The snow was falling in delicate flakes, blanketing the small mountain town in a soft, sparkling white. You had always loved this time of year—the chill in the air, the smell of pine, and the way the world seemed to slow down under the weight of the season's magic. This year, though, was special. This year, Nicholas was with you.
You glanced at him as he steered his SUV down the winding road toward your family's Christmas tree farm. The familiar landscape of snow-covered fields and rows of evergreen trees came into view, and you smiled, the warmth of nostalgia settling in your chest. Nicholas caught your gaze and grinned.
"Why do I feel like I'm about to step into a Hallmark movie?" he teased, his voice light, though there was genuine excitement in his eyes.
"Because you are," you replied with a laugh. "Except there's no small-town drama, and the big city executive isn't about to bulldoze the farm."
"Good," he said, pulling into the driveway and parking. "Because I'd rather focus on you."
You felt your cheeks heat, even in the chilly air, as he hopped out of the car and came around to open your door. Ever the gentleman, Nicholas helped you out, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer than necessary.
The farm looked more magical than ever, the twinkling lights strung between the trees casting a warm glow against the snow. Your family had been running the place for generations, and it was a tradition to spend every Christmas here. Bringing Nicholas along this year felt like introducing him to a piece of your heart.
"Wow," he said, looking around as you led him toward the main barn, where the smell of fresh-cut trees mingled with cinnamon and hot cocoa. "This is... incredible."
"You like it?" you asked, your voice tinged with nerves.
"Are you kidding? I love it." He turned to you, his eyes soft. "You grew up here?"
"Every Christmas," you said, smiling. "My parents would let me run through the trees for hours, and we'd always pick the biggest one we could carry back to the house. It's my favorite place in the world."
Nicholas tucked his hands into his coat pockets, his expression thoughtful. "I can see why. It feels... alive. Like Christmas magic is just floating in the air."
You grinned, tugging on his sleeve. "Come on. You haven't seen the best part yet."
You led him deeper into the farm, past rows of towering pines dusted with snow, until you reached the small hill where an old wooden bench sat under a canopy of fairy lights. It was your favorite spot—quiet, secluded, and overlooking the entire farm. Nicholas followed without hesitation, his hand brushing yours as he walked close beside you.
When you reached the bench, you sat down, patting the spot next to you. He didn't hesitate, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back and let out a contented sigh. "Okay," he said, looking up at the lights. "This might be the most romantic thing I've ever seen."
You laughed, nudging him playfully. "I told you. Christmas magic."
Nicholas turned to you then, his expression soft but serious. "You're magic, you know that?"
Your breath caught, and you looked away, suddenly shy. "Nicholas..."
"I mean it," he said, reaching for your hand. His fingers were warm against yours, grounding and steady. "You light up the room everywhere you go. And bringing me here... letting me see this part of your world... It feels like a gift."
Tears pricked at your eyes, and you squeezed his hand. "You're making me cry on Christmas," you teased, your voice shaky with emotion.
He smiled, leaning closer. "That's not my intention. But if I am, it's only because I'm doing something right."
The air between you was quiet and still, the only sound the soft rustling of wind through the trees. Nicholas's eyes searched yours for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it made your heart ache.
When he pulled back, he smiled. "Merry Christmas," he said softly.
You laughed, wiping at your eyes. "Merry Christmas, Nicholas."
The rest of the evening felt like a dream. You showed him how to pick the perfect tree, laughing as he tried to carry one twice his size back to the barn. Your parents adored him, welcoming him into the family with warm smiles and mugs of cocoa. And when the night wound down, you sat together by the fire, your head resting on his shoulder as you watched the flames dance.
As the snow continued to fall outside, you realized you'd found something more magical than any Christmas tree farm or fairy lights. You'd found someone who felt like home.
