Lydia gave their hands one last reassuring squeeze before standing. "Alright, that's enough sitting around like sad little snowmen. You don't have to celebrate like before, but you're not spending today moping either. Come on."
Dalian blinked up at her. "Where?"
Lydia grinned. "You'll see."
Before they could protest, she tugged Dalian up from the bench, and with one final glance at Diane—challenging her to resist—she pulled her along as well. Diane sighed but didn't resist, letting herself be led toward the house.
Inside, warmth enveloped them instantly. The scent of spiced tea and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the faintest hint of pine. The living room was aglow with soft golden lights, their gentle flicker reflecting off the polished wooden floors.
Aunt Beatrice stood in the kitchen, wearing an apron dusted with flour, her hands busy kneading dough. "Ah, there you are!" She beamed at them, her face glowing with the kind of warmth that softened even the hardest of hearts. "Perfect timing. I could use some extra hands."
Mr. Gerald appeared from the other room, his voice deep and cheerful. "And I need some taste testers." He held up a tray of freshly baked cookies, their edges golden brown, the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the space.
Dalian's stomach rumbled, breaking the silence.
Lydia smirked. "I think that's a yes."
Aunt Beatrice wiped her hands on her apron and approached them. "I know today isn't easy for you girls." Her voice was soft, filled with quiet understanding. "But Christmas isn't just about the past. It's also about the present—the people still here, the love still surrounding you."
Diane lowered her gaze, her throat tight.
Dalian bit her lip, nodding. "We know…"
Aunt Beatrice reached out, tucking a loose strand of Diane's hair behind her ear like a mother would. "Then let us make new memories today. No one's asking you to forget, but let's not let sadness take this day away from you too."
Diane swallowed, her heart aching.
Lydia clapped her hands together. "Exactly! Now, who's ready to bake?"
Dalian hesitated, then smiled—small but genuine. "I guess I could help."
Diane exhaled and nodded. "Alright."
The kitchen buzzed with movement, the air thick with the sweet scent of cinnamon and freshly kneaded dough. Dalian pressed her palms into the soft flour-dusted surface, attempting to roll the dough into something remotely even. Beside her, Lydia clutched the rolling pin with the determination of a warrior, only for it to slip from her grip, sending a chunk of dough flying onto the counter.
Dalian burst into laughter. "Lydia, that's not how you do it!"
Lydia huffed, wiping flour off her cheek with the back of her hand. "Excuse me, Miss Perfect, I'd like to see you try."
Dalian lifted her chin. "Gladly." She rolled the dough—too forcefully—causing it to tear in the middle.
Lydia smirked. "Oh yes, so much better."
Across the room, Mr. Gerald stood beside Diane, guiding her hands as she carefully shaped cookie dough into perfect rounds. His voice, a low and steady hum, matched the melody of an old Christmas tune playing faintly from the radio. Diane's fingers trembled slightly at first, her movements stiff, but as he demonstrated again, she exhaled and mirrored him, pressing the dough gently between her palms.
"There you go," he said with a nod of approval. "See? Nothing to it."
Diane glanced down at her work—neat, precise, not perfect but close. The corner of her lips twitched. "It's… not terrible."
"That's the spirit," Mr. Gerald chuckled.
Aunt Beatrice fluttered between them all, checking the progress, adjusting spices, occasionally sneaking a taste of the cookie batter with a knowing smile. "Don't think I don't see you, Lydia," she called without turning around.
Lydia's hand froze midway to her mouth, a stolen piece of cookie dough balanced on her fingertips. She exchanged a guilty look with Dalian before popping it into her mouth anyway.
Then, in a moment of mischief, Dalian grabbed a handful of flour and flicked it toward Lydia. The white powder puffed into the air, landing in Lydia's hair and dusting her sweater.
Lydia gasped dramatically. "Oh, you did not just—"
Before she could finish, her hand shot forward, smacking a flour-covered palm against Dalian's cheek.
Aunt Beatrice whirled around. "Girls—!"
Too late.
A full-blown flour war erupted. Dalian ducked behind the counter, giggling as she scooped up another handful. Lydia spun to dodge, sending a cloud of white into the air. Coughing through her laughter, she launched a counterattack, missing Dalian but catching Mr. Gerald, who blinked through the sudden snowfall of flour now clinging to his beard.
He cleared his throat, giving them a look of exaggerated disappointment. "Oh, you think this is funny?"
Dalian froze, eyes wide. "Um—"
Before she could retreat, he reached into the flour sack and, with the precision of a seasoned baker, patted a firm handful onto the top of her head.
Dalian shrieked.
Aunt Beatrice sighed, shaking her head, but there was no real anger in her voice as she bustled over to clean them up. "Honestly. You're worse than children." She wiped flour from Dalian's face with a damp cloth, muttering about "chaos in her kitchen" while trying to suppress a smile.
The house pulsed with life. Warmth curled around them like a comforting embrace, laughter breaking through the walls that had felt too heavy for too long.
As the evening settled in, the dining table brimmed with warmth—a feast laid out in golden candlelight. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread lingered in the air as they passed dishes around, their voices weaving together in comfortable conversation.
Dalian nudged Diane, a sparkle in her eye. "You know, we never did get revenge for the flour attack."
Diane arched a brow. "We?"
Dalian grinned. "Come on, you can't tell me you didn't want to dump a whole bag over Lydia's head."
