Chapter 5
1100 Words
Snow had thickened into something serious now. The kind that erased footsteps almost as soon as they were made. If Lia turned around, she doubted she’d see proof they’d even passed through.
She liked that thought more than she should.
Julian walked beside her, unhurried. Hands in his coat pockets. Shoulders relaxed in that irritating way of people who didn’t look like the world had ever shoved them.
She kicked a mound of snow into the street.
“Tell me you have a plan,” she said.
“I usually do.”
“Usually?” She glanced sideways. “That doesn’t sound comforting.”
“I wasn’t trying to comfort you.”
“Wow. Rude.”
A pause.
“There’s a hotel not far from here,” he added. “Small. Clean. No singing reindeer in the lobby.”
She let out a quiet snort. “You’ve done your research.”
“I like knowing where I’ll sleep.”
Must be nice, she almost said.
“Lead the way, then,” she said instead
They walked another block before she noticed something.
He never asked where she came from.
Never asked why she was traveling alone.
Never asked anything people usually asked.
It should’ve felt respectful.
Instead… it made her itch.
“You always this quiet?” she said.
“Only when talking would make things worse.”
“Oh, so you do judge.”
“I observe.”
“That’s just judging in a turtleneck.”
That earned a real smile. Brief. Gone quickly.
A group stumbled past them laughing, half-drunk on something festive. One girl nearly slipped; her boyfriend caught her, both of them dissolving into louder laughter.
Lia watched them until they disappeared.
“People act like December fixes things,” she muttered.
Julian adjusted his scarf. “People act like a lot of things fix them.”
She studied him.
There was something about the way he spoke. Careful, but not fragile. Like every sentence had already been edited in his head.
“What?” he asked without looking at her.
“You talk like someone who reads the last page of a book first.”
He considered that.
“…I like knowing what I’m walking into.”
“Doesn’t that ruin it?”
“Sometimes it prevents worse things.”
She frowned slightly but didn’t push. Something in his tone suggested the subject had edges.
They reached a crosswalk. The signal blinked red.
Cold crept through the soles of her boots now. Her toes were starting to numb.
Annoying.
She bounced lightly on her heels to bring them back to life.
Julian noticed.
Without a word, he stepped slightly closer to block the wind.
Not touching.
Just… there.
Lia pretended not to register it.
“Don’t make this weird,” she said.
“I’m standing.”
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m windproofing.”
She fought a smile and lost halfway.
The light changed.
They crossed.
A carriage rolled past behind them, bells soft, horse snorting little clouds into the air. Tourists wrapped in blankets leaned into each other for photos.
Lia watched it go.
“Looks uncomfortable,” she said.
Julian glanced back. “You hate romance that much?”
“Please,” she scoffed. “That’s not romance. That’s hypothermia with branding.”
Another ghost of a smile.
“You’re younger than you pretend to be,” he said mildly.
Her head snapped toward him.
“Excuse me?”
“You look surprised every time something disappoints you.”
“That is not an age thing.”
“It usually is.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Careful.”
“Always.”
She paused.
Then she grinned suddenly, sharp and fox-like.
“Alright, Grandpa. Since you’re clearly ancient and wise, how old are you?”
“Forty-two.”
She blinked before she could stop herself.
He caught it.
Regret pricked immediately but she covered it fast with a shrug.
“Cool,” she said. “Very… forty-two of you.”
He let the obvious math sit between them without reaching for it.
Didn’t call her out.
Didn’t rescue her either.
Respect disguised as indifference.
Dangerous man.
They stopped in front of a narrow hotel wedged between a bookstore and a closed florist. Warm light spilled through the windows.
For a second, neither moved toward the door.
Snow gathered on Lia’s hair, melting along her collar.
Julian spoke without looking at her.
“You don’t have to trust me,” he said. “Just the lock on the door.”
She studied his profile.
Stillness lived in that face. Not emptiness. Control.
People like him didn’t spill.
People like him leaked… maybe once a year.
Good, she thought.
Messy people and contained people should never get too close.
It complicated things.
She pushed the door open.
Warmth hit immediately. Her shoulders dropped a fraction.
The receptionist smiled too brightly.
“Last rooms for the season,” she chirped. “Holiday rush.”
Julian nodded. “Two rooms.”
Lia looked at him.
Just for half a second.
Something unreadable passed through her chest. Relief, maybe.
Or something she refused to name.
While he signed the register, she glanced down.
Julian Hale.
The name suited him.
Steady. Clean lines.
Not the name of a man who explained himself.
He slid the pen back.
Then the receptionist turned to her.
“Name?”
For the smallest moment…
she hesitated.
“Aaliyah Kareem,” she said.
The full name landed differently. Formal. Weighted.
Julian heard it.
Didn’t react.
But something in the air shifted anyway.
Keys slid across the counter.
Two rooms.
Side by side.
The elevator groaned upward with them inside it, slow enough to make the silence noticeable.
Lia watched the numbers blink.
“You always help stranded strangers?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why me?”
Julian thought about it longer than the question deserved.
“You looked like you would’ve kept walking even if you didn’t know where you were going.” he finally responded.
She held his gaze.
“…and that’s bad?”
“It’s lonely.”
The elevator dinged.
Doors opened.
Hallway quiet. Carpet thick. Lights low.
He handed her a key.
Their fingers almost touched.
Didn’t.
“Goodnight, Lia,” he said.
Not Aaliyah.
Lia stood there a second after he disappeared into his room.
Listening to the soft click of his lock.
Then she entered hers.
Closed the door.
Leaned against it.
And only then did she notice.
For the first time in months…
her mind wasn’t screaming.
Which terrified her more than the noise ever had.
- Writer
