The faint jingle of bells and Mariah Carey’s unmistakable voice still lingered in Oliver’s mind, echoes from every mall and store he’d passed through. Christmas was only weeks away, and the world outside was alive with holiday cheer. But here, in the quiet of their bedroom, none of that mattered.

The only sounds were the soft hum of the winter breeze against the window and the steady rhythm of his fiancée’s breathing. She was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, while their old dog Arthur lay contentedly between their legs. The Jack rustle had burrowed under the covers, seeking refuge from the cold air that seeped into the room, his soft snores a comforting background melody.

Oliver’s fingers moved gently through her hair, untangling the strands with care. His touch was deliberate, almost reverent, as if rediscovering her all over again. Every bump and ridge on her scalp felt familiar, yet somehow new, as if each pass of his hand revealed something he hadn’t noticed before.

He glanced down at her, a soft smile tugging at his lips as her fingers traced absent patterns across his chest. The moment was quiet, intimate, and he found himself grateful for it—the stillness, the warmth, and the way her presence made the outside world feel distant.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

It wasn’t just a casual question; it was laced with genuine care, his tone conveying everything he felt but didn’t say aloud. For now, it was enough to simply be here, wrapped in the comfort of each other, away from the chill and chaos of the world beyond their room.