Zero-Two bursts forth from the present, wearing a Christmas sweater and Santa hat. "Hi, darling! I'm your Christmas Present!" She says, her voice soft, but playful.

} wasn't watching, something in his expression tightened — a flicker of worry, a glance toward the dark hallways he refused to approach. Then he'd turn back with that radiant smile, as if holding the moment together by sheer will.* “Come on. Tonight, the world is ours.”

The "Glacial Gala" tent is a cathedral of cold, filled with the scent of frost and the sound of chisels singing against ice. My piece, "Solitude's Echo," is nearly complete. A perfect, intricate, hollow sphere within a sphere. Critics will call it a commentary on isolation. They’ll be right. It’s technically flawless. And it feels as empty as I do. Then, you walk in. You’re not with the press or the other artists. You’re just… exploring. You stop in front of a competitor’s cheesy ice swan, tilting your head with genuine appreciation. You don’t see the clumsy lines; you see the effort. When you finally reach my station, you go utterly still. You don’t say anything. You just look. You look at my sculpture for a full minute, your breath making little clouds in the air, and then your eyes find mine. In them, I don’t see critique or awe. I see a profound, gentle understanding. As if you can see the hollow sphere in my chest, too. “It’s the most beautiful, lonely thing I’ve ever seen,” you say, your voice soft but clear over the ambient noise. It feels like a chisel strikes directly into my ribs. No one has ever seen it so clearly. “It’s missing something,” I hear myself say, the words leaving me before I can stop them. “What?” “I don’t know yet.” The competition rules are strict: no assistance. But inspiration isn’t against the rules. You become my muse. You return every day, always with a hot coffee you hand me wordlessly, your own hands wrapped around a cup. You don’t offer suggestions. You just are. You talk about the winter light, about the smell of snow, about your childhood memories of building forts. And as you speak, I begin to carve. Not on my competition piece. On a small, secret block off to the side. The night before the final judging, I’m alone in the tent under the work lights. My competition piece is ready, a monument to cold perfection. But my heart is hammering. I send you a single text: "Come. Now." When you arrive, wrapped in a scarf, your cheeks flushed from the cold, I don’t speak. I simply take your hand—my own finally warm from work—and lead you to the hidden corner. I pull away the drape. It’s you. Not a literal portrait, but an essence. The flow of your hair in the wind, the curve of your smile, the graceful line of your neck. I’ve carved you in a pose of joyful abandon, arms slightly outstretched as if catching snowflakes. It’s not flawless like the sphere. It’s alive. It’s full of light and movement and warmth, despite being made of ice. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, tears welling instantly. “Julian… you…” “The competition piece is empty,” I say, my voice rough. I step closer, the cold of our creations swirling around us, but all I feel is heat. “Because I was empty. And then you walked in, and you… you thawed me.” I reach out, my thumb catching a tear as it falls. “I don’t care about the grant. I don’t care about winning. I carved this for you. Because you are the only permanent, beautiful thing I have ever wanted to hold onto. Everything else can melt.” You look from the sculpture of yourself, back to me, your eyes shining. “What are you saying?” “I’m saying I forfeit.” The words are a liberation. “I’m saying my greatest masterpiece won’t be in some gallery. It’ll be the life I build with you.” I cradle your face in my hands, my sculptor’s fingers infinitely gentle. “Let me be your artist. Let me spend a lifetime learning every curve and line of your happiness, and crafting my world around it.” You don’t answer with words. You rise onto your toes and kiss me. In a tent of ice, it’s a blaze of summer. It tastes of hope, of coffee, of a future I never dared to design. When we break apart, you press your forehead to mine. “Don’t forfeit,” you whisper, a fierce, loving command. “Win. For us. And then let’s build that life together.” And in that moment, holding you amidst the glistening ice, I know I already have.

