Chapter 3
485 Words
The snow pressed against them like it had an agenda. Cold and uninvited, but honest. It clung to their hair, their coats, even the soles of their shoes. Lia stomped it off with a kind of fury that made Julian watch quietly, amused.
“You realize this is...what?—a city-wide frostbite waiting to happen?” he said. Voice low, calm, steady.
Lia threw a look at him that could’ve cut glass. “Thanks, Dr. Weather. I needed your approval.”
Julian smirked. That was a dangerous little thing she had. Sharp edges and laughter tangled together. He stayed silent, letting her fill the silence with noise.
They walked. No map. No plan. Just snow, lights, the faint smell of roasted chestnuts from a corner stall. The city hummed around them, unaware of the quiet collision happening in its midst.
“You don’t have to talk, you know,” Julian said after a few blocks.
“Really?” she snapped, then laughed at the sound of her own voice echoing too loudly. “You’re making it sound like a choice. I didn’t choose to be stuck in December hell with a stranger.”
He glanced at her sidewise, letting the corner of his mouth twitch. “I didn’t say it was your fault. Just… an observation.”
Lia looked up. Snowflakes settling on her lashes. “Observation? You call this observation?” She gestured at the chaos around them. Lights flickering, carols clanging, children squealing. “This is chaos, and you’re calling it observation?”
“I call it honesty,” he said quietly.
And just like that, the world softened. A little. Enough that she felt it. Enough that the tight knot in her chest loosened just a fraction.
Dangerous.
They found a bench overlooking a frozen canal. No one else was near. The snow muffled the city into a distant hum. Lia sat first, careful not to touch Julian. He hesitated before sitting, as if proximity was a test he wasn’t sure he wanted to pass.
“Tell me something real,” she said suddenly, almost as if daring him.
Julian looked at her, tilted his head. “Real?”
“Yes. Real,” she repeated. The word felt heavier than the snow.
He considered. Then nodded once.
“My mother loved winter.”
(beat)
“Hated the cold though. Never made sense.”
He stopped, swallowed, let the words settle in the space between them.
She didn’t speak immediately. She wanted to say something, anything, but nothing seemed right. So she just sat there, letting the snow land on her shoulders.
Finally, she said, “Funerals are a scam.” paused,
“And hospitals smell like lies.” she added.
The words came out soft, hesitant. Not a complaint. Not a plea. Just truth.
Julian didn’t reach for her. He didn’t offer platitudes. He just nodded slowly. Respectfully. And that was enough.
- Writer
