The village had come alive with the spirit of Christmas. A week remained until the holiday, yet every corner already buzzed with energy. Wreaths adorned doorways, twinkling lights draped across windows, and the scent of spiced pastries lingered in the crisp winter air. Music played from speakers set up near the marketplace, a cheerful melody drifting through the streets, mixing with the laughter of children chasing each other through the snow-dusted paths.
Dalian paused outside their home, taking in the sight of their modest front porch, where Aunt Beatrice had hung a simple garland along the railing. It wasn't extravagant, but it brought warmth to the house—a small effort to make the season feel a little less empty.
Inside, the atmosphere was just as lively. Diane sat at the table, flipping through a book with one hand while sipping tea with the other. The baby, now more curious than ever, babbled happily in his little playpen, waving his tiny hands at the blinking lights they had strung up the day before.
Aunt Beatrice, ever the practical one, stood near the window, folding laundry while keeping a watchful eye on the street outside. "The village committee is organizing a gathering this weekend," she mentioned, her voice even as always. "They're asking for volunteers to help with the final decorations."
Dalian perked up. "Can we go?"
Diane barely glanced up from her book. "You mean you want to go."
Dalian rolled her eyes, already expecting the response. "Fine, I want to go. But you should come too."
Before Diane could protest, Aunt Beatrice spoke up. "It wouldn't hurt to participate. It's good to be involved with the community."
Dalian grinned in victory, turning to Diane expectantly.
Diane sighed, closing her book with a resigned air. "Alright, alright. I'll go."
The weekend promised to be filled with festive preparations, and for the first time in a while, it felt like they were stepping into something lighter—something worth looking forward to.
The weekend arrived with a crisp chill in the air, but the village was anything but cold. Laughter and music filled the streets as people bustled about, hanging garlands, setting up wooden stalls, and adjusting the last of the decorations. The scent of roasted nuts, spiced cider, and freshly baked bread drifted from vendors setting up their stands for the upcoming festivities.
Dalian and Diane walked toward the town square, where a large pine tree stood at the center, waiting to be adorned with ornaments and twinkling lights. Aunt Beatrice had stayed behind with the baby, but she made them promise to return before sunset.
"I still don't know how you convinced me to come," Diane murmured, pulling her coat tighter against the cold.
Dalian smirked. "You act like being outside for a few hours is a tragedy."
Diane shot her a look but said nothing as they arrived at the gathering. A small group of volunteers—mostly teenagers and a few parents—were already hard at work. Lydia waved enthusiastically when she spotted them, rushing over with a bundle of ribbons in her arms.
"Finally! You're here! I was starting to think you'd changed your minds." She shoved the ribbons into Dalian's hands before turning to Diane with an exaggerated frown. "And you—how did she manage to drag you here?"
Diane sighed, taking one of the ribbons from Dalian and twirling it between her fingers. "I'm starting to ask myself the same question."
Lydia laughed. "Well, you're here now, so no backing out. We're in charge of decorating the main tree."
Dalian's eyes lit up. "The big one? That's actually kind of exciting."
Lydia led them over to a table filled with ornaments—hand-painted baubles, strands of dried citrus, cinnamon sticks tied with twine, and tiny carved figurines.
"Most of these were made by villagers," Lydia explained, picking up a delicate wooden reindeer. "Some of these are years old—passed down through families. It's tradition to add something new every year."
Dalian traced her fingers over a glass bauble painted with a winter scene. There was something deeply sentimental about it, the way every ornament had a history, a story.
"Come on," Lydia said, nudging them forward. "We've got a tree to dress."
They spent the next hour hanging decorations, climbing small ladders to reach the higher branches. The more they worked, the livelier the atmosphere became. People sang along to the Christmas music playing from a nearby speaker, children darted between adults, and every so often, someone would pass by with trays of hot chocolate, offering steaming cups to the volunteers.
Dalian took a sip from her own cup, the warmth spreading through her fingers. "This is the most festive I've felt in years."
Lydia grinned. "That's the point! Christmas is all about warmth, even when it's freezing outside."
