It was a cold December evening when I first saw her. The snow had started falling heavily, coating the streets in a thick blanket of white. I was standing in line at the coffee shop, my coat wrapped tightly around me, my breath forming small clouds in the crisp air. The holiday decorations around the café were bright and festive—twinkling lights, a giant tree in the corner, and the warm scent of cinnamon and pine filling the room.

I was just about to grab my coffee when I noticed her. She was sitting by the window, a steaming cup of cocoa in front of her, staring out at the snow with a soft smile on her face. There was something about the way she seemed to be lost in the moment, completely unaware of the world around her, that drew me in. I almost didn’t want to disturb her, but something urged me to speak.

I walked over and, with a nervous smile, asked, "Is this seat taken?" She looked up, surprised at first, and then smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up. “No, go ahead,” she said, gesturing to the empty chair across from her.

We started talking, at first about the weather, then about the holidays. I discovered she loved Christmas—especially the lights, the music, and the warmth that seemed to fill the world at this time of year. As we chatted, time seemed to disappear. There was something about her presence that made everything feel right, like I had known her for much longer than just a few minutes.

After a while, we realized we had been talking for hours. We laughed, shared stories, and even joked about how it felt like a Christmas movie—two strangers meeting on a snowy night in a cozy café.

Before we parted ways, we exchanged numbers, and I said, “I’m really glad I sat down with you. I don’t think I would have forgiven myself if I hadn’t. And I really don’t want to say goodbye.” I looked at her and smiled, as a wonderful idea crossed my mind.. “How about I walk you home? We’ll have a little more time to talk.” I prayed that she would agree.