The Eve Before

Chapter 10

Snow flurried gently across the village square as laughter echoed from the children. Clara stood near the old well, tying ribbons to a wooden sled while little hands helped her clumsily. The scent of pine, cold air, and fresh bread swirled together, giving the whole place a kind of magic Evelyn couldn’t name.

She stood holding a box of ornaments—wooden stars, hand-painted bells, and small wreaths—watching as everyone bustled about.

“You’re not going to let the kids do all the work, are you?” Jacob asked, coming up beside her.

His voice was light, teasing, but there was something quiet behind it too. Evelyn glanced at him, caught off guard by how close he was standing. “I was waiting for the perfect moment to begin,” she said, brushing hair from her face.

He smirked. “Is this your strategy for decorating? Stare at the tree long enough, and it’ll dress itself?”

She laughed, a short, surprised sound. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure out where I fit in here.”

Jacob's smile faded slightly. “Anywhere you want,” he said, more serious now. “Clara thinks you’re a gift to the village."

A gust of wind tugged at her scarf, and without thinking, Jacob reached out and adjusted it—fingers brushing the edge of her coat. She froze. He did too, just for a second.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling back. “Habit. I used to do that for my sister. She hated the cold.”

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, suddenly unsure where to look.

Behind them, Clara called out instructions about the garlands. The children raced to the pine tree with arms full of handmade decorations. Evelyn exhaled, grateful for the distraction, and stepped forward, pulling a bell from the box.

Jacob followed her. “You pick. I’ll lift you if you can’t reach.”

She raised a brow, "What if I fall?"

"Then I'll catch you" Jacob answered with a crooked grin.

Evelyn smiled faintly, The crisp winter air nipped at her cheeks, but for a moment, she forgot the cold.

Jacob stepped closer, his presence steady beside her. His hand brushed hers as he reached to hang a golden ornament on a low branch, and Evelyn’s breath caught—not from the chill, but from the unexpected warmth.

“Careful,” Jacob murmured, eyes briefly meeting hers. There was something hesitant in that glance, like he was measuring her, trying to understand where she stood.

She looked away, tugging at the edge of her coat, the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at her lips. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Good to know.” His grin was soft, genuine.

Behind them, Clara called out again, her voice ringing with laughter as she helped the children untangle strings of lights. Evelyn watched the lively scene—small hands clumsily trying to drape garlands, cheeks rosy from the cold. It was a simple joy, but one Evelyn hadn’t felt in a long time.

Just then, a woman approached from the edge of the square, wrapped in a thick shawl dusted with snow. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd until they settled on Jacob. A flicker of recognition passed between them.

“Jacob,” the woman called softly, but firmly. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

Jacob’s smile faltered, and he glanced at Evelyn, a subtle tension settling between them.

“Evelyn,” he said, his voice steady but cautious. “This is Mrs. Hawthorne. She’s... well, she's like family."

Mrs. Hawthorne nodded, her gaze flicking to Evelyn with a polite curiosity before settling back on Jacob. “The town’s been abuzz with preparations, hasn’t it? Hope you're liking it so far?”

Evelyn offered a small nod, unsure how to respond.

As Mrs. Hawthorne stepped away to greet other villagers, Jacob exhaled softly. “Sorry about that. She’s the Market chief, and a bit... intense.”

Evelyn chuckled quietly. “Good to know who’s running the show.”

Their eyes met again, this time lingering just a little longer. Neither moved to look away.

He smiled, the warmth between them growing like the glow of the lanterns around the square.

Evelyn reached up, stretching on her toes to hang the silver bell. Her fingers brushed the branch, but it wobbled, slipping from her grasp.

A strong arm steadied her waist.

She gasped, glancing over her shoulder. Jacob was closer than she thought, one hand lightly on her back, the other casually holding her coat to balance her. “Careful,” he said softly. “Told you I’d catch you.”

Evelyn’s heart thudded—whether from the stumble or the way his voice dipped, she couldn’t tell.

She stepped down quickly. “I don’t need catching,” she said, brushing off her coat. “I manage fine on my own.”

He raised a brow. “Didn’t say you can't..but sometimes you have to let others do it, that way, you build trust."

That line hit something deeper than it should have. She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned toward the crate of ornaments, rummaging with more force than necessary.

Jacob crouched beside her, picking up a hand-painted dove. “My mother made this one,” he murmured. “Said peace wasn’t just quiet. It was choosing calm when everything inside you screamed.”

She looked at him, surprised. There was a story behind those words. A wound, maybe. But he didn’t elaborate.

Evelyn reached for the ornament. Their fingers touched.

Both froze.

Neither moved.

Then, just as slowly, they both pulled away.

She cleared her throat. “It’s cold. We should—get this over with.”

Jacob gave a small nod but didn’t take his eyes off her. “Right. Let’s decorate.”

But Evelyn could feel it now—like the air between them had shifted. Warmer, heavier.

And she hated how much she didn’t hate it.