1: Familiar Strangers

Three weeks earlier—

“Good morning everyone. I present your latest weather update……”

I hear my mom watching today’s weather forecast as soon as I come out of my room. I can see that she’s being considerate by putting it on low volume so I wouldn’t hear it from my room. I did work overtime last night. It’s been very hectic at work because holidays are coming up soon. I dread this season so much.

“……… bringing it with heave snowfall and lowest temperature in history”.

Don’t they ever get tired of saying that every year honestly. They said that last year and the year before that and the year before that as well. It’s always the “coldest” around this time of the year. By now, I would have assumed they found a new word for that. I shiver a little as I sneeze when the coldness hit me.

“Ah-Choo!” I let out a rather loud sneeze startling my mom.

“Goodness gracious. You scared me!”

“Honey, you’re up early. Didn’t you work late night?” She makes a rather confused look as if me waking up is a rare occurrence.

“I think it’s going to be hot today,” she adds.

“It’s Wednesday. I still have work today and good morning, Mom,” she scoffs amusedly as I roll my eyes.

“Good morning, baby,” she smiles.

“You are literally listening to the weather forecast right now,” my eyes are also on the TV as I sit at the table.

“Who knows, they could be wrong,” she smiles and hands me my breakfast. “Why do you look grumpy?” my mom asks me, seeing my sour face.

“Nothing, just woke up on the wrong side,” I groan as I reached for my plate, not wanting my mom to know that my relationship is probably hanging by a thread. She’d be overjoyed. She never liked my boyfriend.

Yes, my favorites as always. Just plain old baked beans with sausage and a sunny-side-up egg.

I can’t stop glancing at my phone every ten seconds because I had a huge fight with him last night and he hasn’t got the decency to check up on me after everything that went down last night.

I sigh as I finish up my breakfast quickly and thank my mom before I get ready for work.

I didn’t expect to wake up earlier than usual either, so I might as well go chill in the café right across the building from my office while I check some of my emails. Their caramel lattes are something to die for. I don’t know what they put in there, but something is definitely different.

I can declare for sure, I will die if I don’t have their coffee before I have to put up with my abrasive boss. Especially after the fight last night, I really need a clear head before I set foot into the building, or I’ll end up doing things that I will regret later.

The cold air nips at my cheeks the moment I step outside. It’s ridiculous how the weather forecast says “record low temperature” every single year, yet every single year I’m still surprised when the cold pierces straight through my coat like it’s made of wet tissue paper.

The café across the street is already bustling with the usual early-bird office workers. Warm light spills out onto the snow-dusted pavement, and I swear, if I didn’t have bills to pay, I’d marry this place.

Also, I thank my past self every day for getting a job so close to my house, which is only a twenty-minute walk. That also means my favorite café is near my house.

The café smells like heaven. Caramel lattes and baked pastries. Warm air greets me as I push the door open. The moment I step inside, I notice the barista behind the counter, flipping cups and steaming milk with effortless skill. He’s tall, sharp-eyed, and somehow manages to look composed even as the place bustles with the morning rush.

I can’t help but notice him again—he always seems to know my order. No matter how crowded it gets, no matter how chaotic the café becomes, he somehow remembers: my usual caramel latte, extra foam, warm, not scalding. It’s a small thing, but it makes me pause for a second. How does he do it? It’s busy here all the time, and yet… he knows.

I catch him glancing at me with a faint smile as he sets the cup down in front of me. “The usual,” he says, as if confirming something already obvious.

“Thanks,” I murmur, a little distracted. I can’t tell if I’m impressed or slightly unsettled by how he seems to notice me in a way nobody else does.

I grab my latte and sit by the window, watching the snow swirl outside. For a few minutes, I let myself forget the argument, the stress, the heartbreak. It’s just me, the warmth of the cup between my hands, and the soft white world outside.

It’s peaceful. Almost.

The caramel latte is perfect—as always. Sweet, warm, soft on the tongue, and comforting enough to make me forget that I fell asleep with tears dried on my cheeks. My boyfriend still hasn’t texted. Still hasn’t apologized. Still hasn’t asked if I’m okay.

My stomach twists.

I shove the thought away and focus on my inbox instead—a mistake, because the first thing I see is a message from my boss sent at exactly 2:13 a.m.:

“Reminder: prepare the quarterly summary and investor packets before noon. We need all documents ready for the board immediately.”

Before noon?

It’s a Wednesday morning.

