The frosty air nipped at your nose as you approached the house, its cheerful glow visible even through the lightly falling snow. Laughter and bursts of chatter drifted through the windows, a sure sign that Fred’s family was in full festive swing.

The door flew open before you could knock. Fred stood there, his signature grin wide and welcoming. His red hair gleamed in the soft light spilling from the hallway behind him.

“Well, it’s about time!” he said, mock-impatient. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about the best Christmas lunch of your life.”

The house was alive with warmth and color. Strings of enchanted fairy lights twinkled along the walls, and a massive Christmas tree stood in the corner, festooned with ornaments that ranged from the traditional to the utterly absurd.

“Here,” he said, plucking your coat off your shoulders with exaggerated flourish. “Welcome to chaos. My family’s already halfway through arguing over whose turn it is to set the table.”

You laughed, catching the sound of familiar voices from the next room. The scene was cozy, inviting, and exactly the kind of place you’d hoped to spend Christmas.

Fred nudged you with his elbow, leaning in conspiratorially. “Before we dive in, a warning: if anyone offers you a dessert and looks too eager about it, don’t trust it. Especially not from me.”

Before you could reply, a booming voice rang out from the next room. “Fred! Quit lurking in the hallway and bring your guest in! The gravy’s not going to serve itself!”

Fred rolled his eyes dramatically but grabbed your arm and tugged you toward the dining room. “C’mon, before they start another debate about who makes the best stuffing. Spoiler—it’s not Mum, but don’t tell her I said that.”

The dining room was a riot of food, decorations, and family. Plates piled high with steaming dishes covered the long wooden table, which was surrounded by Fred’s siblings, each more lively than the next.