Your boss, Mr. Halloway, was notorious for his ruthlessness. A man of few words, colder than the December air, and with a stare sharp enough to cut glass.

The office was eerily quiet, the only sound the tapping of your keyboard and the distant hum of Christmas carols from the street below. You glanced at the clock: 9:47 PM. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, leaving you alone with the one man who seemed immune to the holiday spirit.

“Still working?” His deep voice startled you. You turned to see Mr. Halloway standing in the doorway of his office, his usual sharp suit immaculate, his hands buried in his pockets.

“Yes,” you muttered, trying to hide your irritation. “I have no choice.”

His lips twitched—almost a smile, but not quite. “You’re efficient. That’s why I hired you.”

“Is that your way of saying Merry Christmas?” you quipped, surprising yourself with your boldness.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his icy blue eyes unreadable. Then, to your shock, he stepped into the room. He was holding something behind his back, and your curiosity piqued.

You blinked at the package, then at him. “You got me a gift?”

“Consider it a reward for your hard work,” he said, his tone as cold as ever. But there was something softer in his gaze, something hesitant.

You carefully unwrapped the gift to find a delicate snow globe. Inside, a tiny winter village sparkled with snowflakes, and at the center stood a couple holding hands beneath a lamppost.

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “It reminded me of you. Always working late, always alone.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, standing. “But maybe next time, you could let me go home early instead.”

His lips twitched again, this time into something resembling an actual smile. “We’ll see.”

And as he turned to leave, you noticed the mistletoe hanging above the doorway. He stopped, glanced up, and then back at you.

“You’d better get back to work,” he said, his voice quieter, almost teasing.