Diane, who had been quietly tying ribbons onto a branch, glanced down at them. "It's just a tree," she said, but there was no real bite in her voice.
Lydia wiggled her brows. "Maybe, but it's a magical tree."
Dalian giggled, bumping her shoulder against Diane's. "Come on, admit it—you're at least a little glad you came."
Diane shook her head but didn't deny it.
As the sky deepened into shades of gold and lavender, the final decorations were placed. The moment the last ribbon was tied, the mayor of the village stepped forward, giving a small speech about the importance of tradition and togetherness.
Then, with a flick of a switch, the lights on the tree flickered to life.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the warm glow illuminated the square, reflecting off the ornaments, casting a golden shimmer across the snow-dusted ground.
Dalian stared up at the sight, her breath catching. It wasn't the grand, extravagant celebrations of their past, but it was something. Something warm, something real.
She glanced at Diane, who stood quietly beside her, eyes fixed on the tree.
For the first time in a long time, Dalian saw something soften in her sister's expression—something almost like peace.
The three of them walked side by side, their steps unhurried as they made their way home. The village square behind them still glowed with festive lights, the distant hum of music fading into the crisp night air. Their breath curled in soft puffs of white as they talked, the cold nipping at their cheeks.
Dalian swung her arms slightly, still caught up in the warmth of the evening. "That was nice," she mused, glancing at Diane. "You have to admit, it wasn't that bad."
Diane gave a small shrug, tucking her hands deeper into her coat pockets. "It was fine," she said, her voice neutral, but Dalian caught the way her gaze lingered on the twinkling lights in the distance.
Lydia, ever the observer, smirked. "That's practically a glowing review coming from her," she teased, nudging Diane lightly with her elbow.
Diane rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
Then, just as they turned onto a quieter street, a voice called out behind them.
"Diane!"
She stopped mid-step, her brow furrowing as she turned toward the sound. Under the soft glow of a streetlamp stood Jack, his breath visible in the cold air. He jogged toward them, his expression unreadable, though there was something eager in the way he moved.
Diane's shoulders tensed. "What are you doing here?" Her voice wasn't hostile, but it held a cool edge, guarded.
Jack slowed to a stop in front of them, hands in the pockets of his coat. His usual confidence flickered into something more hesitant. "I saw you guys passing by and thought I'd say hi."
Lydia, watching the scene unfold, bit back a knowing grin. She didn't miss the way Jack's eyes flickered toward Diane first, how he shifted slightly as if trying to find an excuse to stay longer.
"Saw us passing by?" Lydia echoed, tilting her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You mean you followed us, right?"
Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe a little," he admitted. "But can you blame me?" His gaze flickered to Diane, his smile easy but testing the waters.
Diane sighed, already tired. "Jack, if you—"
But before she could finish, Dalian, who had been silent until now, spoke.
"You ran all the way here just to say hi?"
Her tone wasn't mocking, just curious. Her dark eyes studied him, as if trying to unravel something unseen. There was something almost searching in the way she looked at him—like she was seeing him differently for the first time.
Jack met her gaze, surprised, as if only now realizing she was paying attention to him. He opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating under her steady stare.
Lydia, ever the troublemaker, looked between them and smirked. "Well, someone is awfully dedicated."
Jack huffed a small laugh, shifting on his feet. "What can I say? I like good company." His eyes flickered briefly toward Diane again, but Dalian was still watching him, unreadable.
Diane exhaled, deciding she had enough of whatever this was. "Alright, well, you said hi. Now we're going home."
Jack hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but after a beat, he nodded. "Yeah… okay. See you at school, then?"
Diane gave a curt nod, already turning away.
Lydia winked at him. "Better luck next time, loverboy."
Jack laughed under his breath, shaking his head before walking off into the night.
Dalian watched him go, her fingers curling slightly in her coat pocket. Something about him lingered in her mind, though she couldn't quite place why.
