Underneath the Moonlight

2: Fragile Bonds

The office finally quiets down around mid-afternoon. The chaos of Mr. Everett’s impossible demands has faded like a bad dream, leaving only the low hum of computers and the occasional chatter of coworkers. It looks like there won’t be any overtime for the time being.

Hopefully.

For today, at least, because I don’t know what Mr. Everett will bring tomorrow.

My fingers hover over my phone as I stare at Kade’s name on the screen.

Why does it feel so heavy to send a single text? We’ve been together for three years. It should be easy, right? This shouldn’t be hard for me.

I tap the keyboard and delete the message three times before finally typing:

“Can we meet tonight? I want to talk. I think we should try to fix things before christmas.”

I hit send and almost drop the phone from nerves. He sent me the same message. A part of me sighs a relief he’s thinking about me. Of course, he responds almost instantly (this time):

“I’ll pick you up at 7. Same place as last time?”

I bite my lip, heart hammering. The ‘same place as last time’—the little café where everything started to feel normal again—feels like a promise and a threat all at once. I swallow a nervous laugh and send back a simple:

“Yes. I want to talk to you too….See you then.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a haze. I can barely focus on filing reports or answering emails. Kade has every right to be upset. We’ve fought more times than I can count, mostly because of my work. I cancel plans last minute, I come home late, I’m exhausted from a job I can’t afford to slack on. I’ve only been working here for eight months, and Mr. Everett expects miracles at all hours. There’s no way around it. Absolutely not. I can’t help it, and yet he sometimes makes me feel like I’m choosing my job over him.

Finally, the clock ticks to 5:30. I pack my bag, my stomach twisting into a nervous knot. I change into my warm coat, scarf, and gloves, bundling myself against the sharp winter air. The city streets are beautiful tonight, dusted in snow that reflects the golden glow of street lamps. Normally, this would make me happy. Normally, I would pause, breathe, and feel a little of the magic that makes winter my favorite season.

Tonight, though… I feel tense, almost frozen inside, even though the cold bites at my cheeks.

I arrive at the cafe a little early. Of course, the place is bustling, as always, but I feel my shoulders relax slightly the moment I see him. The handsome barista is on his shift again, moving between customers with effortless skill. And just like always, he remembers my order before I even reach the counter. I smile faintly at him, though my mind is elsewhere.

“Caramel latte?” he asks, setting it down with a faint grin.

“Thanks,” I murmur, taking it and walking to my usual seat by the window. I watch the snow swirl outside, letting the warmth seep into my hands and, hopefully, into my nerves.

My thoughts keep drifting to Kade. To the fight. To all the nights he’s disappointed in me for canceling plans or going home late. I know he doesn’t understand how impossible it is to say no to Mr. Everett. I know it’s not personal. But that doesn’t stop the sting from building inside me. I clutch my cup, the caramel sweetness give me a small comfort.

When 7 o’clock arrives, my phone buzzes. I glance down: a text from Kade.

“Outside. Waiting.”

I set my coffee down, smooth my scarf, and step into the snowy night. The crunch of snow under my boots sounds impossibly loud in the quiet street. And there he is—standing under the glow of a street lamp, his hands in his coat pockets, hair slightly messy from the cold.

He smiles, and for a moment, the fights, the hurt, the miscommunications—all of it—seems miles away. I feel the familiar flutter in my chest, the mix of hope and fear that makes me both want to run into his arms and hold myself back.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey,” I reply, shivering a little—not just from the cold.

We walk together slowly through the quiet streets. The snow continues to fall, soft and magical, and the lights strung along the storefronts twinkle like tiny stars. I can’t help but wish this moment could freeze in time—the city hushed, the snow untouched, him walking beside me as though nothing has ever hurt.

We find a bench outside a small park. He sits down first and gestures for me to join him. I do, though I hesitate slightly. He’s so close, so normal, and yet the memory of all the fights lingers, an invisible wall between us.

“I…” he starts, voice hesitant. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. For all the fights. I know it’s because you’re busy at work, but I hate feeling like I’m always competing with your job.”

I swallow hard, trying not to let my voice tremble. “I know, Kade. I hate canceling plans. I hate disappointing you. But I can’t help it—I’ve only been working here eight months. Mr. Everett expects me to drop everything at a moment’s notice. I don’t have a choice sometimes.”

He reaches out, brushing snowflakes from my coat. His hand lingers near mine. “I know. I just… I hate that it makes us fight. I don’t want to lose you over something you can’t control.”

I close my eyes for a second, letting the moment wash over me. My heart aches with longing and fear—longing because I love him, fear because I’m not sure we can trust the other fully yet.

“I want that too,” I whisper. “I want… a special Christmas. Just us. No fights. No misunderstandings. Just…” I glance at him, and a small, genuine smile escapes me. “…just this.”

He smiles back, relief softening his features. “Just this,” he agrees.

The snow continues to fall around us, soft and serene. For the first time today, I feel a little of the magic I usually associate with this season. Winter is my favorite, Christmas is my favorite, and right now, it feels like maybe, just maybe, this year could be different.

I don’t know that night will turn into a nightmare. I don’t know that the moment of warmth and hope is fleeting. I only know that I want this—to reconcile, to plan something special for Christmas, to hold onto the little spark of love we still share.

And for now, that has to be enough.