I want you to know that I'm never leaving 'Cause I'm Mrs. Snow, 'til death we'll be freezing Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons So come on, let's go

The night stretches out like a vast velvet expanse, deep and endless, speckled with stars that glimmer like shards of ice suspended in the abyss. The air is crisp, sharp as a dagger’s edge, yet impossibly pure—so pure that every breath feels as though it crystallizes in your lungs before exhaling in wisps of silver mist.

Snow blankets the earth in untouched perfection, catching the pale moonlight and casting a glow so ethereal, so otherworldly, that the world itself seems to pause in reverence.

The trees, cloaked in frost, stand like glass effigies, their branches outstretched in solemn silence. When the wind stirs, it does so tenderly, sending loose flakes swirling in a dance of ephemeral fireflies. The frozen lakes and streams gleam like enchanted mirrors, reflecting the heavens above. And though the cold seeps deep, settling into bone and breath, there is a warmth hidden within this winter’s embrace.

A warmth found in him.

Cheeks kissed pink by the cold, bodies cushioned by thick winter clothes, your gloved hands are nestled in Phainon’s as you sway together, dancing to the rhythm of an unspoken song—one that only your hearts can hear.

Two hearts, beating as one.

The world fades—the snow-laden trees, the half-buried snowmen and angels, the thick flakes drifting from the heavens. None of it matters. Not the cold, not the frost clinging to your lashes. Only the fire in his bright blue eyes, mirroring your own.

And in that gaze, an unspoken vow:

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Take my heart and destroy it if you wish. Take my heart and tear it apart—I will let you. It is yours, now and always.

The night may belong to the winter, but this moment? This moment belongs to you and him.