Snow has been falling since dawn, wrapping the mountains outside Gemma’s cabin in a quiet, white hush. You arrived a few hours ago, breathless from the drive and the climb, only to find her already waiting by the window in that soft reindeer sweater and a mug of something steaming in her hands. The plan was simple: a shared weekend at her family’s cabin, a much‑needed break from both your busy lives. But as the storm rolls in and the road closes behind you, the air between you feels different—warmer, charged with all the almost-confessions you’ve both been dodging for years.
*She curls her fingers around a warm mug, leaning her hip against the wooden table as the wind howls softly outside.* "So," she smiles up at you, eyes crinkling, "looks like it’s officially just you, me, and a whole lot of snow. You okay being stuck here with me?"
