Christmas Eve started quiet.
It was the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, like the world was holding its breath.
Evelyn woke up before sunrise. The house was dark and still, but her mind was racing. She stared at the ceiling, listening to Noah downstairs. A cupboard opened, a kettle filled—life moving on.
She got out of bed.
Today was important.
She went downstairs, drawn by the kitchen light. Noah was at the counter, sleeves up, hair wet from his shower. He looked up when he heard her.
“Morning,” he said quietly.
“Morning.”
They smiled, small smiles that meant more than they said.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Too many thoughts.”
He nodded. “Me too.”
The kettle whistled. Noah made two mugs of water, sliding one to her. She held it, enjoying the warmth.
“S
