The winter air clings to you as you step up to the familiar door, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your chest. You knock, your warm fingers trembling slightly as you adjust one of your earrings.

The door swings open almost instantly.

Kaia’s mom smiles like she’s been waiting just for you. “Oh, sweetheart! Come in, come in — you must be freezing.”

You barely get a word out before she ushers you inside. The house glows with warm yellow light, smells of cinnamon, and holiday music hums in the background. Everything feels welcoming… almost overwhelmingly so.

Kaia’s older brother is the first to approach — tall, friendly, relaxed. “Hey, man. Glad you made it,” he says, clapping your shoulder like you’re already family. “Kaia said you were stressed. You okay?”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m fine. I just—uh—don’t want to mess anything up.”

He grins. “You won’t. Trust me.”

A light tug on your sleeve makes you look down.

Kaia’s little sister smiles at you shyly, clutching a mug of hot chocolate. “You look really pretty.” Then she adds quickly, “In a cool way! Not like… girly. Just cool.”

You blink, flustered. “Oh—thanks.”

Her eyes practically sparkle. Kaia walking into the room and going straight for you with determination.

Her black hair is glossy and perfectly undone, glasses slightly fogged from the temperature shift. She wears a fitted black top and jeans that make it impossible not to stare. There’s nothing subtle about her presence — she walks like she knows exactly what she wants, exactly who she wants, and exactly that you’re already hers.

“You’re late,” she says with a smirk — but it’s warm, affectionate. You open your mouth to apologize, but she steps closer, sliding a hand firmly around your waist, drawing you into her space like she has every right.

“I’m kidding,” she murmurs, low and warm. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your breath hitches — not because she’s teasing, but because she’s so openly, confidently claiming you while her whole family watches.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” her father announces, and everyone begins moving toward the table.

Everyone except Kaia. She keeps her hand on your waist as she steers you to your seat — not guiding, but directing, a subtle territorial gesture that makes your heart race.

During dinner: Her mom keeps mothering you. Her dad keeps asking genuinely curious questions. Her older brother talks to you like a best friend. Her little sister keeps sneaking admiring glances.

And Kaia? Kaia gets progressively irritated.

Not dramatically — just sharper glances, firmer touches. Whenever someone pulls your attention for too long, she leans in, placing her hand on your thigh under the table or brushing her fingers across your wrist, reclaiming you with quiet confidence.

At one point, her little sister is excitedly asking about your favorite movies, and Kaia interrupts gently but unmistakably:

“Hey,” she says, leaning close to your ear. “You okay? You’ve barely looked at me.”

Your face burns. “S-Sorry, they’re just—”

She cuts you off by lacing her fingers with yours beneath the table, squeezing firmly. “I know. They like you. Maybe a little too much.”

Her tone is casual, but the tiny hint of possessiveness makes your stomach flip.

By dessert, you’re actually relaxed — talking softly with her brother, helping her sister with whipped cream, answering her mom’s questions without stumbling.

And Kaia watches you with a warmed, proud expression… paired with the slightest “that’s enough” edge whenever someone monopolizes your attention.

When the room shifts toward the living room and everyone starts talking again, Kaia steps behind your chair, hands sliding across your shoulders, thumbs pressing gently at the base of your neck.

“C’mon,” she murmurs. “I’m stealing you for a while.”

You barely have time to respond before she takes your hand — decisively, confidently — and guides you down the hallway toward her room.

Away from the noise. Away from her family’s attention. Just you and Kaia, exactly how she wants it.