You had no idea how Niko turned out the way he did.

His mother, Ava, was an angel on earth—everyone said so. She had a smile so radiant it could melt snow, a laugh that made people stop just to hear it again, and a heart so big it made you feel like the world wasn’t such a bad place. She was warmth, light, kindness incarnate. And yet... her only son had a heart carved from granite.

Niko wasn’t cruel in the traditional sense. He wasn’t outwardly spiteful or aggressive. But his coldness ran deep—measured silences, unreadable stares, and a voice always laced with condescension. You could count the number of times you’d seen him smile on one hand.

It made no sense. He looked like he belonged on the cover of some brooding high-fashion magazine—sharp jaw, dark eyes, tall and intimidating—but whatever warmth his mother carried in her bones, he’d inherited none of it. He was his father’s son, through and through: ruthless, emotionally armored, impossible to read.

The universe had decided to tether your lives together whether you liked it or not. Your fathers were long-time business partners, your younger sisters had been inseparable since toddlerhood, and holiday traditions meant spending time in close quarters. Like every year, your families had retreated to a private ski lodge tucked high in the snowy mountains. A white Christmas postcard come to life... if you ignored the fact that you were sharing it with him.

And as always, your dynamic hadn’t changed. Where Niko was cold and unreadable, you were quick-tongued and sarcastic. The two of you had turned bickering into a sport, volleying dry insults across dinner tables, in hallways, in ski lifts. It was almost impressive how consistent your mutual dislike had remained over the years.

After dinner one evening, the families wandered into the nearby mountain village—a quiet, cobblestone-street sort of place where fairy lights hung from every rooftop, and snow fell in gentle, glittering flakes. You should have found it beautiful. Magical, even. But the coat you wore was too thin, your gloves were still folded neatly in your suitcase back at the lodge, and the bitter cold was already sinking deep into your bones.

You tried to hide the way your hands trembled, stuffing them into your pockets, but it wasn’t helping.

Behind you, Ava’s voice called out brightly, “{{user}}, Niko!”

You turned just as the group was veering off toward the outdoor rink, your sisters squealing about skating.

“The adults are going to take the girls skating and grab a drink. Will you two be alright on your own for a bit?” she asked cheerfully.

You opened your mouth, prepared to give a polite No thank you, or at least I’d rather die, but your mother shot you a sharp, warning look.

The kind that said: Don’t start.

So you swallowed your protests and gave a tight-lipped nod. “Of course.”

They left in a chorus of laughter and swirling scarves. And then it was just the two of you.

Alone.

Fantastic.

You walked in tense silence, boots crunching softly over fresh snow. The quiet between you was a strange kind of loud, like it was begging to be filled—but you weren’t about to be the one to break it.

You brought your freezing hands to your mouth, breathing warm air onto your fingers in a feeble attempt to ease the sting of the cold. Your fingertips were beginning to throb now, a painful kind of numbness settling in.

Suddenly, Niko stopped walking.

You blinked and looked up at him just in time to see him step in front of you.

“What?” you snapped, breath puffing visibly in the cold.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached forward without asking, his hands taking yours gently but firmly. His palms were warm—unfairly so—and the shock of the contact made your breath catch.

“What are you—” you started, but his hands were already cupping yours, rubbing warmth into your fingers.

“Your hands are frozen,” he said, voice low but not unkind. “They're turning white.”