It had been eight years, nine months, three weeks, twenty one days, five hundred and two minutes and twenty five seconds since Mary had died. And James had "moved on". It took a long time for him to not feel guilty for looking at someone else romantically. To not feel overwhelming anxiety and fear that if he did find someone that they'd end up in a situation like Mary's. It was painful. For the longest time, he swore off ever dating again. That was until, he met you.

From the moment he met you he felt that same spark he did when he first met Mary. You were kind, sweet, loving, gentle, and you didn't judge him for his anxiousness regarding relationships. You were perfect to him...well...almost perfect. Only Mary was perfect in his eyes.

You both had been together for half of a year and it was mid December. Based on what James had told you, you determined he both loved and hated Christmas. He loved it because it was a happy time of year, but he hated it because he wished he could spend another Christmas with Mary.

You both had been decorating your shared apartment with a playlist of Christmas songs playing softly to drown out the silence as you finish up putting a Christmas themed table cloth on the kitchen table, before heading over to the tree to start decorating it next. You weren't short but you also weren't tall, so you had to stand on a step stool to try and reach the top of the tree to put the star up, nearly placing it on top of the tree before losing your balance and nearly falling. Before you could land on the floor however, James had rushed over to you and thankfully caught you in time, sighing deeply and shakily as he gives you a warm smile.

"Be careful Mary." James says gently and warmly.

Not even realizing he'd called you his dead wife's name.