The quarterly summary takes at least five hours without interruptions—and I’m his assistant, not a magician. I take a long sip of my latte, letting the caramel warmth anchor me before I even think about stepping foot into the office.

The lobby is decorated with silver Christmas garlands. Everyone looks way too cheerful for my liking—coats dusted with snow, cheeks pink, hands wrapped around warm drinks. Fake joy. Forced holiday spirit. I’m not sure if it’s the season or just my mood, but everything feels too bright.

The moment I step out of the elevator onto the 14th floor, the chaos hits me.

Phones ringing.

Printers jamming.

People typing like their keyboards personally offended them.

And then—

“Selene!”

My boss’s voice cuts through the air like a guillotine blade.

I flinch before I even see him. Mr. Everett is already speed-walking toward me, his tablet in one hand and a stack of folders in the other. His hair is windswept, his tie is crooked, and he looks like he’s survived a tornado.

So, in other words, completely normal.

“Where have you been?” he snaps without even saying good morning. “We have a crisis.”

“It’s 8:45, Mr. Everett. Office hours start at—”

“No time, no time.” He practically shoves the folders into my arms. I barely catch them before they topple onto the floor. “I need you to finalize the quarterly summary, prepare the investor packets, merge the slides for the board meeting, reschedule my three P.M., and confirm the interview logistics with HR.”

My eye twitches.

All of this… before noon?

“That’s… a lot,” I say carefully.

He stops walking long enough to give me a look—a very dramatic, incredulous, borderline offended look.

“It’s Christmas season, Selene. Investors expect results. Deadlines don’t care about the holidays.”

I want to tell him that I care about the holidays. Or at least I would, if my life weren’t falling apart. But I keep my mouth shut and follow him into his office. It’s a disaster zone. Papers everywhere. Coffee cups that should’ve been thrown out two weeks ago. Sticky notes stuck to random surfaces that mean absolutely nothing unless he explains them, which he never does.

“Also,” he adds casually while tapping furiously on his tablet, “I moved the board meeting from next week to today. 1 P.M.”

I freeze mid-step.

“…Today?”

“Yes, today,” he repeats, as if I’m the one who’s insane. “The chairman is flying out tonight. We need everything ready before he leaves. And by ‘we’, I mean you.”

Fantastic.

Spectacular.

Lovely.

I drop my bag at my desk and immediately start working. Emailing. Printing. Formatting. Re-formatting because apparently Arial isn’t ‘energetic enough.’ Getting yelled at by the printer. Yelling back at the printer. Typing until my fingers cramp.

By 10:15 a.m., I’ve only finished half the summary.

By 11:40, I’ve completed two emergency tasks he forgot to tell me about.

By noon, I’m on the verge of tears when the spreadsheet freezes, and my computer starts humming like it wants to explode.

I can feel a stress migraine blooming behind my eyes.

Mr. Everett pops his head out of his office every ten minutes like a meerkat on caffeine.

“Selene? Slides done?”

“Selene? Did you add the profit forecast?”

“Selene? Did you print the binders?”

I briefly consider quitting on the spot and living off caramel lattes for the rest of my life.

By 12:47 p.m., I slap the finished document onto his desk with shaking hands.

He flips through it casually, nodding.

“Good. This will do.”

This will do.

Five hours of panic and chaos condensed into three words.

“Great work,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

It’s the closest thing to praise he’s ever given me, so I take it.

When he finally leaves for the board meeting, the office erupts in collective relief. Chairs squeak as people lean back. Someone laughs for the first time all morning. Someone else pulls out snacks like we’re celebrating the end of a war.

I sink into my seat, exhausted.

Three weeks earlier…

Before everything falls apart…

Before the night I run through the snow bleeding and terrified…

I didn’t know then that these mediocre work problems would be nothing compared to what was coming.

My phone buzzes on my desk.

My heart leaps.

Him.

Finally.

I stare at the small notification, my chest tightening. It’s only one message.

“We should talk soon. Before Christmas.”

My throat goes dry.

Part of me wants to scream at him for disappearing after last night’s fight. Another part wants to hug him until every fear melts away. I hate that he still has this power over me. I hate that my heart reacts before my mind does.

But… Christmas is coming.

And despite everything—

despite the pain, the arguments, the worry—

I still love him.

I still want us to work.

I still want something special.

Something hopeful.

Something normal.

Something that doesn’t end with me running for my life in the snow.

I text him back quietly:

“Yeah… let’s talk. I want to see you too.”

For now, that’s enough.

I hope it will be.