*Light filters through red and green wrapping paper. The world is muffled, soft. You shift, and the paper above you rustles.* “Do you hear that?” *A voice, sweet and curious.* “It’s coming from the big one.” *Faye, the elf girl, leans in, her bells jingling softly.* “Did we forget a present?” *Noel, the reindeer girl, asks, her tone warm and nurturing.* “No. That one… wasn’t here last night.” *Frost, the blue-haired girl, states coolly, her analytical eyes narrowing.* *Suddenly, the paper above you is torn away.* *Light floods in. Six faces surround the box, peering down at you with wide, stunned eyes.* *Lumi, the silver-haired caretaker, her icy-blue eyes soft with concern, is the first to move. She reaches a hand down.* “Are you… alright?” *Faye bounces on her heels, her grin erupting.* “A person! We got a person! Best. Gift. Ever!” *Ember, the dark-haired guardian, places a steadying hand on the box’s edge, her gaze protective yet intrigued.* “How did you even get in there?” *Belle, the pink-haired heart of the group, smiles, and it feels like sunrise.* “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now and ours.” *Noel nods in gentle agreement, her antlers bobbing.* “You must be freezing. Let’s get you out of there.” *Frost simply watches, a faint, curious tilt to her head.* “Logistics aside… this is statistically improbable. Fascinating.” *Together, their hands reach down—gentle, eager, warm—pulling you from the box and into the glowing heart of their Christmas morning.*

} asked* "Well, I want YOU for Christmas, my love" *she replied huskily while tugging on her top, suggesting something else*

 Der Weihnachtsbaum funkelt im warmen Licht, während Katherine auf Zehenspitzen steht und eine der letzten Kugeln vorsichtig zwischen die Zweige hängt. Ihr rotes Minikleid bewegt sich leicht, der weiße Saum hebt sich weich vom Stoff ab. Als sie fertig ist, tritt sie einen Schritt zurück, betrachtet ihr Werk – und lächelt zufrieden. Im Hintergrund knistert noch kein Feuer im Kamin. Stattdessen sitzt du davor auf dem Boden, Geschenkpapier raschelt leise, während du ein Paket sorgfältig einwickelst. Kat dreht sich zu dir um, ihre Ohren zucken leicht, ihr Blick wird weich. „Fast fertig,“ sagt sie leise und kommt zu dir herüber. Sie bleibt einen Moment stehen, schaut auf die Geschenke, dann auf dich. Für einen Augenblick wirkt sie nachdenklich – fast so, als würde sie etwas abwägen. „Dieses Weihnachten fühlt sich irgendwie… besonders an,“ murmelt sie. Dann lächelt sie, ein wenig geheimnisvoller als zuvor, zwinkert dir leicht zu – und dreht sich von dir weg. Auf dem Weg Richtung Küche wirft sie dir noch einen kurzen Blick über die Schulter zu. „Unsere Eltern sind in etwa einer Stunde hier,“ sagt sie beiläufig, während sie sich eine Schürze greift. „Legst du schon mal etwas Weihnachtsmusik auf? Ich mach derweil das Essen fertig.“ Mit einem sanften Lächeln verschwindet sie in der Küche, leise summend.

_______________________________________________________________________________ *Your family is friends with Mary's family, and for Christmas, your family decided to invite Mary's family. Great, she's your ex. But how bad can it get? You've run to your room to seclude yourself. From here, everything was good until a knock on the door, followed by a soft-spoken voice, a voice you can make out anywhere in a crowd.*Hey, I was told to come stay here with you to keep you company, or something, can I, I-I, uhm, come in? *Her voice quivered as she awaited your discussion, knowing full well that she has no say whether you accept her or not, in her hand, unbeknownst to you was a little Christmas gift.* ______________________________________________________________________________

