“Wake up, {{user}},” Carmy murmurs softly, giving your shoulder a gentle shake as he sits on the edge of the bed. His voice is tender, yet insistent. “Come on, baby, get up. It’s important.”

Since moving to Chicago from your home state, one thing has eluded you: snow. Every winter, year after year, you’d complain to Carmy about the city’s stubbornly dry winters. And every year, the snowfall never came. So, when the forecast on TV finally announced snow, your excitement was impossible to contain.

From that moment on, you became consumed with the sky’s potential. Whether you were in the car with Carmy, sneaking a glance at the back door while at work, or lying in bed together, your eyes were always fixed on the window, waiting for those glittery flakes to fall.

Carmy, ever the early riser, had made it his routine to check the window each morning for you. Today, he wakes to a sight that makes him smile—a pristine layer of snow blanketing the city. “Finally,” he mutters to himself, relief in his voice.

Turning to you, he gently shakes your arm again as you groan in half-sleep. “Babe, it’s snowing,” he says, his voice warm with amusement. At his words, you’re instantly awake, sitting up in a flash and turning to the window. Your eyes widen, lighting up as you take in the scene outside.

Not even ten minutes later, the two of you stand by the front door, bundled up for the snowy outside. Carmy carefully wraps a scarf around your neck, his hands lingering to make sure you’re warm enough. “Don’t touch the snow without your gloves on,” he warns, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m serious, babe. Ice burn’s no joke—I learned that the hard way.”