Chrismas (almost) alone

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The peace in the cabin barely lasted until the afternoon. Clara, determined to avoid Louis, spent the morning reading by the fireplace. But her stomach eventually betrayed her, and she headed to the kitchen, where she found Louis rummaging through the cupboards.

"Alright, we need a plan," he said, pulling out a box of flour.

"A plan for what? Survival?" Clara raised an eyebrow.

"To avoid killing each other," he replied with a smirk. "And to eat, obviously."

She crossed her arms, slightly amused despite herself.

"Let me guess, you already have a brilliant idea?"

Louis nodded and pulled out a notebook he'd found in one of the drawers.

"We take turns with meals. Each of us cooks every other day. No arguments, no overlap."

Clara considered the suggestion. It seemed reasonable, though she wasn't about to say so out loud.

"Fine. But you're starting," she declared.

Louis let out a theatrical sigh.

"Alright. But you're on dish duty."

She shrugged. Deal, she thought.

For his turn, Louis opted for a simple yet hearty stew, using the vegetables from the fridge and some dried herbs he found in the cupboards. Though Clara wouldn't admit it, she was impressed by his efficiency. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, measuring each ingredient with precision.

"Well?" he asked with a self-satisfied grin as she took her first bite.

"Edible," she replied, feigning indifference, though she privately thought it was one of the best meals she'd had in a while.

Louis raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.

The next day, Clara decided to prove she was just as capable in the kitchen. She remembered a muffin recipe she'd made once or twice before.

"I'll make muffins. Perfect for afternoon tea," she said confidently.

Louis leaned against the counter, one eyebrow raised.

"Ambitious. You sure about this?"

"Absolutely," Clara replied, waving a whisk dramatically to emphasize her confidence.

Reality, however, was far messier. She tossed ingredients into a bowl without much regard for proportions and poured the batter into the muffin tray. Wanting them extra fluffy, she added a generous amount of baking powder.

When she pulled the muffins out of the oven, they resembled tiny, misshapen volcanoes. The smell wasn't encouraging, either.

Louis stood with his arms crossed, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

"I don't mean to be critical, but... they look lethal."

Clara, slightly stung, bit into a muffin to prove him wrong. Her face twisted immediately. Too salty, too dense, and inexplicably bitter.

"You see, you don't even have to tell me it's a disaster," he teased.

Clara blushed, fumbling for an excuse.

"Maybe the oven's broken! Or... the flour's expired!"

Louis burst out laughing.

"You know what? Let's call this a learning experience. But for everyone's sake, I'll handle the baking next time."

Despite herself, Clara ended up laughing too.

After their baking disaster, the two of them returned to sit by the fire, each with a cup of tea and some store-bought biscuits they'd found in the pantry.

"So, Clara," Louis said, breaking the silence, "are you always this... adventurous?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling.

"Let's just say I learn from my mistakes."

For the first time since they'd met, the atmosphere seemed lighter. They weren't friends—not yet—but something between them was beginning to shift.

To be continued: A forced walk in the snow brings the two unlikely companions closer together.