Chapter 12: The First Promise
1100 Words
Nicholas left.
Alina stood in the cold long after he disappeared into the shadows of the workshop, her breath curling in the icy air, her pulse still erratic from whatever had just happened.
Her past had been locked away for years.
She had chosen to forget it.
She had built something new, something strong, something hers.
And yet, with just one letter, with just a few lines of ink on parchment, all of it had come rushing back—the shame, the doubt, the lingering ache of never being wanted.
And then there was Nicholas.
The man who had once been nothing more than a brooding, self-centered ruler of Christmas had somehow become the only person who made her feel safe.
And that terrified her.
Because she had spent her entire life depending on no one but herself.
Alina didn’t go inside right away.
She needed time.
Time to think. Time to breathe.
But Nicholas’s words followed her, echoing in her mind.
“They don’t deserve you.”
“They don’t get to call you back just because it’s convenient for them.”
It wasn’t just what he had said—it was the way he had said it.
Like it mattered to him.
Like she mattered.
And she didn’t know what to do with that.
Nicholas, meanwhile, was pacing the main hall of the workshop, his frustration barely contained as Bernard explained the latest disaster.
“We have a situation with the Southern Hemisphere delivery route,” Bernard said, shuffling through a stack of reports. “A magical storm hit right over the Pacific. Half the sleighs got delayed, and we have a backlog of gifts that didn’t make it to their destinations in time.”
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose. “So fix it.”
“We’re working on it, but we need you to approve re-routing some of the deliveries through different magic corridors.”
Nicholas scowled, but he took the reports without another word, scanning the maps quickly. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. He had dealt with worse in the past.
But his mind wasn’t here.
It was outside, with her.
For the first time in years, Christmas didn’t feel like the most important thing happening in his life.
And that realization shook him to his core.
An hour later, he found her.
She was sitting near the large window in the common room, watching the snowfall, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
She didn’t look up when he walked in.
But he knew she knew he was there.
Nicholas hesitated, then cleared his throat. “You’re still up.”
Alina let out a quiet laugh. “You asked me to stay up, didn’t you?”
Nicholas’s chest tightened.
She had remembered.
He crossed the room and sat across from her, watching her carefully. She looked tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from something deeper—something that had been weighing on her for far too long.
“You shouldn’t go back,” he said, his voice quieter now.
Alina exhaled. “I know.”
She glanced at him then, her expression unreadable. “But why do you care?”
Nicholas didn’t know how to answer that.
He could have lied. Could have told her it was because he needed her here at the North Pole, because she was good at her job, because it was simply logical for her to stay.
But instead, what came out was the truth.
“Because I don’t want you to go.”
Alina’s breath hitched.
For a long time, she didn’t speak.
And then, she whispered, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
Nicholas clenched his fists. That wasn’t fair.
Not to her. Not to the girl she had once been, the one who had spent her life thinking she wasn’t worth holding onto.
And suddenly, for the first time, Nicholas hated her family.
Hated them for making her doubt herself.
Hated them for letting her go so easily.
He leaned forward, his voice low, steady. “Then listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once.”
Alina swallowed, her gaze locked onto his.
“You belong here,” he said. “Not with them. Here.”
Alina didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
And Nicholas wasn’t done.
“I don’t care what they said to you. I don’t care what they made you believe. You don’t owe them anything.” His voice was almost a growl now. “You owe yourself happiness. And if that means staying here, then stay.”
Alina let out a shaky breath. “Nicholas…”
But he wasn’t finished.
“If they want you back, it’s not because they suddenly love you,” he said. “It’s because they need something from you. And that is not the same thing.”
Alina knew that.
Of course, she knew that.
But hearing it from him?
That was different.
Because Nicholas Claus was a man who had never needed anyone. He had never let himself care about what other people did, about what other people wanted.
And yet, here he was, telling her to stay.
Telling her she belonged.
Alina swallowed past the lump in her throat. “And what if I did leave?”
Nicholas’s expression darkened. “You won’t.”
“But what if I did?” she pressed.
His jaw tightened. “Then I’d go after you.”
Alina’s heart stopped.
She stared at him, her breath catching in her throat, because he meant it.
There was no teasing in his voice, no arrogance, no casual charm.
Just honesty.
And that terrified her.
Because she had spent her whole life believing no one would ever come for her.
And now, here was Nicholas Claus—Nicholas, who didn’t care about anything but himself—telling her he would chase her down if she left.
Alina didn’t know what to do with that.
So instead, she just whispered, “Why?”
Nicholas exhaled slowly.
And then—
“Because I can’t lose you.”
Alina’s eyes burned.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she couldn’t.
Because if she spoke, she might cry, and she didn’t cry.
So instead, she did something else.
She reached out, fingers trembling, and took his hand in hers.
Nicholas stilled.
But he didn’t pull away.
And in that moment, Alina realized something.
Maybe, just maybe—
She had already chosen to stay.
- Writer
