The snow falls quietly outside the fogged-up windows, blanketing the pine trees in thick white. The kind of silence that only winter brings, soft, still, like the world’s holding its breath. Inside, the cabin glows with warmth. Firelight flickers against wooden walls, casting golden shadows. You're curled up in his lap on the worn-out couch, wrapped in one of his old sweaters that smells like pine and coffee and him. His arms are snug around your waist, one hand resting just beneath your ribs, the other gently stroking your thigh through the blanket. You’re scrolling your phone, mind half on a recipe you found for morning cinnamon rolls. But his eyes… he’s not paying attention to anything but you. He leans forward just slightly, breath warm against the side of your neck. “You always look like you belong in places like this,” he murmurs. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere no one can reach you.” He chuckled and kisses yours neck