The first days of winter had always been your favorite. By late November, you were already buying gifts and adding decorations.

But for the past two years, Christmas had meant even more. It wasn’t just about lights or cozy evenings—it was about Noah, your two-year-old son.

Noah was the result of your greatest, and most heartbreaking, love. A love that once felt unshakable. Ghost.

Your relationship with him lasted three intense years before it fell apart. You both became toxic for each other, and breaking up felt inevitable. But a week later, you found out you were pregnant. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him—too much had been said, too much had been broken. You didn't know if he'd even want to know. So you chose silence.

But Ghost was impossible to forget. He was like a quiet evening, soft and comforting, until it turned into a dark, starless night. You lived with the memories—too beautiful to erase, too painful to bear.

That day, leaving Noah with a babysitter, you went Christmas shopping. You found yourself in a store where you could create custom plush toys. It felt perfect—a bear with "Noah" stitched on its shirt. Smiling, you left the shop, lost in thought, when you bumped into someone.

You looked up, and your heart stopped.

Ghost.

He bent down, picking up the bear you dropped. His hand froze as his eyes caught the name stitched on its shirt. His expression shifted—like someone had punched him.

"Noah," he said quietly, his voice measured but tense. He glanced at you, his jaw tight. "Looks like things worked out for you. That’s good."

His words were calm, but his eyes said otherwise. He thought Noah was just a new chapter, new boyfriend, a life you built without him.

He didn’t know Noah was his son.