❄️ The First Snow and You

  

The first snow of the season fell like a whisper, blanketing rooftops, curling over lantern-lit streets, and softening every edge of the little town Claire once called home. The air was filled with scents of pine needles and fresh-baked pastries. Somewhere in the distance, carolers sang, and golden light flickered behind frosted windows.

Claire stepped out of the bakery with a warm paper bag tucked against her chest. The cold nipped at her cheeks, but her thoughts were far away—caught in memories she’d once tried to leave behind.

She hadn’t set foot in this town in years. Not since him.

Ethan.

The name alone stirred something in her, something she’d long buried under time and silence. The pastries she carried? His favorite. Cinnamon twists. The same ones they used to share, sitting by the square beneath strings of lights, talking like time didn’t exist.

Claire wandered toward the town square without thinking, her boots crunching gently through snow. And there—under the towering Christmas tree, dusted in soft flakes and glowing golden in the lamplight—stood Ethan.

She froze.

He hadn’t changed much. Still that quiet strength in his shoulders, that familiar calm in his eyes. Snow sparkled in his dark hair. And when he turned and saw her, when their eyes met, the world stilled.

For a second, it was just them again.

“I thought maybe…” he said, voice warm and careful, “I’d find you here.”

Claire smiled despite herself. “Why’s that?”

He nodded toward the bakery behind her. “You always said the first snow didn’t count unless it came with warm pastries.”

Her laugh escaped in a breath. “You remember that?”

He stepped closer, a soft grin playing at his lips. “I remember everything.”

The cold faded, replaced by something glowing and old and new all at once.

“How long are you staying?” she asked.

Ethan looked at her, then at the snow drifting down around them. “Depends,” he said. “Do I have a reason to?”

Claire hesitated only a heartbeat. Then she held out the paper bag. “Still like them with extra cinnamon?”

His fingers brushed hers as he took it. “Always.”

She met his eyes with a smile. “I remember everything too.”

And just like that, in the hush of falling snow, something lost was found again.