chapter 14. Luck Shift 2 — Lights Don’t Explode
1325 Words
The holiday market glowed brighter as the evening deepened, the sky a deep velvety blue dusted with slow-falling snow. Arielle walked beside Noah, still giggling every time she remembered the chocolate fountain fiasco. Noah’s coat had survived, more or less. His dignity? Questionable.
But he wore that melted-chocolate streak like a badge of honor.
“You could’ve warned me,” he muttered for the seventh time, rubbing at a stubborn cocoa stain on his sleeve.
“I did warn you,” Arielle said, sipping her warm tea proudly. “I said I attract disaster.”
“You should’ve been more specific,” he replied dryly. “I expected slipping on ice, not being baptized by chocolate.”
“Oh please,” she snorted. “You look delicious.”
Noah stopped walking.
Arielle froze.
“…I mean!” she squeaked. “I mean—not like that! Not that I—You’re not—well, you ARE, but—oh my God help me.”
He blinked.
Then a small, quiet, almost shy smile pulled at his lips.
“Arielle,” he said slowly, “are you… flustered?”
“No,” she lied, tugging her hat lower. “I’m… uh… overheated. From the tea.”
“It’s lukewarm.”
“Shut up.”
Noah chuckled softly as they turned down the next row of glittering stalls, the Christmas lights overhead sparkling like tiny diamonds above the crowd. Families bustled around them, children dragging parents toward sugar-coated treats, and couples holding gloved hands under mistletoe arches.
“Ugh,” Arielle muttered, watching two people kiss dramatically under one. “Mistletoe should be outlawed. It’s dangerous.”
Noah narrowed his eyes. “How is kissing dangerous?”
“It leads to feelings. Feelings lead to emotional ruin. Emotional ruin leads to me crying in a bathroom stall eating gingerbread crumbs.”
He stared at her.
She shrugged. “I’ve lived a life, Noah.”
He said nothing—but the smile tugging his lips again suggested he found her chaos… entertaining.
---
They followed the path until they reached an enormous archway wrapped in thousands of tiny twinkling lights that formed a shimmering tunnel. It stretched across the walkway like a glowing river suspended in the air.
Arielle paused, eyes widening. “Oh wow…”
The lights were breathtaking—warm gold, soft white, shimmering like something out of a fantasy.
She stepped under the arch slowly, as if afraid it would collapse the moment she breathed wrong. Noah followed closely behind her, watching her, not the lights.
Her hands hovered at her sides as she whispered, “Beautiful…”
“Yeah,” Noah murmured, his gaze still fixed on her. “It is.”
She didn’t hear him.
She was too busy panicking.
Because her luck had a very concerning pattern around electricity.
“And this,” she whispered nervously, “is where the lights explode.”
Noah’s eyebrow lifted. “Why would they explode?”
“They just do. Every time I’m near something electric, something pops. Sizzles. Smokes. Once, I walked under a streetlamp and it literally detonated like a Firecracker of Doom.”
“Firecracker of Doom?” he echoed.
“It’s a medical condition.”
“It’s not.”
“It could be.”
Noah sighed. “Arielle, nothing is going to explode.”
“The universe hates me,” she reminded him.
“Not tonight,” he said simply.
She didn’t believe him.
Her track record was… impressive.
She walked forward cautiously, like someone approaching a bomb. Her hands hovered protectively over her head.
“Just don’t panic,” Noah said calmly behind her. “Nothing bad is going to—”
POP.
Arielle screamed.
Noah grabbed her arm.
A couple nearby jumped.
A baby cried.
Arielle squeezed her eyes shut. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I WAS RIGHT! THE LIGHTS ARE EXPLODING! WE’RE GOING TO DIE BRIGHTLY AND SEASONALLY!”
Noah looked up.
One single bulb had popped.
One.
A tiny one.
Barely.
“It’s… just a burnt-out bulb,” Noah deadpanned.
Arielle opened one eye cautiously. “Oh.”
She looked ridiculous—hands over her head, tea sloshing dangerously, hat tilted sideways.
Noah’s mouth twitched. “Are you done panicking?”
“No.”
“Do you want to be?”
“…Yes.”
He walked ahead a little, glanced around to make sure the path was completely clear, then turned back to her.
“Come here.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because,” he said patiently, “you’re panicking like a squirrel in traffic. Come here.”
She approached like someone expecting to be scolded.
Instead—
Noah reached out, took both of her gloved hands gently in his.
Arielle froze.
Her heart forgot how to beat entirely.
Noah held her hands loosely, as if testing whether she’d pull away.
“Look up,” he said softly.
She did.
The lights glowed around them—warm, steady, stunning. Not flickering. Not sizzling. Not threatening to explode like they always did around her.
No chaos.
No electric popping.
No sparks.
Just soft, beautiful light.
“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“Because tonight,” his thumb brushed her knuckle gently, “your luck is changing.”
A soft warmth shimmered in the air around her.
She didn’t see it.
Noah did.
A faint gold glow flickered above her head like a tiny halo. Not bright enough for the crowd to notice, but enough for him to watch in awe.
Arielle felt a wave of heat wash over her chest—not unpleasant, but terrifying in its comfort.
The lights didn’t explode.
They grew brighter.
Stronger.
More beautiful.
A miracle.
Arielle stared around in disbelief. “I… I don’t understand.”
Noah lowered her hands carefully but didn’t let them go.
“You don’t have to understand,” he murmured. “Just trust it.”
“I don’t trust things,” she whispered.
“Trust me then.”
Her breath caught.
She looked up at him—really looked—and something inside her softened, slowly, carefully, like snow melting under sunlight.
“But this is impossible,” she said shakily. “My luck doesn’t change.”
“It does tonight.”
“How do you know?”
His eyes softened, the chocolate streak still drying in his hair like a reminder of their chaotic night.
“Because I saw it,” he said simply. “I saw it with the ornament. With the snowball. With the latte. And now with the lights.”
He lifted a hand and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
Arielle forgot how to breathe.
“That’s miracle number three,” he whispered.
Her heart flipped.
Buzzed.
Glowed.
She swallowed, voice barely audible. “Noah… what’s happening to me?”
Noah stepped closer, his warmth enveloping her like a shield from the cold.
“Something magical,” he said softly. “Something you deserve.”
Arielle’s pulse thudded wildly.
She opened her mouth to speak—
WHOOSH.
The lights overhead burst into a breathtaking wave of shimmering gold, cascading down the tunnel like a waterfall.
Everyone around them gasped at the sudden brightness.
But not a single bulb exploded.
Not one.
Instead, the path lit up beautifully—like the world had decided, just for her, to shine.
Arielle whispered, trembling, “That… wasn’t normal.”
Noah smiled—slow, deep, secretive.
“No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
Arielle stared at the glowing lights, her heart hammering, her breath visible in the cold air.
Miracle number three.
Miracle number four.
She didn’t know what was happening.
But she knew one thing:
The world wasn’t trying to break her tonight.
It was protecting her.
Guiding her.
And all of it started the moment she ran into Noah.
Literally.
- Writer
