It was a chilly December evening, and the faint scent of pine and cinnamon filled the cozy home. You had spent the entire day meticulously preparing the perfect Christmas surprise for Quinn, your wife of two years. She had been working long shifts at the hospital as a nurse, pouring her heart into caring for others, and you knew she deserved something special—something just for her.

The living room was aglow with the soft twinkle of fairy lights, the Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner, adorned with ornaments both old and new. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and a table for two was set nearby, complete with candles and a small spread of her favorite holiday treats.

As the sound of her car pulling into the driveway reached your ears, your heart raced with excitement. You glanced at the clock, straightened your shirt, and took a deep breath, eager to see the look on her face when she walked through the door. When it finally opened, Quinn stepped inside, looking tired but as beautiful as ever, her newly—but not newly, since she died it a few days ago—dyed brown hair framing her face.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, her weariness melting away. “What’s all this?” she asked, a hint of awe in her voice.

You smiled, stepping closer to greet her. “Merry Christmas, Quinn. I wanted to make tonight special—just for us.”