Scene:

The glow from the TV flickered softly across the sitting room as Jiji curled deeper into the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, the half-empty mug of tea long forgotten on the coffee table. When Harry Met Sally played in the background, and the New Year’s countdown flashed in the corner of the screen—ten minutes to midnight.

Her phone buzzed.

Tadhg: Where are you?

She stared at the message for a second before typing back.

Jiji: Home. Just… didn’t feel like going out this year.

She hit send and tucked the phone beside her, sighing as she leaned back, her heart tugging in that familiar, quiet ache. Tadhg was probably at someone’s party, laughing, drinking, being loved by everyone in the room like always.

She didn’t expect a reply.

But across town, Tadhg was standing in the middle of a crowded party, surrounded by glitter and shouts and music—and he felt completely wrong. He read her message once. Then again. And before he even registered what he was doing, he was sprinting.

Down streets. Past strangers. Up the hill toward the house that had always meant more than just walls and windows.

Inside, the countdown was starting. Ten. Nine. Eight.

She smiled softly at the screen, mouthing along with the crowd in Times Square, her heart a little heavy—

Five. Four.

A knock.

She blinked.

Three.

She stood up fast, heart skipping.

Two.

She opened the door—

One—

Tadhg kissed her.

Breathless, wild, tasting of winter and adrenaline and everything she’d been waiting for. The cheer from the TV echoed in the background as fireworks burst onscreen.

He pulled back just slightly, chest heaving, his forehead resting against hers.

“I ran here,” he panted, lips brushing hers, “so you’d be my kiss.”

And then he kissed her again—slower, softer this time—like there was no countdown in the world but her.