Chapter 12: The Wish on the Tree
1042 Words
The Wishing Tree stood at the center of Misty Hollow’s village square, its branches heavy with twinkling lights and delicate paper snowflakes. Each snowflake bore a wish from a town sperson, written in secret and tied to the branches with ribbon.
Claire stood at the edge of the square, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets as she watched the townsfolk gather around the tree. Children giggled as they stretched on tiptoes to hang their wishes, while couples whispered to each other before tucking their notes into the branches.
“It’s a nice tradition,” Adrian said, appearing at her side.
Claire jumped slightly, glaring at him. “Do you always sneak up on people?”
“It’s part of my charm,” Adrian replied, grinning. “You planning to make a wish?”
Claire shrugged, her gaze fixed on the tree. “I don’t know. I haven’t done it since I was a kid.”
“Why not?” Adrian asked.
“Because it’s silly,” Claire said, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Let me guess,” Adrian teased. “You’re afraid your wish won’t come true?”
Claire glared at him, but there was no malice behind it. “What about you? Do you believe in all this holiday magic stuff?”
Adrian tilted his head, considering her question. “Maybe. Or maybe I just think it’s nice to hope for something.”
A small table near the tree held stacks of paper snowflakes and pens, along with a jar of glitter for those who wanted to add an extra touch of sparkle. Claire hesitated as Adrian grabbed a snowflake and pen, his movements casual but deliberate.
“You’re really doing it?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Why not?” Adrian replied, glancing at her. “What’s the harm in wishing?”
Claire rolled her eyes but stepped closer, picking up a snowflake.
“What are you going to write?” Adrian asked, his tone light but curious.
“That’s none of your business,” Claire said, sitting down at the table.
“Fair enough,” Adrian said, taking a seat across from her.
They worked in silence, the sound of laughter and music from the square filling the air around them. Claire frowned at the blank snowflake in her hands, her mind swirling with uncertainty.
*What do I even want?*
Finally, she pressed the pen to the paper, the words coming slowly: *I wish to find my place again.*
Claire finished tying her ribbon onto the snowflake when she noticed Adrian still writing, his expression unusually serious.
“Are you writing an essay?” she joked, trying to break the tension.
Adrian glanced up, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Just being thorough.”
“Right,” Claire said, standing and brushing snow from her coat. “Well, don’t take too long. The tree’s not going anywhere.”
Adrian chuckled softly but didn’t respond. His focus returned to his snowflake, the pen moving across the paper with purpose.
When he finally stood, his snowflake folded carefully in his hand, Claire raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not going to tell me what it says, are you?” she asked.
“Nope,” Adrian replied, tying his snowflake to the tree.
“Why not?”
“Because if I tell you, it won’t come true,” Adrian said, his tone teasing but his eyes betraying something deeper.
Claire narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t press him.
The crowd thinned as the evening wore on, the snowflakes on the tree shimmering in the glow of the holiday lights. Claire and Adrian walked through the square, their breath visible in the cold air.
“So,” Adrian began, shoving his hands in his pockets, “what’d you wish for?”
Claire smirked. “You know, for someone who won’t share his wish, you’re awfully nosy about mine.”
“Fair point,” Adrian said, grinning. “But come on, give me a hint.”
“Fine,” Claire said after a moment. “I wished for clarity.”
“Clarity?” Adrian repeated, tilting his head. “That’s pretty vague.”
“Good,” Claire said. “Vague wishes are harder to jinx.”
Adrian laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook. For now.”
They walked in silence for a while, the festive sounds of the square fading into the background.
“Do you think wishes ever really come true?” Claire asked softly.
Adrian glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “I think they can. But sometimes, you have to work for them.”
Claire nodded, his words lingering in her mind.
They stopped near the edge of the square, where a small group of carolers sang “O Holy Night” in perfect harmony. Claire wrapped her arms around herself, the chill of the evening seeping through her coat.
“You know,” Adrian said quietly, “you’re not as hard to figure out as you think.”
Claire turned to him, her brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Adrian shrugged, his smile faint but genuine. “You act like you’ve got it all together, but deep down, you’re still trying to find your footing.”
Claire frowned, his words hitting closer to home than she wanted to admit. “And what about you? What are you hiding behind all that charm?”
Adrian hesitated, his gaze drifting to the tree. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
“Maybe?” Claire echoed, narrowing her eyes.
Adrian met her gaze, the teasing spark in his eyes replaced by something softer. “Yeah. Maybe.”
When they returned to the inn, the fire in the lobby was still crackling, casting a warm glow over the room. Claire paused near the staircase, unsure what to say.
“Goodnight, Claire,” Adrian said, his voice low.
“Goodnight,” she replied, watching as he disappeared down the hall.
As she climbed the stairs to her room, Claire couldn’t stop thinking about his wish and the way his walls seemed to slip, if only for a moment.
What could Adrian possibly want that he couldn’t say out loud?
- Writer
