Finally, the twenty-fourth day of the twelfth month arrived. To some, the quiet glow of Christmas Eve held more magic than Yuletide itself.
The morning sun was pale, barely peeking through the thick white clouds that hung over the snowy northern region. The world outside the cottage was muffled under a soft blanket of snow.
Everything felt tranquil, the kind of peace that only came once a year, right before Christmas.
Inside the small cottage, the ambiance was relaxing. The clock ticked softly, striking a quarter past one in the afternoon. The radio played soft music fitting the celebration.
Lariette curled up on the couch with a thin blanket, her hair draped over one shoulder. She held one cup of tea in one hand while the other was scrolling through her phone.
She occasionally threw a glance at the closed sliding doors, looking at her beloved.