As they stepped through the front door, the warmth of the house embraced them, a welcome contrast to the crisp evening air outside. The faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air—Aunt Beatrice must have been baking again. Diane barely had time to shrug off her coat before Dalian started.
"Jack is so handsome," she breathed, her voice full of wonder as she leaned against the wall, lost in thought.
Diane froze mid-motion, giving her sister a wary glance. "What?"
Dalian sighed dreamily, dropping onto the couch as if her legs had given out. "His eyes, Diane. Did you see his eyes? So deep, so intense… I mean, wow." She clutched a cushion to her chest, her face heating as she replayed the moment he looked at her.
Lydia, who had just kicked off her shoes, let out a laugh. "Oh no… it's happened."
Diane raised a brow, unimpressed. "What's happened?"
"She's completely gone." Lydia smirked, pointing at Dalian, who was still staring off into space. "Jack got her."
Diane sighed, shaking her head. "Dalian, you don't even know him."
"I want to, though!" Dalian sat up suddenly, grabbing Diane's arm. "Tell me about him! What's he like? What does he like? Does he have a girlfriend?"
Diane scowled, yanking her arm free. "How should I know?"
Lydia plopped down beside Dalian, grinning. "Oh, this is fun. Dalian in love." She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.
Dalian groaned but didn't deny it. Instead, she flopped back against the couch, covering her face with her hands. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I never feel this way about anyone."
Lydia nudged her. "Well, you do now."
Dalian peeked out between her fingers. "Do you think he even noticed me?"
Lydia snorted. "You grilled him with those deep, mysterious stares of yours. Pretty sure you left an impression."
Dalian groaned again, rolling onto her side, gripping the cushion like it was her lifeline. "I think I'm in trouble."
Diane sighed, rubbing her temple. "You think?"
Aunt Beatrice entered the room then, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at Dalian's dramatic sprawl and frowned. "What's wrong with her?"
Lydia grinned. "Love."
Aunt Beatrice sighed, shaking her head. "Oh dear."
Aunt Beatrice shook her head, letting out a small sigh as she walked past them toward the kitchen. "I was hoping you two would focus on your studies, not boys."
Dalian groaned into the cushion. "I am focused. I can focus and admire a handsome face at the same time."
Lydia burst into laughter, nearly toppling off the couch, while Diane rolled her eyes. "It's been one day, Dalian. You don't even know if he remembers your name."
Dalian sat up, her expression determined. "Then I'll make sure he does."
Aunt Beatrice peeked out from the kitchen doorway, raising an eyebrow. "You sound like you're going off to war."
Lydia wiped a tear from her eye, grinning. "Well, love is a battlefield."
Aunt Beatrice exhaled heavily, muttering something under her breath before disappearing back into the kitchen.
Dalian turned to Diane, her eyes practically sparkling. "You'll help me, right?"
Diane scoffed. "With what?"
"With him!" Dalian flailed her arms dramatically. "You're in his group. You'll be seeing him all the time."
Diane deadpanned. "That's the worst reason ever."
Lydia leaned in, smirking. "Come on, Diane. It wouldn't kill you to ask a few innocent questions."
Diane looked between them, unimpressed. "If you want to talk to him, do it yourself."
Dalian pouted. "But I don't know what to say! I'll look stupid."
Diane sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Dalian, if he's worth anything, he'll like you for who you are. And if he doesn't, then who cares?"
Dalian huffed, collapsing back against the couch. "That's such a you answer."
"Because it's the answer."
Lydia clapped her hands together. "Well, we'll just have to accidentally run into him more often."
Diane shot her a look. "Do not involve me in this."
Dalian groaned again, dramatically rolling onto her side. "I'm doomed."
Lydia patted her back with mock sympathy. "Yes, but at least it's entertaining."
From the kitchen, Aunt Beatrice called out, "If you three are done scheming, come set the table."
Diane immediately got up, eager to escape the conversation, while Dalian let out one final dreamy sigh before dragging herself up.
Lydia, however, wiggled her eyebrows at Dalian. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out."
Dalian bit her lip, excitement flickering in her eyes.
Oh dear, indeed.