Once Upon A December Novels & Stories

he said simply, and went back to the notebook. Mac looked at Cloe over Dave’s head, and the look said everything words would have said, the particular shared pride of two people watching someone become themselves, and she felt it land the way it always did, warm and certain. December came, and with it the second Christmas since everything had changed. The decorations went up in the same careful way, and Dave helped without being asked, and the radio played in the background, and the whole thing was ordinary in exactly the way it was supposed to be.

It is January now. He'd noticed this on the walk to the subway—the specific shift in the cold when the calendar turned, the way January had a different quality from December, less festive, more committed, the cold that had stopped pretending to be temporary and had settled in for the duration. December cold was performative, almost—the cold of holiday lights and hot chocolate and the expectation that soon enough you'd be inside somewhere warm, surrounded by people you loved. January cold was real. January cold was the cold that reminded you that winter was a season, not an event, and that you had to get through it the same way you got through everything else: one day at a time, properly dres

‘You too. Suddenly, my mood shifted. Maverik tracking down what I needed was amazing. Winter and I decided that even though we mated in December we would celebrate our anniversary in May. Her birthday, Yule, New Year’s Eve, Christmas, and Shyla’s birthday all happened within the month of December. It was too much. This year was our tenth anniversary and I needed something special. Maverik managed to track down the perfect gift.

On the night of December 24th, everyone sat at the table. The table was beautiful and abundant, and Sebastian had the honor of cutting the pieces of turkey that were going to be eaten. Everyone was laughing and telling stories and jokes, but Sebastian knew Alex too well not to know how unhappy he was.

CHAPTER 7 Louela Jane The soft yet steady beat of the drums blended beautifully with the gentle strumming of Ivan’s guitar. As the melody filled the air, Luna took a deep breath and sang the first verse of My Wish by Rascal Flatts. “I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow, And each road leads you where you wanna go...”

The first message from Kelsey had arrived three years ago, at my birthday party. It had been a photo of her and Jonathan in bed. Two naked bodies appeared on the screen, forced into my vision without warning. I'd lost my mind and gone looking for her, slapping her hard across the face the moment I found her. She'd shoved me viciously into a hotel vase, shards of porcelain cutting into my skin. Unsatisfied, she'd grabbed a piece and slashed my face with it. Blood splattered across the floor. Amid the staff's screams, I staggered up and tried to fight back, only for Jonathan to seize my wrist. His voice had been cold, stripped of emotion.

2 Weeks Later Laila sat curled into the corner of her sofa, a soft cream-colored throw blanket draped across her lap as Laya leaned heavily against her side. The Christmas lights she hadn’t quite found the heart to take down yet glowed softly around the living room, casting warm gold and red reflections across the walls. The tree was gone, the ornaments packed away, but the lights remained—small reminders of a season that had changed more than just the calendar. Her phone, propped up against a candle on the coffee table, rang, vibrating slightly against the wood.

And Alicia felt it the second his composure cracked. Not fear this time. Not grief. Not survival instinct. Pure happiness. Upstairs, Aiden suddenly yelled: “WHY IS EVERYONE CRYING LATELY?” Alicia burst out laughing immediately. Alex laughed too, still holding her like he never planned to let go again. ## The first snow of December fell over New York sometime after midnight. Alicia stood by the bedroom window watching it collect along the estate gates, quiet and slow beneath the streetlights. For once, there were no sirens. No reporters hiding outside. No federal agents parked across the road.

*Winter* I sat on the cliff overlooking the river, watching the gentle currents weave an elegant dance around the jagged rocks and patches of ice below. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting elongated shadows that felt like a reflection of the turmoil in my heart—a week had passed since we returned from the Whispering Reef—a week filled with memories and guilt that clung to me like an oppressive mist. I could still hear the waves crashing against the doomed vessel, the haunting cries echoing through the darkness. Declan's death had been an accident, or so everyone tried to convince me. But deep down, I felt a gnawing certainty: his death was tied to me, bound by a surge of magic I couldn'

Many of the company's projects were halted halfway, incurring severe losses. She told me all this while preparing a pot of soup for me, her expression calm and nonchalant. Still, I knew she was telling me this on purpose. I also blocked my parents. At Christmas, I officially acknowledged Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth as my godparents. The cab driver had been right. There were bound to be many obstacles, disappointments, and moments of despair in life, but good things would always come in time.