"My grandmother was big on Christmas too," he said softly, his voice almost lost in the festive noise.
I turned to him, my curiosity piqued."Oh, yeah?"
He nodded, a faraway look settling over his features."Yeah.She had this old farmhouse out in the country.Every year, she’d go all out—decorations, food, everything.The whole place would smell like pine and cinnamon for weeks."
I could see his face softening as he spoke, his usual guarded expression melting away.It was like seeing a different side of him, one that was hidden under layers of past hurts and secrets.
"She used to tell us stories," he continued."On Christmas Eve, we’d sit by the fireplace with mugs of hot chocolate.She’d spin these incredible tales about her childhood, growing up during the thirties, and how they made do with what little they had.But they always found a way to celebrate Christmas."
His voice took on a wistful tone."One year, she told us about this Christmas when they didn’t have money for presents.Her father—my great-grandfather—went out into the woods and chopped down this scraggly little tree.It wasn’t much to look at, but they decorated it with handmade ornaments and bits of ribbon."
He chuckled softly at the memory."She said it was the most beautiful tree she’d ever seen because it was filled with love."
My heart skipped a beat as I watched him.His face had transformed, lit up from within by the memories he shared.It was beautiful, seeing this vulnerable side of him.
"That’s why Christmas always mattered so much to her," he said quietly."It wasn’t about the gifts or the decorations—it was about family and love."
For a moment, we stood there in silence, letting his words settle between us like snowflakes gently falling to the ground.The bustling sounds of the crowd faded into the background as I felt an unexpected connection with him—a shared understanding of what Christmas truly meant.
His eyes met mine for a fleeting moment before he looked away again, his expression inscrutable.
The night air grew colder, but neither of us moved.The warmth of shared silence wrapped around us like an old blanket.
"It's beautiful," I finally said.
Christian nodded slightly.
And we stayed there, side by side in quiet companionship, letting the magic of Christmas settle around us like freshly fallen snow.
I glanced at Christian, noticing the way he hunched against the cold.Without thinking, I began to shrug off the jacket."Here," I said, holding it out to him.
He shook his head."Keep it.I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"I pressed, my concern deepening."You mentioned being used to it, but still..."
His gaze turned distant."I used to sleep in the cold," he said quietly.
It took a moment for his words to sink in.The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—he was talking about his time in the military.
"What was it like?"I asked before I could stop myself.
He hesitated, a shadow crossing his face.The air between us felt heavy with unspoken memories.
"It's okay," I added quickly, "You don't have to tell me."
The silence stretched on, and I found myself wishing I hadn't pushed him.The last thing I wanted was to make him uncomfortable.
But then he spoke, his voice low and measured."One night stands out," he began, staring into the distance as if seeing something far away."We were on a mission in the mountains.Snow was falling hard, and the temperature dropped way below freezing."
His words painted a vivid picture, each detail sharp and clear in my mind."We'd been trekking for hours," he continued."Our gear was soaked through from the snow, and we hadn't eaten in over a day.The wind cut through us like knives."
I listened intently, hanging on every word.
"We found this small cave to take shelter in," he said."It wasn't much—just enough space for the four of us to huddle together.We couldn't risk a fire, so we wrapped ourselves in whatever we had and tried to get some rest."
His expression grew somber as he recounted the experience."I remember lying there, listening to the howling wind outside and wondering if we'd make it through the night."
The image of him and his comrades huddled together in that cave sent a shiver down my spine.
