Gifts Of Love

The Snowman's Wish

"What if this is my last chance? What if she meets someone else before next winter? What if her wish comes true and I miss my opportunity?"

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Word Count: 841

Rosé's mittened hands smoothed the final touches on her snowman's round belly, her breaths coming out in little puffs of white in the crisp December air. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Central Park's snow-covered lawn, and she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Perfect. Well, almost perfect.

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a worn red scarf—the same one she'd been using for this ritual for the past five years. As she wrapped it carefully around the snowman's neck, she closed her eyes, ready to make her annual wish.

"You know, they say if you tell someone your wish, it won't come true."

Rosé's eyes flew open at the unexpected voice. A few feet away stood a man with delicate features and wind-reddened cheeks, bundled up in a navy peacoat. His silver hair caught the winter light like moonbeams, and a mischievous smile danced across his face, his eyes forming perfect crescents.

"I wasn't going to say it out loud," she replied, feeling heat rise to her face despite the cold.

"I'm Jimin," he said, stepping closer to inspect her creation with graceful movements that seemed to defy the slippery snow beneath his feet. "Your snowman has character. Most people just stick with the basic three balls of snow and call it a day."

Rosé looked at her snowman with pride. She'd given him a slight tilt to his head, arms raised as if in welcome, and even managed to shape something resembling a smile from carefully placed pebbles.

"Thanks. I'm Rosé," she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "And this is... well, I haven't named him yet."

"You name your snowmen?" Jimin's eyes disappeared into adorable half-moons as he smiled. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Not all of them," Rosé defended, though she couldn't help smiling back. "Just the special ones."

"And what makes this one special?"

Rosé hesitated, suddenly feeling silly about her tradition. "It's... kind of a yearly thing. I build a snowman here every winter and make a wish."

"Let me guess," Jimin said, stepping closer still, his movements fluid and elegant even in winter boots. "A wish for love?"

She stared at him, startled. "How did you—"

"Because I've seen you," he admitted, a soft blush deepening the pink already on his cheeks from the cold. "Every year for the past three years, actually. Same spot, same red scarf, same thoughtful expression as you close your eyes."

Rosé's heart skipped a beat. "You've noticed me before?"

"Hard not to," Jimin said softly. "You put so much care into each snowman. And..." he trailed off, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck shyly. "I may have made some wishes of my own."

"Here?" Rosé glanced around, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him before.

"Different spot," he said, pointing to a clearing near the path that curved around the pond. "I usually build mine over there. With considerably less artistic talent, I might add."

"And what do you wish for?" Rosé asked, though she thought she might already know the answer.

Jimin's eyes met hers, warm and tender despite the winter chill. "Would you believe me if I said I've been wishing to work up the courage to talk to the beautiful girl who builds snowmen with such dedication?"

Rosé felt warmth spread through her chest, better than any hot chocolate could provide. "Really?"

"Really," he confirmed, his voice as gentle as falling snow. "Though I have to admit, this year I almost chickened out again. But then I thought—what if this is my last chance? What if she meets someone else before next winter? What if her wish comes true and I miss my opportunity?"

Rosé looked at her snowman, then back at Jimin. "Well," she said slowly, "maybe it already has."

Jimin's entire face lit up with joy. "In that case," he said, reaching down to gather some snow with surprising grace, "would you help me build one more? We could make a friend for yours."

"I'd like that," Rosé replied, already bending to help. "But this time, let's make the wish together."

As they worked side by side in the fading winter light, their snowman took shape—a little lopsided, a bit imperfect, but somehow just right. And when Jimin wrapped his scarf around its neck—a blue one that complemented Rosé's red one perfectly—they both closed their eyes and wished.

Only this time, they didn't wish for love to find them.

They wished for it to stay.

Years later, when they'd tell the story of how they met, they'd always disagree on one detail: whose wish came true that day—his or hers. But they both agreed on one thing: sometimes the best wishes are the ones you don't have to make alone.

And every winter after that, two snowmen appeared in Central Park: one with a red scarf, one with a blue one, standing together against the cold, their pebble smiles seeming to share a secret that only true love could understand

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