Snowbound with you

Moment between us

The morning arrived quietly, the kind that felt like it was holding its breath.

Emma woke before the alarm, staring at the ceiling as pale light crept through the curtains. Her body felt rested, but her mind was already running—replaying conversations, half-smiles, silences that had lasted a second too long. The holiday town outside was beginning to stir. Somewhere below, a door opened. Footsteps crossed stone. Life was moving forward whether she felt ready or not.

She sat up slowly and pressed her palm to her chest, grounding herself. Today mattered. Not because of a single decision, but because everything she’d been avoiding had finally reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

She dressed simply, choosing comfort over appearance, though she still took a moment to smooth her hair and check her reflection. The woman looking back at her seemed stronger than the one who had arrived weeks ago—less fragile, more aware. But strength didn’t mean certainty.

Downstairs, the hotel lobby smelled faintly of coffee and citrus. Morning light spilled across the tiled floor. Emma paused when she saw him.

Liam stood near the window, phone in hand, his posture relaxed but alert, as if he were waiting for something he couldn’t quite name. He looked up, and for a moment neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, layered with things unsaid.

“Good morning,” he said finally, his voice soft.

“Morning,” Emma replied.

They walked together toward the café without touching, yet close enough that she could feel his presence beside her, steady and warm. It struck her how natural it felt now, how unfamiliar the idea of distance had become.

They ordered coffee and sat near the window. Outside, tourists drifted past, couples laughing, families pointing at maps. A holiday world—bright, fleeting, unreal.

“You didn’t sleep well,” Liam said after a moment.

Emma smiled faintly. “I slept. Just… thought too much.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than she’d said. “About today?”

“About everything,” she admitted.

He didn’t push. That was one of the things she appreciated most about him—his patience, the way he made space instead of demands.

Across the room, a familiar voice rose in laughter.

Emma stiffened before she even turned.

Noah.

He stood near the counter, talking animatedly with the barista, his presence filling the room the way it always did—effortless, magnetic, impossible to ignore. When his eyes met Emma’s, his smile softened, something unreadable flickering behind it.

“Well,” Liam murmured quietly, “that answers the question of whether today would be simple.”

Emma exhaled. “I was hoping for at least an hour.”

Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

Noah approached their table, hands in his pockets, expression open but careful. “Morning,” he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Emma said automatically, though the tension in her shoulders told another story.

There was a beat—three people aware of the shape they formed, the invisible lines pulling between them.

“I was heading out,” Noah added. “But I wanted to check in. There’s a festival tonight by the harbor. Music, lights. It’s… kind of special.”

Emma’s heart sank and lifted at the same time.

Liam glanced at her, not Noah. “That sounds nice.”

Noah noticed the look and smiled faintly. “You’re both welcome.”

Both.

The word lingered.

“Thanks,” Emma said. “I’ll think about it.”

Noah nodded, seeming to accept that it was all she could offer. “See you later, then.”

As he walked away, Emma stared into her coffee, watching the steam curl upward.

“You don’t have to explain,” Liam said gently.

“I know,” she replied. “But I want to. Just… not yet.”

They spent the morning apart, by unspoken agreement. Emma wandered through narrow streets, past shuttered shops and sunlit balconies, letting her thoughts unravel. She replayed moments with Noah—his intensity, the way he made her feel seen and challenged, how he carried both warmth and chaos in equal measure. Then Liam—steady, grounding, offering a future that felt safe but never dull.

She stopped by the water, sitting on a low stone wall. The sea stretched endlessly ahead, shimmering. Choice, she realized, wasn’t about right or wrong. It was about honesty—about who she was becoming, not who she had been.

By afternoon, clouds gathered, softening the heat. Emma returned to her room and changed, choosing a dress that felt like herself—not for anyone else. When evening came, she descended the stairs with a quiet resolve she hadn’t felt before.

Liam waited near the door. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

At the harbor, lights twinkled like stars fallen to earth. Music drifted through the air, laughter and movement blending into something almost magical. Noah found them near the edge of the crowd, his face lighting up when he saw Emma.

For a while, the three of them existed in the same space—talking, listening, watching the water glow with reflections. It was strange, beautiful, and unsustainable.

Later, as fireworks burst overhead, Emma stepped away, needing air. She stood alone at the railing, heart pounding, knowing the moment she’d been avoiding had arrived.

Footsteps approached behind her.

“Emma,” Noah said softly.

She turned.

This was the beginning—not of an ending, but of truth.

Emma didn’t answer right away. The fireworks cracked and bloomed above them, colors spilling across the sky and reflecting in Noah’s eyes. For a second, the world felt suspended—sound muted, time softened—leaving only the two of them standing at the edge of everything unspoken.

“I knew you’d come,” Noah said quietly, leaning against the railing beside her. He didn’t crowd her. He never did. His presence was a question, not a demand.

“I wasn’t sure I would,” Emma replied. “Not until the last minute.”

“That’s usually how the important things go,” he said with a small smile.

They watched the water together, shoulders almost touching. Emma could feel the pull—the familiar heat that came with him, the sense that anything was possible and dangerous all at once.

“You’re different tonight,” Noah continued. “Not distant. Just… decided.”

She swallowed. “I am.”

Behind them, laughter rose and fell, music weaving through the night. Somewhere in the crowd, she knew Liam was watching the fireworks too, giving her the space he always seemed to know she needed. The thought tightened her chest.

Noah turned to face her fully now. “I don’t want to compete,” he said. “But I need to know if what I feel is only mine.”

Emma’s breath caught. This was it—the moment she’d been circling for days, maybe longer.

“What you feel isn’t imaginary,” she said slowly. “You matter to me. More than I expected. More than I planned for.”

His jaw tightened slightly, hope flickering. “But?”

“But I’m learning something about myself,” Emma continued. “About what I need to survive, not just to feel alive.”

Noah studied her, reading between the lines. “And what is that?”

She hesitated, then spoke the truth she’d been holding back. “Consistency. Peace. Someone who stays even when the fire dies down.”

The fireworks faded, leaving smoke drifting across the dark sky. Noah nodded once, absorbing the weight of her words.

“You think I can’t be that,” he said—not accusing, just honest.

“I think you could,” Emma said gently. “But not without losing something important to yourself. And I don’t want to be the reason you change in ways you’ll resent.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he exhaled, a soft, rueful laugh escaping him. “You’ve always been braver than you realize.”

Footsteps approached.

Liam stopped a few feet away, sensing the gravity of the moment. He didn’t interrupt—just waited, eyes steady, offering presence without pressure.

Emma turned to him, her heart steady now, even as it ached. “Thank you,” she said to Noah. “For seeing me. For not making this ugly.”

Noah met Liam’s gaze, something like respect passing between them. “Take care of her,” he said quietly.

Liam nodded. “I will.”

As Noah walked away into the crowd, Emma felt a mix of grief and relief wash over her. Some connections weren’t meant to last forever—but they still mattered.

Liam stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

Emma slipped her hand into his, grounding herself in the warmth. “I will be. For the first time in a while, I’m not running from the truth.”

They stood together as the last of the smoke cleared, the harbor lights shimmering anew. The holiday would end soon. Life would resume its rhythm. But something inside Emma had shifted—quietly, irrevocably.

And in that moment between who she was and who she was becoming, she chose herself.