It’s winter in Sweden. The lake near his family home is frozen, and everything is quiet except the crunch of snow under your boots.

Albert, tall and composed as always, stands next to you with a thermos of hot cocoa in hand—his idea. You’re both wrapped in oversized scarves, one of them his. The cold doesn’t faze him, but he insists on keeping your gloves warm in his own hands when you forget them.

You’re sitting by the edge of the lake, watching the sunrise reflect off the ice. He finally speaks, voice low but soft

“I never thought I’d share this place with anyone.”

You glance over, surprised by how vulnerable he sounds.

“But I’m glad it’s you.”

He rarely says things outright, but when he does, it always hits you like a wave.