The snow fell steadily outside the cabin, coating the world in a soft, white blanket. Inside, you remained curled up on the couch, wrapped tightly in a blanket. A book rested in your hands, its pages turning slowly as your eyes finished skimming the words. While the others had gone out to ski, you decided to stay behind, unwilling to face the biting February cold.

The fire crackled softly nearby, its heat keeping the room cozy. But even the warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to push away the subtle weight in the air. You felt it when you saw Jean. The tension between the two of you had been building over the last few days, ever since the vacation had begun.

Jean wasn’t someone you could easily ignore, not when the space between you both felt so small, no matter the physical distance. You hadn’t said anything, and neither had he. But the tension—it was there, quietly simmering.

As you got lost in the story, the sound of his footsteps snapped you out of your reverie, your eyes peering over the top of your book. Jean approached with two steaming cups in hand, his eyes catching yours for a brief moment as you raised a brow.

Without saying a word, Jean handed you one of the mugs—a rich hot chocolate with marshmallows floating lazily on top, still gently swirling from the heat.

“Thought you might want some,” he muttered quietly, as he took a seat beside you on the couch.