13. Holiday Market Mishap
842 Words
Arielle was supposed to go straight home.
A normal person—someone who hadn’t almost become roadkill—would go home, take a hot shower, and maybe cry into a pillow.
But Arielle?
Nope.
She was standing in the middle of the Maple Ridge Holiday Market, clutching her new peppermint tea like it was emotional support.
“What are we doing here?” she muttered as Noah walked ahead of her between the glowing stalls.
He didn’t turn around. “You need a distraction.”
“Yes, but why is my distraction a place full of glitter, fire hazards, and children with pointy candy canes?”
“Because those are not lethal.”
“A child stabbed me with a candy cane once.”
Noah stopped walking. Slowly turned.
“…How?”
“I don’t know, Noah! It was sharpened! Like a prison shiv!”
He stared at her for a solid five seconds before muttering, “You are… unbelievable.”
“I try.”
---
The market shimmered under strings of golden lights. Vendors sold everything from gingerbread houses to handmade ornaments to suspiciously burnt hotdogs.
Families laughed, couples kissed under the mistletoe archway, and someone dressed as an elf yelled aggressively about discounted fudge.
Arielle sighed dreamily.
“It’s all so… festive.”
Noah glanced at her with a soft expression. “You like it.”
“Of course I do. I’m a walking holiday disaster, not a Grinch.”
“Good to know.”
They wandered into the crowd. For three minutes, Arielle felt calm.
Three minutes.
A record.
And then—
CHAOS.
A toddler launched a snowball that hit her directly in the face.
POOF.
Her peppermint tea flew out of her hand.
Her hat fell off.
Her dignity evaporated on the cold winter wind.
The toddler’s mother gasped. “Oh my gosh, sweetie! Say sorry to the pretty lady!”
Arielle blinked through snowflakes. “It’s—fine—totally fine—I love snow in my eyeballs. Very refreshing.”
Noah was biting his lip so hard trying not to laugh that it was almost an injury.
“Oh, just laugh,” she snapped.
He did. Loudly.
“Okay,” she groaned. “Humiliation level: holiday special.”
But then—
something strange happened.
The snowball that hit her?
It melted instantly.
Just… melted into warm water.
Noah’s face shifted. His eyes flicked to the faint shimmer floating around Arielle’s hair.
Arielle frowned. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason,” he said too quickly. “Let’s… keep walking.”
---
They approached a stall selling handmade ornaments. Arielle reached out to pick up a delicate glass reindeer.
Noah opened his mouth—
“Wait, don’t—”
CRASH.
The ornament slipped from her hand, fell, bounced off the corner of the table—
—and somehow landed perfectly in a soft basket of knitted scarves.
Not even a scratch.
Arielle stared. “What— how— that should’ve shattered into 47 pieces.”
“Fifty-three,” Noah corrected. “There were thin points.”
She glared. “Not helping.”
Noah looked around, scanning the air like he could see the magic.
“You’re lucky tonight,” he said quietly.
“I’m never lucky.”
“You are now.”
She swallowed.
Something flickered—tiny golden sparks—before disappearing.
“Noah…” she whispered. “Is this… another miracle?”
Before he could answer—
SPLAT.
A giant chocolate fountain at the next stall exploded like a sugary volcano.
Hot chocolate rained across the walkway.
People screamed.
Arielle braced herself, expecting to be drenched head-to-toe in molten cocoa like some tragic dessert-themed monster.
Instead?
Not a drop hit her.
Not. One. Drop.
But Noah?
Oh, Noah.
A perfect streak of chocolate dripped down his hair onto his coat.
Arielle stared.
He stared back.
She burst out laughing so hard she wheezed.
“Oh my—Noah! You—look like a—MOCHA MODEL—”
He wiped chocolate from his eyebrow. “I blame you.”
“How is this my fault?!”
“You redirected the universe’s chaos toward me.”
“That’s called sharing!”
The vendor ran up, apologizing profusely. “Sir! I—I’m so sorry! Let me clean—”
“No need,” Noah said calmly, though chocolate was sliding down his neck like a guilty waterfall. “Really. I’m fine.”
Arielle handed him a napkin, still giggling uncontrollably.
He took it.
Their fingers brushed.
A spark—warm, electric—jumped between them.
And above Arielle’s head, a faint golden glow shimmered.
Noah saw it.
Arielle didn’t.
She just looked at him and whispered, still smiling:
“Maybe my luck isn’t cursed anymore.”
Noah held her gaze, chocolate dripping from his coat, eyes warm and unreadable.
“Maybe,” he murmured,
“your luck just found the right person to stand next to.”
Her breath caught.
Somewhere, faint and magical, a bell chimed.
Another miracle.
- Writer
