The sky darkened by midday, turning a slate-gray as the first heavy snowflakes began to fall. Annalise had been walking through the town, her errands running longer than expected. By the time she reached the old bridge near the creek, the snowfall was heavier, coating rooftops and streets in thick, powdery white.
She tugged her scarf tighter and wished she had brought gloves. The cold bit through her coat, leaving her fingers numb, but there was no one around to offer help. Well… no one except Liam.
"Annalise!"
She turned to see him jogging down the street, his boots crunching in the fresh snow, cheeks flushed red from the cold. "You're out in this?" he called, breath forming clouds in the icy air.
"I… I forgot my gloves," she admitted, shivering. "And I didn't think it would snow this hard this fast."
He reached her side and offered his gloved hands. "Here. Take these. We'll get through this."
She hesitated, embarrassed, then placed her hands in his. His touch was warm, grounding, and she felt a flutter of something deep and old in her chest.
"We should head back," he said. "The snow's coming down too fast. It's not safe to be out here alone."
Before she could respond, a gust of wind sent a flurry of snow swirling around them. It was beautiful, almost magical, but also enough to make her teeth chatter. Liam gestured toward a nearby gazebo in the park, its roof heavy with snow but still providing shelter.
Inside, they shook off snow from their coats and sat down on the wooden bench. The warmth from their proximity was immediate. The snowstorm outside transformed the town into a quiet, frozen world, leaving them alone in a cocoon of soft light and muffled sound.
For a moment, silence stretched. Annalise watched the snow drifting past the open sides of the gazebo, the flakes like tiny diamonds suspended in the gray light. She could hear her own heartbeat, faster than usual, and the faint thrum of Liam's nearby.
"You've grown," he said suddenly, his voice low. "More… grounded. But still the same Annalise I remember."
She laughed softly, a little awkwardly. "Grounded? That's a new one."
"I mean it," he said, eyes locking onto hers. "You've changed in all the right ways. But you're still… you. Still the girl who wouldn't back down, who cared too much, who…" He trailed off, shaking his head, as if realizing he was revealing too much too soon.
She felt a blush creep up her cheeks. "You make it sound like I'm some fairy tale character."
"Maybe you are," he said, smiling, though there was a serious edge to it. "To me, you always have been."
The words made her chest tighten. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions in check. "You… you haven't changed either," she admitted. "You're still… steady. Still dependable. Still frustrating in ways I… I can't explain."
He leaned slightly closer, the heat from his coat brushing against her arm. "You used to say the same about me," he teased.
She laughed nervously. "I did?"
"You did. Ten years ago," he said. "And I've remembered it every year."
For a while, they just sat there, watching the snow fall, the world outside frozen and distant. Then Liam spoke again, his tone softer, almost vulnerable. "Do you ever think about that day… the day you left?"
Annalise flinched slightly, the memory prickling like cold needles against her skin. "Every day," she admitted quietly. "I regret it, Liam. I regret not telling you why. I regret leaving without saying anything. I…"
She paused, her voice catching. She wasn't used to opening herself up so fully, but somehow, here in the quiet, surrounded by snow and warmth, it felt right.
He reached across the bench, hesitating for a fraction of a second before taking her hand. "You don't have to apologize," he said. "Not now. Not ever. I… I've waited for you, and I've held onto hope. But I've also learned to understand that life sometimes pulls people apart. That's not your fault."
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. The warmth of his hand was grounding, a tether to the world she had abandoned years ago. "I… I never stopped thinking about you. About us."
"You didn't have to," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I felt the same. Every year, every winter… I hoped you'd come back."
The honesty of it, the raw emotion, made her heart ache. She hadn't expected him to say any of this, and yet here he was, confessing everything she had felt but never voiced.
They sat in silence again, but this time it was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding and shared memories. Slowly, Liam moved closer, his shoulder brushing hers. She didn't pull away.
"You were always the one I could talk to," he said softly. "And now… I don't want to let go again."
Her breath caught. "Neither do I," she admitted. "I… I don't know if I can, though. After everything, after all this time…"
"You can," he said firmly, tilting her chin up slightly so their eyes met. "We just have to try. That's all."
For the first time in years, Annalise allowed herself to relax completely, letting the tension melt from her shoulders. She could feel the bond between them strengthening again, delicate yet unbreakable, built over a decade of memories, longing, and unspoken feelings.
The snowstorm raged on outside, a wild swirl of white against the quiet town, but inside the gazebo, time seemed to stop. Their hands intertwined, warmth spreading through them both, and for the first time since her return, Annalise felt… safe.
Then, almost instinctively, Liam leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Their foreheads touched briefly, an intimate, gentle connection that spoke more than words ever could. Annalise closed her eyes, letting herself feel the moment—the comfort, the hope, the stirring of something more.
"You know," he whispered, "I've waited a long time to do this."
"Do what?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"To let you know… that you've always mattered. That you always will."
And in the quiet, snowy evening, under the soft glow of the lamplight, their first real connection—an unspoken promise, a tender beginning—blossomed. Neither spoke for a while, letting the moment linger, both acutely aware that this was the start of something new, fragile, and beautiful.
By the time the storm began to ease, Annalise and Liam were walking back toward the inn side by side, fingers brushing, hearts quietly synchronizing. The snow had transformed the town into a pristine, magical landscape, but it was the warmth between them, the rebuilding of trust and love, that made this winter truly unforgettable.