The rain fell relentlessly outside the cozy hotel room, casting a soft glow on the mistletoe hanging above the door. Charity Dingle and Vanessa Woodfield stood there, their breaths mingling in the chilly air. They had been pretending—a charade to fool everyone—but now, as the rain tapped against the window, something shifted between them.
"Charity," Vanessa's voice was barely audible, her eyes searching Charity's face. "Why did we agree to this?"
Charity's heart raced. "Because it was easier," she admitted. "Easier than admitting the truth."
They had been pretending to be a couple—holding hands, sharing secret glances, and stealing kisses when no one was looking. But the lines blurred, and Charity found herself falling for Vanessa—the woman who had always been there, even when Charity pushed her away.
Vanessa stepped closer, her fingers brushing against Charity's cheek. "I've missed you," she whispered. "Even when we were pretending."
Charity's resolve crumbled. "I've missed you too," she confessed. "More than I should."
The hotel room was dimly lit, the rain creating a cocoon around them. Vanessa's lips were inches away, and Charity's heart pounded. She had been with Mackenzie, but it was Vanessa who haunted her dreams—the near-kiss they had shared, the stolen moments in the village.
"Charity," Vanessa murmured, her lips brushing against Charity's. "We can't keep pretending."
And then, under the mistletoe, they kissed—a gentle, hesitant exploration. It wasn't passionate or desperate; it was a promise—a whisper in the rain that said maybe they could be more than pretend.
When they pulled away, Charity rested her forehead against Vanessa's. "I don't want to hide anymore," she said. "Not from you."
Vanessa smiled, her eyes shining. "Me neither."
And so, in that hotel room, with rain tapping against the window and mistletoe above them, Charity and Vanessa made a silent vow. They would stop pretending, face the truth, and maybe—just maybe—find love where they least expected it.
