Chapter 12: Silent night,loud thoughts

Christmas Eve arrived quietly, the kind that crept in on soft wind and flickering streetlights rather than loud carols or laughter. Abigail noticed it first in the air. It smelled different—cold, metallic, sharp with pine and distant smoke. Winter always did that to her. It made everything feel closer and farther at the same time.

She stood by her apartment window, mug of hot chocolate warming her hands, watching snow fall in lazy spirals. Somewhere below, a couple laughed. Somewhere else, a radio played a warped version of Silent Night. The world felt paused.

Her phone buzzed.

James: You ready?

She smiled before she even realized she was doing it.

Abigail: Almost. Give me five minutes.

She set the mug down and leaned her forehead against the glass. Christmas used to mean Aunt Lila waking her up too early, insisting that “joy waits for no one,” even while coughing into a tissue she thought Abigail didn’t notice. That was last year. Another life.

A knock came at the door.

“Five minutes, liar,” James called from the hallway, amused.

She opened the door to find him holding a paper bag in one hand and a small box wrapped badly in red paper in the other. Snow clung to his hair and jacket.

“You look like a Hallmark movie,” she said.

“You look like someone who forgot her scarf,” he replied, immediately stepping closer and draping his own around her neck. “Problem solved.”

She laughed. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he said simply.

They walked together through the streets, boots crunching against snow, shoulders brushing just often enough to feel intentional. The city glowed—warm lights in windows, plastic reindeer on balconies, wreaths crooked but proud.

They stopped at a small park where someone had strung fairy lights between bare trees. A bench waited beneath them, dusted with snow.

James pulled the paper bag open. “Okay. Don’t judge me.”

He handed her a small cup. Steam rose instantly.

“Mulled cider,” he said. “I may have… slightly burned it.”

She took a sip, winced, then laughed. “It’s awful.”

“I knew it.”

“But it’s your awful,” she said, taking another sip anyway.

He watched her like that mattered.

For a moment, neither spoke. Snow fell. Lights flickered.

“Do you ever feel weird on holidays?” Abigail asked suddenly.

James tilted his head. “Weird how?”

“Like… you’re supposed to feel something specific. Joy. Gratitude. Magic.” She exhaled. “And instead you just feel… off.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like you’re acting in a scene you don’t remember auditioning for.”

She blinked. “That’s exactly it.”

Their eyes met, and something tightened in her chest—not fear, not love, but something tangled between the two.

They exchanged gifts then. His was a small notebook, the cover soft and dark blue.

“For your thoughts,” he said. “The ones that don’t behave.”

Her throat tightened. “How did you—”

“You talk in your sleep,” he said lightly, then paused. “Sometimes.”

She laughed it off, even though a chill slid down her spine.

Her gift to him was simpler: a scarf she’d knitted herself, uneven stitches and all.

“I’m bad at finishing things,” she admitted.

He wrapped it around his neck immediately. “Then I’ll be the finished part.”

Later, they walked again, hands linked. At one point, Abigail swore she saw someone across the street—someone who looked like James, standing under a streetlamp, watching them.

She stopped.

“Do you see that?” she asked.

“See what?”

She looked again. The streetlamp flickered. The figure was gone.

“…Nothing,” she said.

James squeezed her hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just tired.”

They stopped beneath a large Christmas tree in the square. Someone had placed candles at its base. A quiet crowd stood nearby, singing softly.

James leaned closer. “Merry Christmas, Abigail.”

She smiled, but her reflection in the ornament behind him didn’t smile back.

“Merry Christmas,” she replied.

Above them, snow continued to fall—soft, endless, and unforgiving.

And for just a second, Abigail wondered why she couldn’t remember her life clearly before she met him.