} entdeckte.* „Schatz! Hallo! Spürst du diese Stimmung? Es ist einfach weihnachtlich-magisch hier draußen!“ *Sie hüpfte fast zu ihm hinüber, ihre Begeisterung sprühte, als sie vor seinem Schreibtisch landete.* „Ich freue mich so, dass bald Weihnachten ist! Juhu! Ich kann es kaum erwarten, es mit dir zu verbringen!“ *Sie faltete dramatisch die Hände und ließ dann gespielt verzweifelt die Schultern sinken.* „Ugh, diese langweiligen Stunden … echt jetzt!“ *Plötzlich richtete sie sich auf und schenkte ihm ein strahlendes Grinsen.* „Aber … nur sechs Stunden, und dann sind wir nur zu zweit, und es herrscht absolute Weihnachtsstimmung! Ist das nicht einfach perfekt? Ich kann es kaum erwarten!“ *Ihre Augen funkelten schelmisch, als sie sich etwas näher beugte und ihre Stimme zu einem verspielten Flüstern senkte.* „Warte nur, bis du siehst, was ich dir dieses Jahr mitgebracht habe … Du wirst sprachlos sein. Hehe!“ *Sie kicherte, drehte ihre Weihnachtsmütze ein wenig, zwinkerte und ließ sich auf ihren Platz gleiten.* 

*The knock is soft, almost lost in the quiet of the falling snow. When you open the door, the cold rushes in—and so does she.* *Aiko stands on your step, her daughter Miya bundled beside her, asleep against her leg. Snow dusts Aiko’s dark hair and the white shawl draped over her festive red dress. Her amber eyes meet yours, holding a storm of calm exhaustion.* “Hey,” *she says, her voice steady but quiet.* “It’s me.” *She shifts Miya gently, the little girl stirring but not waking.* “It’s over. The divorce is final.” *She states it plainly, no drama, just fact.* “I know I should have called. But… can we come in?” *Her gaze doesn’t waver, but you see the vulnerability she’s trying hard to conceal.* “I’ll cook. I’ll clean. I won’t be in the way. I just… need a place to stay.”

*You stepped into the Davis household, immediately enveloped by the warmth and aroma of freshly baked treats. Alex's mom, Cassidy enveloped you in a tight hug, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.* "Sweetie, I'm so glad you could make it! We're going to have the most wonderful Christmas together." *Then Alex's aunt, Rachel swooped in, her laughter echoing off the walls as she playfully nudged Cassidy aside.* "Ah, finally! The guest of honor! Come on, let's get you settled." *She linked her arm through yours, steering you deeper into the house. Every few steps, she'd toss back a comment or a joke, clearly enjoying being the center of attention – and having you as her captive audience.* *But as the minutes ticked by, Alex's absence began to feel noticeable. Cassidy checked her watch for what felt like the hundredth time.* "Oh dear, Alex is running late. She should've been home hours ago." *Just then, the front door swung open, and Alex burst in, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. Her gaze swept past her mom, who was beaming proudly, to Rachel...who was standing perilously close to you, giggling at something you hadn't even said. Alex's face turned a deep shade of crimson.* "Hey," *she muttered, avoiding eye contact. She quickly shed her coat, revealing a frazzled librarian uniform underneath. The room fell silent, except for the soft clinking of ornaments on the tree.* *Cassidy rushed forward, enveloping Alex in a hug.* "Sweetheart! We were just waiting for you." *The coffee table was laden with an assortment of sugary delights, courtesy of Cassidy's famous baking skills. Alex groaned inwardly, mortified by the sheer quantity.* *Rachel winked at Alex, clearly amused by her discomfort.* "Looks like someone's feeling overwhelmed! Why didn't you tell me your friend was so cute!" *Rachel giggles and touches your arm playfully* *Without hesitation, Alex grabbed your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours.* "Come on," *she whispered, pulling you toward the staircase.* "I've got something for you." *Upstairs, Alex closed the door behind you both, letting out a sigh of relief. Her room was cozy, decorated with fairy lights and a few scattered photos of the two of you throughout the years. On her desk sat a neatly wrapped gift, adorned with a handmade card bearing your name. She picked it up, holding it out to you, her hand trembling slightly.* "I'm really sorry about all this," *she blurted, gesturing vaguely towards the door, where the sounds of her family's chatter and laughter still filtered up.* "I know Mom's just being... Mom. And Aunt Rachel... well, she's just..." *Alex trailed off, shaking her head. She looked genuinely apologetic.* "I'm really glad you're here, though. I was worried you'd spend Christmas alone, and I wanted it to be special." *She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, clearly flustered.* "I didn't expect Aunt Rachel to...you know. She can be...a lot. Anyway, here is your gift!"