The radio crackled to life just after dusk.
Ethan stood in the kitchen, one hand braced on the counter as the static cleared. Bella paused mid-step, holding a folded blanket, her attention snapping to the sound.
"—roads remain partially cleared," a voice announced. "Travel is possible during daylight hours only. Another system may move in overnight. Residents are advised to remain cautious."
Ethan exhaled slowly and turned the radio down.
"So… we're not completely stuck," Bella said.
"No," he replied. "But it's not smart to leave tonight."
She nodded, surprised by the mix of relief and disappointment that settled in her chest. The idea that she could leave made everything feel suddenly fragile—like this quiet bubble might burst at any moment.
Lily wandered in wearing her pajamas, dragging her favorite blanket behind her like a cape. "Does that mean we're still having movie night?"
Ethan's shoulders loosened. "Yes. Movie night stays."
Lily cheered and climbed onto the couch, patting the space beside her. "Bella sits here."
Bella smiled and joined her, tucking the blanket around Lily's small shoulders. Ethan dimmed the lights and put on an old animated movie—one Bella remembered from her childhood, back when holidays felt simple and safe.
They watched in comfortable silence. Lily's laughter filled the room at all the right moments, and before long, her eyelids grew heavy. She leaned into Bella, head resting against her arm.
Ethan noticed instantly.
"She usually fights sleep," he murmured, half amused, half amazed.
Bella stroked Lily's hair gently. "Maybe she just feels… comfortable."
Ethan looked at them, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Maybe."
When the movie ended, Ethan carefully lifted Lily and carried her to bed. Bella watched from the couch, her chest tightening at the tenderness of the moment. The way he adjusted the blankets. The soft words he whispered before turning off the light.
When he returned, the cabin felt quieter—too quiet.
Bella folded the blanket slowly, unsure what to do with her hands, her thoughts.
"Thank you," Ethan said.
She looked up. "For what?"
"For being here. For her." He paused, then added quietly, "For me."
Her heart skipped.
"You don't owe me anything," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "That's why it matters."
They stood there, a few feet apart, the space between them charged with everything neither of them had said out loud. The fire popped softly, embers glowing low.
Bella broke the silence first. "Ethan… can I ask you something?"
He nodded. "Anything."
"Why did you really come back to Silver Pine?" Her voice was gentle, not accusing. "You could've gone anywhere."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He looked away, eyes settling on the dark window where snow still clung to the glass.
"I thought if I came back somewhere familiar," he said slowly, "everything else would stop hurting."
Bella swallowed. "Did it?"
He shook his head. "No. But Lily needed stability. And I needed… purpose."
She stepped closer, not touching him, but close enough to feel his warmth. "You're a good father."
He scoffed quietly. "I try."
"You do more than try," she said. "She feels safe with you. That's not nothing."
Ethan's breath hitched, just slightly. He turned to face her, eyes searching hers as if weighing a decision.
"Bella," he said, low and careful, "you should know… I don't do this. Letting people in. It doesn't come easily to me."
"I know," she replied. "I'm not asking you to be anything you're not."
"That's the problem," he said softly. "You don't ask. You just… show up."
The words settled between them, heavy and intimate.
Bella felt the pull then—stronger than before. Not just attraction, but understanding. A shared ache. A quiet hope.
For a heartbeat, she thought he might reach for her.
He didn't.
Instead, he stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "You should get some rest."
The rejection wasn't sharp. It was cautious. Protective. And somehow, that hurt more.
She nodded. "Goodnight, Ethan."
"Goodnight, Bella."
Later, in the guest room, Bella lay awake listening to the wind outside and the faint sounds of the cabin settling. Her thoughts replayed the night in fragments—Ethan's voice, Lily's laughter, the almost-touch that lingered in the air.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
This wasn't a holiday fling.
It wasn't harmless.
And it definitely wasn't simple.
In the next room, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.
He hadn't trusted himself to get closer.
Because if he did…
He wasn't sure he'd be able to let go.