Chapter 7 — The Rule of Romance
806 Words
Arielle followed Mrs. Hale down the hallway like someone walking toward their own fate. Peppermint scones, she’d said. Interesting news, she’d said.
But all Arielle could think about was the red envelope pressed against her ribs, still warm from the last message Santa revealed:
Magic knows before the heart does.
Mrs. Hale nudged open her apartment door with her hip, letting out a puff of warm, cinnamon-scented air. “Come in, sweet girl. Sit. Eat something. You look like you’ve seen the Christmas ghost.”
Arielle didn’t sit. She hovered by the counter, clutching the envelope.
“Mrs. Hale… do you know what this really is? The letter? The magic?”
The older woman smiled—too knowingly, too gently. “Magic always arrives for those who need it most.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Mrs. Hale placed the scones on the table. “Then ask the right question.”
Arielle hesitated, then whispered, “Why me?”
“Because your heart is soft in a world that rewards hardness,” Mrs. Hale said simply. “And because love has been chasing you for longer than you realize.”
Arielle blinked. “Love? I don’t even have a… a crush.”
“Don’t you?”
Arielle’s face heated. “No! I barely know Noah.”
Mrs. Hale sipped her tea, hiding her grin behind the steam. “Magic disagrees.”
Arielle groaned. “This is insane.”
As if summoned by her frustration, the red envelope pulsed against her chest—soft but insistent.
Mrs. Hale raised a brow. “Ah. It’s ready.”
“Ready for what?” Arielle whispered.
“For you to learn the rule.”
Arielle froze. “What rule?”
Mrs. Hale nodded at the envelope. “Read it.”
Her fingers trembled as she slid the card out. The gold ink began to shift—slow at first, then swirling into new letters that glowed brighter than any message before.
Arielle braced herself.
---
THE RULE OF ROMANCE
Your magic awakens with love.
But if love grows and you deny it—
your luck will unravel twice as fast.
---
Arielle’s breath punched out of her.
The words continued:
---
The blessing becomes a curse
when the heart refuses its own truth.
---
Arielle felt her stomach drop. “No… no, no. That’s not fair.”
More ink shimmered:
---
Magic and love are bound.
Choose love, gain luck.
Reject love, lose everything.
---
Her hands shook so violently she almost dropped the card.
Mrs. Hale reached out and steadied her wrist. “Arielle, breathe.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “This magic—it comes with conditions? With risks?”
“All gifts do.”
“This isn’t a gift,” Arielle said, voice cracking. “It’s a trap. If I fall in love and admit it, my life changes. But if I fall in love and don’t admit it, everything collapses? How is that fair?”
Mrs. Hale touched her cheek gently. “Because love demands honesty. Even from the unlucky.”
Arielle let out a shaky laugh. “I’m barely surviving the holidays. And now I have to worry about falling in love properly or else the universe punishes me?”
Mrs. Hale’s smile softened. “Magic doesn’t punish. It reminds.”
“Reminds what?”
“That even the most unlucky hearts can be the bravest when it comes to love.”
Arielle swallowed hard.
Her mind flashed again to Noah Frost—warm eyes, gentle smile, steady lights above his doorway that didn’t glitch around her for the first time in her life.
No.
No, absolutely not.
She couldn’t let magic push her toward someone she barely knew.
As if hearing her thoughts, the final words appeared:
---
Love will come.
Your only task is not to run from it.
---
Arielle’s breath trembled.
She looked at Mrs. Hale. “What if I don’t want to fall in love?”
Mrs. Hale squeezed her hand. “Then your heart will decide anyway.”
Arielle felt faint. “And if it chooses the wrong person?”
Mrs. Hale’s eyes softened with something ancient and sad and wise.
“Magic doesn’t choose wrong, darling. People do.”
Arielle pressed a hand to her racing heart, suddenly terrified of the future—terrified of love, terrified of magic, terrified of the rule binding her life now.
Outside the window, a soft wind blew.
And down the street, in the quiet warmth of Frost & Fiction Bookstore, Noah Frost paused mid-shelving. The snow globe on his counter glowed again.
Soft.
Warm.
Calling.
He frowned, unaware that the same glow pulsed faintly in the envelope Arielle held against her chest.
Magic was stirring.
Love was waking.
And neither of them had a say in it anymore.
- Writer
