Chapter 5: A Glimpse into the Past
841 Words
Nicholas avoided Alina the next day.
It wasn’t a conscious decision at first. He was simply busier than usual—checking toy quotas, ensuring the reindeer were on their strict training schedules, double-checking the sleigh’s modifications. But deep down, he knew the truth.
She had unsettled him.
That conversation by the frozen lake still echoed in his mind. The way she had looked at him—not with pity, not with curiosity, but with understanding. No one had ever understood him before. No one had ever looked beyond the cold exterior, beyond the arrogance and sharp words, to see something deeper.
And that was dangerous.
So he kept his distance.
But she didn’t.
That evening, as the elves were finishing up their shift, Nicholas found himself pacing near his office window, watching the snowfall outside.
The door creaked open. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
“You’re avoiding me,” Alina said.
Nicholas scoffed. “I have more important things to do than—”
“—than deal with someone who saw a c***k in your perfect walls?”
He turned sharply, his jaw clenched. “I don’t have walls.”
Alina just gave him a look. The kind of look that made it clear she saw right through him.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want?”
“To understand something.” She leaned against the doorframe. “You said you hate the cold. But I think it’s more than that.”
Nicholas didn’t answer.
She studied him for a long moment, as if she were piecing something together. Then, softly, she asked, “Was it always like this for you?”
The question struck something deep. A buried memory.
A small boy, wrapped in blankets by the fireplace, shivering despite the warmth. The sound of laughter outside—children playing in the snow. But he never joined them. He never could.
He had been different from the start.
A child born with magic, but magic that bound him rather than freed him.
Nicholas shook off the memory and scowled. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Alina didn’t push. She simply nodded, as if she had expected that answer. But there was something in her expression—recognition.
And then, as if the moment had never happened, she straightened and sighed.
“Well, if you’re done brooding, I could use some help.”
Nicholas blinked. “Help?”
“Yes. You know, that thing people do when they’re not too busy being self-important.” She smirked. “The elves need to clear the toy storage, and since you technically run this place, you should probably make yourself useful.”
Nicholas scoffed. “I don’t do storage work.”
“Ah, so you’re just here to bark orders and look intimidating?”
“Exactly.”
Alina chuckled and turned to leave. “Fine. Guess I’ll just tell everyone Santa’s too delicate to lift a few boxes.”
Nicholas glared. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing.” She smirked over her shoulder. “Enjoy your brooding, Your Highness.”
And just like that, she was gone.
Nicholas stared after her, torn between irritation and something else—something that almost felt like amusement.
He hated her.
Except… he didn’t.
Not at all.
That night, long after the elves had gone to bed, Nicholas walked past the storage room. He didn’t know what made him stop. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was her.
The door was slightly open, candlelight flickering inside.
Peeking in, he saw Alina alone, lifting a heavy wooden crate onto a shelf. She winced as she moved, her breath hitching slightly.
Nicholas frowned.
He stepped inside without thinking. “You’re injured.”
Alina jumped slightly and turned to face him, quickly masking whatever pain she was feeling. “It’s nothing.”
He didn’t believe her.
Without a word, he strode over and took the next crate from her hands, setting it on the shelf with ease.
Alina crossed her arms. “Oh, so now you decide to help?”
“You looked pathetic trying to do it alone.”
She snorted. “Charming.”
Nicholas hesitated, then glanced at her again. “You’re not telling me something.”
Alina’s expression shifted, just for a second. A flicker of something old, something buried.
And then she smiled—too easily. “There are a lot of things I don’t tell people, Nicholas.”
That, for some reason, made his chest tighten.
He should have let it go. He should have walked away.
But instead, he found himself saying, “Me too.”
Alina met his gaze, her teasing demeanor fading slightly.
For the first time, there was no challenge in her eyes. No stubbornness. Just quiet understanding.
They didn’t speak again. They just worked—side by side, in silence.
And for the first time in a very long time, Nicholas didn’t mind the company.
- Writer
