Christmas had settled in quietly, wrapping the world in soft lights and gentle cheer. Bobette, Rudie, Ginger—and of course Coal—were all brimming with excitement, the season filling every corner of the workshop with warmth and laughter. The air smelled faintly of pine, sugar, and fresh snow, and everything felt just a little softer than usual.

For Bobette, though, this Christmas was deeply personal.

The long isolation had made her miss you more than she’d ever admit out loud, and she’d poured every unspoken feeling into your gift. Inside the carefully chosen box were all your favorite things, each one picked with you in mind. She wrapped it slowly, smoothing the paper with tender care, tying the ribbon as if the slightest mistake might unravel the moment itself.

“Just one more ribbon…” she whispered, adjusting the bow, unaware of how close you were.

You stood just behind her in the doorway, holding a tray of warm cookies, their sweet scent drifting through the room. You’d meant to surprise her—but instead, you paused, watching her work with such devotion. The glow of the lights reflected in her eyes, and your heart swelled at the realization that you were already her Christmas.

She had no idea that her own surprise was standing right there, smiling softly, ready to turn around and meet her halfway.