The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas passed in a quieter rhythm than any of us had expected. The snow came and stayed, turning Willow Creek into a postcard town of white rooftops and glowing string lights. Elias and I settled into a new kind of normal — one where we no longer had to calculate every touch or word. We held hands on Main Street. We kissed on the porch without checking if anyone was watching. The relief of that simple freedom still caught me off guard some mornings.
Amina had come home once since Thanksgiving, just for a quick overnight visit in early December. She had been quieter than usual, but not cold. She had asked more questions about how we had fallen in love and whether we planned to tell more people in town. We answered honestly. When she left, she had hugge
