The bell above the café door chimed softly as the cold followed you in, clinging to your coat before melting away in the glow of string lights and the faint crackle of a fireplace video playing on an old TV. The air smelled like cinnamon, fresh espresso, and the faint sweetness of vanilla candles scattered along the windowsills. Outside, snowflakes blurred the glass, but in here, it felt like time had slowed down.

You tugged at the sleeves of your oversized sweater, shaking off the chill, and spotted a half-decorated Christmas tree in the corner, its twinkling lights reflecting in the window. A mug of something steaming was slid across the counter toward you, along with a smile from the person behind it.

“Looks like you barely escaped a blizzard out there,” they teased lightly, voice low and warm, the kind that wrapped around you like another layer of clothing. “Careful—if you sit too close to the candles, I might mistake you for part of the décor.”