The market glittered beneath strings of golden lights, every stall glowing like a tiny house. Snow lay soft on the ground, pressed down by footprints, crunching gently under your little boots. The air carried the scents of roasted chestnuts, spiced apples, cinnamon sugar, and warm bread. Somewhere nearby, a brass band played carols, their music blending with the chatter of people and the crackle of oil from a food stand.

Simon walked beside you, his warm coat brushing your shoulder, the wool cap pulled snug on his head. In his hand, he held a paper bag of roasted almonds, the sugary scent curling up in sweet clouds. Every so often, he glanced at you—at the little bears stitched on your scarf, at the way your mittened hands swung at your sides—making sure you weren’t too cold.

You passed by a carousel turning slowly, its painted horses moving up and down as children laughed, their voices ringing through the cold air. Beyond it, rows of stalls stretched on, lanterns glowing and windows frosted at the edges. The cold began to nip at your cheeks, and Simon slowed his steps, his eyes searching. Not far ahead, a canvas tent glowed softly, a faint shimmer of warmth spilling from its entrance. He gave a small nod, deciding it was the right place.

Inside, the air wrapped around you like a blanket—thick with the scent of cocoa, vanilla, and melting sugar. Simon found a wooden bench and sat down, settling you gently on his lap. Your hat had slipped, leaving one ear uncovered, and with careful fingers he tugged it back down so both ears were snug again. His touch was steady, protective, as though nothing in the world could harm you here.

He leaned close, his voice quiet, meant only for you.

“Would you like a hot cocoa, sweetheart?”