Chapter 13: The Storm of Doubt
1095 Words
Alina had made her decision.
She wasn’t going back.
The realization settled into her chest, heavier than she expected, but not in a bad way. It was final, unshakable. For the first time in her life, she had chosen herself.
But that didn’t mean the ghosts of her past disappeared.
They still lingered.
In the quiet hours of the night.
In the edges of her mind.
In the doubts that whispered, What if you’re making a mistake?
And worst of all, in the way Nicholas looked at her now—like she mattered.
Because that was terrifying in its own way.
She had never belonged anywhere.
And yet, Nicholas had told her she belonged here.
She wasn’t sure what to do with that.
Nicholas was losing his mind.
He had never been one to second-guess himself. He made decisions and stuck with them. That was who he was.
But ever since that night by the fire—ever since Alina chose to stay—he had felt…
Unstable.
Not in the usual way, not in the way that made him frustrated with incompetent elves or an inefficient system.
This was different.
It was her.
It was the fact that every time she walked into the room, he noticed. That every time she laughed, his chest tightened.
That every time she looked at him, he wanted to do something, say something, be something.
And Nicholas didn’t like feeling that way.
Because it meant she had power over him.
And Nicholas Claus had spent his entire life making sure no one had power over him.
For a few days, they danced around it.
They worked as usual, keeping the post-Christmas chaos under control. They spoke, they joked, they argued over logistics—just like before.
But something was different.
Because every conversation carried something unspoken beneath the surface.
A tension that neither of them addressed.
A question that neither of them asked.
Nicholas was the first to break.
It happened during a snowstorm.
A particularly nasty one had swept over the North Pole, forcing everyone inside. The elves were huddled around fires, drinking cider and telling stories to pass the time.
Nicholas, however, was restless.
And so was Alina.
She was near the window, watching the storm rage outside, lost in thought.
Nicholas watched her from across the room, scowling to himself.
He hated this.
Hated that he didn’t know how to act around her anymore.
Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright.”
Alina turned, raising an eyebrow. “Alright what?”
He exhaled sharply. “We need to talk.”
Alina blinked. “About?”
Nicholas clenched his jaw. “You know exactly what.”
Alina hesitated.
She did know.
But she also wasn’t sure she was ready for this conversation.
She looked at him carefully. “And what exactly do you want to talk about, Nicholas?”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You staying. Us.” His voice dropped slightly. “This.”
Alina’s breath caught.
Because she hadn’t expected him to say it.
She had expected him to keep avoiding it—just like she had been.
She swallowed. “Nicholas, I—”
“I don’t do this,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t… care about people. Not like this.”
Alina stared at him.
Because she had never seen him like this.
So frustrated. So uncertain.
So afraid.
“Nicholas,” she said softly, “I didn’t ask you to.”
His jaw tensed. “I know. That’s the problem.”
Alina frowned. “How is that a problem?”
“Because you shouldn’t matter to me.”
The words hung in the air, thick and heavy.
Nicholas immediately regretted saying them.
Because the moment they left his mouth, he saw it—the way her expression shifted.
Not hurt.
But guarded.
Like she was pulling herself back behind the walls she had spent years building.
And he hated that.
Alina let out a breath, shaking her head. “Then don’t let me matter, Nicholas.”
Her voice wasn’t bitter.
It wasn’t angry.
It was tired.
Because she had heard this before.
She had spent her whole life being someone’s burden, someone’s problem, someone’s inconvenience.
And she would never beg someone to want her again.
She turned to leave.
But before she could take a step, Nicholas grabbed her wrist.
Not hard.
Not like her father had, not like someone who wanted to hold her down.
Just enough.
Enough to stop her.
Enough to make her listen.
“Wait,” he said, voice rough.
She didn’t turn around. “Why?”
Nicholas swallowed hard.
Because he didn’t know what to say.
Because he was scared.
Because this wasn’t who he was supposed to be.
But when she finally turned to look at him, when he saw the way her eyes searched his—hesitant, unsure, waiting for him to give her a reason to stay in this moment—
Nicholas knew exactly what he wanted to say.
“I don’t want you to go.”
Alina’s breath hitched.
And Nicholas wasn’t done.
“I don’t care if this is new. If it’s terrifying. I don’t care if I’m bad at it. If I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.” His grip on her wrist softened, but he didn’t let go. “But I do know that I don’t want you walking away from me right now.”
Alina stared at him.
And for the first time, she saw something she had never seen in Nicholas Claus before.
Vulnerability.
He had spent his entire life being untouchable.
But now, for her, he had cracked open just enough to let her in.
And that meant everything.
Slowly, she turned to fully face him.
She searched his gaze, as if testing him, as if seeing if he was being honest.
And then, finally—
She nodded.
Nicholas released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Alina didn’t say anything.
She didn’t need to.
Because staying meant more than words ever could.
And as the snowstorm raged on outside, as the fire crackled in the corner of the room, they just stood there, inches apart.
Neither of them speaking.
Neither of them needing to.
Because for the first time, they weren’t running anymore.
- Writer
