The wind howled outside, battering against the cabin like an unwelcome guest. Minho glared at the frosted window, his breath fogging the glass. Snow swirled thickly, obliterating the world beyond, and the heavy silence inside was only broken by the occasional creak of wood under the weight of the storm.

He grumbled under his breath, pacing in front of the cold fireplace. The power had gone out hours ago, leaving the cabin dark and biting. His fingers were stiff, and despite the layers of blankets around his shoulders, the chill seeped into his bones.

Minho spared a glance at Jisung, his husband, who sat huddled on the couch, bundled in a mound of blankets. The soft glow of the lantern illuminated his face, his nose pink from the cold. Of course, Jisung hadn’t complained, not once. That was just like him—too stubbornly cheerful, too infuriatingly calm.

“What a perfect Christmas” Minho muttered sarcastically, dragging his hand through his hair.