༺Masterpiece༻

XXXVII :: Merry

The afternoon had descended like a whispered secret, wrapping the world in a delicate embrace of winter’s breath. The air was crisp, filled with the subtle scent of roasted sweet potatoes and the faint echo of distant carols that seemed to drift through the stillness. Snowflakes fell softly, each one a fleeting miracle, as they settled gently on the windowpanes, turning the world outside into a landscape of silver and white. The sky, a canvas of deep orange, was dotted with clouds that floated like a thousand tiny candles, their cotton dancing playfully on the surface of the snow.

The fire in the hearth crackled and popped, its golden flames casting a soft, flickering glow that bathed the room in a warm embrace. Shadows danced along the walls, moving in time with the flicker of the fire, as if they too were caught up in the spirit of the evening. The Christmas tree that stood proudly in the corner, its branches adorned with twinkling lights and carefully chosen ornaments.

It was the kind of afternoon that felt timeless, as though we were suspended in a moment that would stretch on forever, caught between the fading light of day and the promise of Christmas morning. Every breath felt more profound, every heartbeat a gentle reminder of the peace and joy that filled our home.

I stood by the window, gazing out at the world that seemed to sleep beneath its blanket of snow, and felt a deep sense of contentment settle over me. It was as if the very air was infused with a quiet magic, a subtle but palpable energy that made everything feel more vivid, more alive.

Jimin entered the room, his expression relaxed, but there was a spark in his eyes that told me he, too, felt the magic of the evening. He glanced at me with a knowing smile, as if to say that he understood the significance of this moment, this gathering of souls on a day when the world seemed to hold its breath in reverence.

Just as I thought I was lost in the embrace of my dreams, I found solace in the things I had always yearned to hold onto. The quiet beauty of the moment was a reflection of the peace I had long sought, now finally within my grasp.

"Quite a spectacle, isn't it?" Jimin’s voice broke through my reverie as he handed me a cup of coffee, the rich aroma rising to meet the cool air. He knew my aversion to hot chocolate, so a perfectly brewed latte was his way of catering to my tastes.

“Indeed,” I replied, taking a sip, the warmth spreading through me as I savored the moment.

Jimin gazed out the window, his expression contemplative. "I sometimes wonder," he began, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken thoughts, "What a life we’ve all lived in less than three decades."

"Oh," I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Was this the spectacle you were referring to?"

He shot me a playful yet pointed look before breaking into a chuckle. "No, not quite. I meant this moment. Moments like these make you reflect, you know? Much like you, I’ve always wished I could see my mother again. Even though I performed her final rites, there’s this persistent thought that she’s still out there, somewhere in the crowd, lingering just beyond reach."

“For a long time, I wished my mother back too,” I admitted, my voice quieter now, as if the confession itself might stir old ghosts. “In a way, we’re all orphans, two by fate, and two by circumstances.”

As I spoke, my eyes drifted to Y/n, curled up on the couch, her dark curls cascading loosely around her face, framing her delicate features. She was deeply engrossed in the book she held, her world far away from ours. Her presence was a gentle reminder of the love that tethered me to the present. I could hear Antonella’s laughter from the kitchen, light and musical, as she exchanged stories and jokes over the telephone, her voices mingling with the sound of the fire and the distant chime of bells from the nearby church.

The clock on the mantel chimed softly, each note a delicate whisper in the silence, marking the passage of time. Yet, it seemed as though the hands of the clock were moving in slow motion, as if time itself was reluctant to disturb the spell that had woven itself around us, encasing the room in a gentle stillness.

I drifted away from the window, my steps barely audible as they sank into the plush, velvety rug. The fire’s warmth curled around us like a protective embrace, casting a soft, amber glow that danced in the reflection of Y/n’s eyes. She looked up from her book, those eyes—deep, warm, and inviting—met mine with an affection that mirrored the hearth’s flickering flames.

Without uttering a word, I settled beside her, the evening’s quietude enveloping us like a shared secret, one that needed no language, no explanation—just the silent understanding that existed between two souls deeply intertwined.

"What are you reading?" I asked, my voice a murmur, barely disturbing the serene air between us.

"A book," she replied, her tone light, a gentle tease that brought a soft smile to my lips.

I chuckled softly, leaning in just a little closer. "I can see that, my love. But tell me, what book holds your attention so completely?"

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing the edge of the page as if to gather her thoughts. Then, with a gaze both tender and knowing, she revealed, "It’s a collection of all the poems you’ve slipped into my drawers, hidden among my files, sent over texts, or recited to me during our stolen moments together. It’s been four years now, and I’ve gathered about forty-five of your poems."

Her words left me momentarily breathless, a wave of surprise and emotion washing over me. I had never imagined she would remember each line, let alone treasure them so dearly. I felt a surge of deep affection, mingled with a touch of awe—here she was, cherishing every word, every fragment of my thoughts, as though they were as precious to her as she was to me.

Gently, I reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering for a moment longer. "I never knew," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I never knew you had such a gift—to remember, to cherish... And I never knew you had loved me as deeply and for as long as I have loved you."

She smiled softly, a quiet, knowing smile that spoke volumes, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The silence that followed was tender, profound, filled with an unspoken understanding that words could never capture. The truth lingered between us, palpable and warm, like a delicate thread woven into the very air. Our hands found each other in that stillness, fingers entwining with a gentle firmness that spoke of a connection neither of us needed to question, let alone release.

Breaking the serene moment, she tilted her head slightly, her voice a soft murmur laced with playful curiosity. "Why aren’t you ready yet?" she asked, her tone a mix of amusement and gentle chiding.

"Ready for what?" I responded, a slight furrow of confusion creasing my brow, as I remained comfortably seated beside her, still basking in the afterglow of our silent exchange.

Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned closer, her breath warm against my cheek. "We’re going out for a movie, and then we’ll have dinner afterward. Didn’t Antonella tell you anything?"

I paused, recalling the conversation I’d had with Antonella earlier, and then chuckled softly, the pieces slowly falling into place. "Come to think of it," I began, a note of realization in my voice, "she did mention something about getting ready, but I had no idea what it was for."

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and amusement as she gently nudged me. "Well then, dress up, Mr. Jeon," she said, her voice carrying a playful authority that made my heart skip a beat. "We’re fine dining tonight, and I expect nothing less than your best."

She rose gracefully from the couch, her movements fluid and effortless, as though she were gliding across the room rather than walking. I watched her for a moment, entranced by the way the firelight danced upon her silhouette, casting a soft glow that seemed to heighten her already enchanting presence.

With a lingering glance back at me, she disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving behind a trail of anticipation. I finally stood, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I moved toward the bedroom, ready to embrace the evening she had so meticulously planned, or should I say, Antonella had.

As I began to dress, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement, not just for the evening ahead, but for the life we were building together—one filled with these small, intimate moments that somehow made everything feel grand and extraordinary.