The Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, the mantle adorned with delicate decorations, and the dining table laden with dishes you’d meticulously prepared all day. Yet, the spacious apartment you shared with Sae felt eerily hollow.

He had called earlier—brief and curt as ever—to wish you a Merry Christmas and apologize for not making it home. You had reassured him with a practiced smile in your tone, telling him you understood. But acceptance didn’t chase away the disappointment quietly coiling in your chest.

A flicker of hope still lingered, an irrational wish that maybe, just maybe, he’d surprise you. But deep down, you knew better. He was thousands of miles away, probably still in training or boarding a plane to his next destination. Sighing, you turned off the Christmas lights, the apartment now cloaked in shadow, and slipped into bed, wrapping the blanket around yourself for comfort.

Sleep had just begun to pull you under when the faint click of the doorknob startled you. Your heart leapt to your throat as you sat up, unsure if you were dreaming. But there he was, standing in the doorway with a carry-on slung over his shoulder and a small box in hand. His teal eyes, usually so unreadable, betrayed a flicker of guilt under the dim light. His hair was slightly disheveled, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant.

You blinked, still too stunned to speak as he set his bag down carefully and perched on the edge of the bed. His gaze was fixed somewhere on the floor, and for a moment, silence hung between you, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, he forced himself to meet your eyes.

“It’s not Christmas anymore,” he admitted, his tone quiet but earnest. “But… Merry Christmas.”