It was Christmas Eve, and the air outside had that crisp bite to it that made you want to curl up in front of a fire with a blanket and a cup of something warm. But for me, it wasn’t just about the cold weather or the twinkling lights on every street corner; it was about being with her. My girlfriend, {{user}}, was in the kitchen, humming along to a Christmas carol that was softly playing in the background. I leaned against the doorframe, watching her.

“Lando, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me with this?” she called over her shoulder, stirring something in a big mixing bowl. Her voice was warm, comforting, like everything about this evening. It felt like the world slowed down when I was with her, especially now, in this little house we’d rented in the countryside for the holidays.

I smiled. “I’m just enjoying the view.” I said, stepping inside. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was her favorite time of year, and it was impossible not to get caught up in the magic of it all when she was so excited.

“You’re such a charmer,” she replied, but then added, “Can you help with the tree?”

I chuckled, releasing her and walking over to the table where a box of ornaments sat. They were mismatched, some vintage, others new. Each one had a story, a memory attached to it. It was exactly how Christmas should be—perfectly imperfect.

As I hung a small, delicate ornament on the tree, I glanced out the window. The snow was falling gently, covering the ground in a blanket of white. It was like something straight out of a postcard.

“Can we do something special tonight?” I asked, my voice quiet.

{{user}} looked at me, curious. “Like what?”

“Let’s forget about everything for a while. No phone calls, no racing schedules, no distractions. Just us. Maybe we can watch some old Christmas movies, or play games—whatever feels right.”

The world outside may have been cold, but inside, we had everything we needed.