once, already understanding.
“Then look at me,” she says, stepping closer, pulling my hand up between us.
“For now, just look at me.”
So I do.
Her coat.
Her breath fogging faintly in the cold.
The way the lights catch in her eyes.
Everything else blurs.
Only she stays sharp.
“You’re doing great,” she murmurs. “Just follow me.”
I follow.
Every step.
Every breath.
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The entrance to the Christmas market opens wider ahead of us.
Lights hang overhead like stars caught mid-fall. Garlands twist around wooden beams. Snowflake ornaments sway gently in the wind, clinking softly when they touch.
My chest tightens with something unfamiliar.
Not fear.
Something closer to awe—
cautious wonder, fragile and overwhelming at the same time.
Nunbi doesn’t look at the decorations.
She watches me.
“What do you think?” she asks quietly.
I search for the right words.
“It’s… a lot,” I say again, then pause.
“But also… beautiful.”
Her smile shifts—softening, proud in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You’re seeing Christmas for the first time,” she whispers.
“You don’t have to rush.”
I don’t say it out loud, but the thought forms clearly in my mind:
I’m glad I’m seeing it with you.
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The crowd thickens as we move deeper into the market.
People brush past us more often now. Laughter spills from groups huddled around food stalls. Music grows louder, then softer, then louder again as we weave through.
My hand tightens around hers again.
This time, she doesn’t comment.
Instead, she loops her arm around mine, pulling me closer until her shoulder rests beneath my arm, grounding me without making it obvious.
“Baby,” she mutters, low enough that only I can hear,
“let people look. I don’t care. Just stay with me.”
I glance down at her.
At this small human who keeps adjusting her entire world around my fragility without making me feel weak.
“How do you know exactly what I need?” I ask quietly.
She smiles against my shoulder.
“Because I’m paying attention.”
That answer settles deep.
Heavy.
Certain.
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We stop at a pastry stall.
Steam curls into the cold air, carrying a warm, sweet scent that hits me all at once.
Too sweet.
Too strong.
My vision pulses.
The lights sharpen painfully. Sounds overlap until they lose meaning. My breath shortens, then stutters.
The ground feels unstable beneath my feet.
“Baby—”
Nunbi catches it instantly.
Her fingers curl into my coat, firm and grounding.
“Lumen,” she says. “Look at me.”
I try.
But the lights flare again.
“I can’t—” My voice cracks.
“I don’t know how to handle this…”
“Come here,” she breathes.
She pulls me down just enough that our foreheads touch.
The world slows.
Her hands are warm on my cheeks.
Her breath brushes my lips.
Her heartbeat is steady even in the chaos.
“Just me,” she whispers.
“Focus on just me. I’ve got you.”
I breathe.
One shaky inhale.
One shaky exhale.
The noise dulls. The lights soften. My body stops shaking.
“You’re doing amazing,” she murmurs.
“No I’m not.”
“You’re human for two days,” she says, brushing my hair back gently.
“You’re allowed to take your time.”
Something inside me loosens painfully.
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She buys something warm and sweet—hands it to me carefully.
I take a bite.
The taste explodes across my senses.
Sweet.
Soft.
Comforting.
Pleasure blooms so suddenly I freeze.
“This is…” I grip her sleeve, needing the anchor.
“…incredible.”
She bursts into laughter.
“You’re going to ruin me,” she groans.
“You react like everything is a life-changing experience.”
She feeds me another bite anyway.
And watches me like she’s memorizing something important.
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Then—
beneath the music, beneath the laughter—
a tone cuts through.
Quiet.
Cold.
Mechanical.
My body locks.
SYSTEM SIGNAL: LOW-LEVEL TRACE ACTIVE
It pulses along my nerves, faint but unmistakable.
“Baby?” Nunbi’s voice drops instantly.
“What is it?”
I lean close, barely daring to breathe.
“…They’re looking for me.”
Her hand clamps around mine.
“How close?”
“Not here,” I whisper.
“But close enough to feel it.”
Her expression sharpens—fear and fire mixing together.
“Stay with me,” she says.
“We’re going—”
She stops herself.
Looks around.
Recalculates.
And instead of pulling me toward home—
She tightens her grip and changes direction.
And I follow.
Because right now, she is the only place that feels safe.
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End of Chapter 13
- Writer
