Chrismas (almost) alone

Snowed in

Clara pulled back the curtains of the chalet, greeted by a breathtaking view: a sea of untouched white snow, pine trees bowed under its weight, and flakes still falling soundlessly. The scene was postcard-perfect, but to her, it was a stark reminder of how isolated she was.

The night had been restless, marked by the relentless ticking of the clock and the thought of the man with whom she now unwillingly shared her space. Louis had kept to himself after their clash, retreating to one of the bedrooms and closing the door with a sharp finality that seemed to scream, Do not disturb.

Wrapped in a blanket, Clara stared at the endless snow. "Great. As if being stuck with an arrogant stranger wasn't enough, now I'm snowed in, too."

She grabbed her phone, hoping against all odds to see a bar of signal appear. Nothing. Just the dreaded message: No service.

Sighing, she shuffled to the kitchen for coffee, only to find Louis already there, mug in hand and a book open before him. He wore a gray wool sweater—casual, yet annoyingly stylish—which only grated on Clara's nerves further.

"Morning," she mumbled without much enthusiasm.

"Morning," he replied flatly.

She brushed past him toward the coffee machine, but froze when she saw the empty tin on the counter.

"Don't tell me we're out of coffee," she said, her voice sharp with disbelief.

Louis raised an eyebrow and gave a half-shrug. "I thought there was enough. Apparently not."

Clara closed her eyes, inhaling deeply to stop herself from snapping. Keep it together. Be civil.

"Fine. And what am I supposed to do now? Tea?"

Without even looking up, Louis replied, "That seems like a reasonable option."

She clenched her jaw, filled a mug with hot water, and focused on her breathing.

"So," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "what's on today's agenda? Monopoly? Philosophy debates?"

Louis finally lifted his gaze, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"I was thinking snow shoveling. If we want any chance of getting out of here before next year, we'll need to clear the path."

Clara glanced out the window, watching the snow continue to pile up.

"You're kidding, right? You really think we can shovel through that?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

His calm, logical tone infuriated her. She hated how unflappable he seemed, even when everything was clearly a mess.

Hours later, bundled up in every layer they could find, Clara and Louis attacked the snow with shovels in hand. Clara channeled her frustration into each scoop, determined to prove she wasn't the type to give up easily.

"So, this is your idea of a vacation?" she asked, panting after a few minutes of work.

Louis chuckled, a warm, low sound that caught her off guard.

"Not exactly what I had in mind either," he admitted.

"Oh? And where were you supposed to be?"

He paused mid-shovel, leaning on the handle and looking at her with a mix of curiosity and reluctance.

"Anywhere but here. But it seems fate had other plans."

She raised an eyebrow, but he looked away, ending the conversation before it could go any further.

Back in the chalet, they retreated to opposite corners, both exhausted. Yet something had subtly shifted. The icy wall between them had begun to crack, just enough to let a glimmer of understanding through.

Wrapped in a blanket by the fire, Clara glanced at Louis from the corner of her eye. Maybe being stuck in this storm with him wasn't the worst thing that could happen...

For now, anyway.