Lydia scoffed. "Try it, and I'll—"
Diane cut in, voice soft but sure. "Not today." She reached for a piece of bread, tearing it in half. "Tonight is… nice."
Dalian studied her sister for a moment, then smiled, taking her own piece of bread.
The weight of grief still lingered, but for the first time in years, it didn't press so heavily on their chests. It coexisted with the warmth, the laughter, the love surrounding them.
Diane glanced at Dalian, watching as her little sister giggled at something Mr. Gerald had said.
Maybe, just maybe, Christmas didn't have to be a day of only pain.
Maybe, with the right people, it could be something… else.
Something warm. Something healing.
Something new.
The village was alive with energy as New Year's Eve arrived. Lanterns lined the streets, casting a golden glow on the fresh layer of snow that crunched beneath hurried footsteps. Families and friends gathered in the town square, their breath misting in the cold air as laughter and music filled the night.
Diane, Dalian, and Lydia stood among the crowd, bundled up in warm scarves and coats. Lydia's family was nearby, chatting with neighbors, while Aunt Beatrice and Mr. Gerald exchanged greetings with other villagers.
"Five minutes left!" someone called out, and a wave of anticipation swept through the crowd.
Dalian clasped her hands together. "This year will be better, right?" Her voice was hopeful, but a flicker of hesitation lingered.
Diane nudged her gently. "It will be."
Lydia beamed. "And we'll make the best of it! New year, new beginnings!"
As the countdown neared, villagers held hands, whispered wishes, and looked up at the sky. The air crackled with excitement, the kind that made hearts race with the thrill of new possibilities.
Then, just as the final seconds began to tick down, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
"Diane!"
She turned, eyes widening as Jack emerged from between the gathered villagers. His dark coat blended with the night, but his bright, confident smile stood out.
Dalian stiffened, her expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the way her gaze locked onto him—watchful, almost guarded.
Lydia glanced between them and smirked knowingly.
Jack slowed as he reached Diane, his breath visible in the cold air. "I wanted to see you before the year ended."
Diane blinked, surprised, but before she could respond—
"Ten! Nine! Eight!"
The countdown pulled them back into the moment. Diane turned toward the sky, her heart pounding for reasons she didn't fully understand.
"Three! Two! One!"
The village erupted into cheers as fireworks painted the sky in bursts of red, blue, and gold. Laughter and shouts of "Happy New Year!" filled the air. Lydia hugged them both, spinning Dalian around in a circle while Mr. Gerald and Aunt Beatrice exchanged well wishes.
Diane let out a breath, feeling a strange lightness in her chest. Maybe it was the fireworks, or the warmth of the people around her, or maybe—just maybe—it was the anticipation of what the new year would bring.
Something about this moment—the lights, the energy, the possibility—made her feel lighter. Like she was standing on the edge of something new.
She glanced at Jack, who was still watching her, the flickering fireworks reflected in his eyes.
A small, almost hesitant smile tugged at her lips.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn't dreading what came next.
She was excited for it.
And more than anything, she couldn't wait to go back to school.
The First Day of the New Year
The warmth of the New Year's celebration lingered even as the morning sun stretched across the horizon. Snow still dusted the rooftops, and the air carried the faint scent of burnt-out fireworks and lingering spices from the previous night's festivities.
Inside their home, Diane and Dalian sat by the fireplace, sipping warm tea as Aunt Beatrice bustled around the kitchen, humming softly. Mr. Gerald had already left early to tend to work matters, but before leaving, he had patted both of them on the head, saying, "A new year means new beginnings. Make the most of it, girls."
Diane swirled her cup absentmindedly, the steam rising in delicate curls.
Lydia had already sent a message through a neighbor, inviting them over later to talk about school.
School.
Just the thought sent a flicker of excitement through her chest. She had spent so long dreading each new day, each new obligation, but now, something had shifted.
Dalian, however, wasn't sharing the same enthusiasm. She had been unusually quiet all morning, eyes drifting toward the frost-covered window.
"Are you thinking about him?" Diane finally asked, setting her cup down.
Dalian blinked, turning to her sister. "What?"
Diane smirked slightly. "Jack."
A deep flush crept up Dalian's cheeks, and she quickly buried her face in her scarf. "No!"
"You totally are," Diane teased, leaning closer.
Dalian groaned. "Ugh! Why do you always have to notice everything?"
Diane chuckled, taking another sip of tea. "You kept talking about him after Christmas. It's hard not to notice."
Dalian huffed but didn't deny it. Instead, she pulled her legs up onto the chair, wrapping her arms around them. "I just think he's… interesting."
Diane raised a brow. "Interesting?"
"You know what I mean!" Dalian threw a pillow at her.
Diane laughed, dodging it easily. "Alright, alright. You like him. I get it."
Dalian buried her face again. "I don't like him. I just think he's…" She hesitated, searching for the right word. "…different."
A brief silence passed before Dalian muttered, "But it seems like he's interested in you."
Diane rolled her eyes. "He's not."
"But—"
"Dalian." Diane's voice turned firm. "It doesn't matter even if he was. Boys can be tricky, especially ones who seem too charming. You should be careful."
Dalian frowned. "You sound like Aunt Beatrice."
Diane shrugged. "Maybe she's right about some things."
Dalian exhaled, resting her chin on her knees. "I just… I don't know. It feels nice when he looks at me."
Diane softened at her sister's honesty.
"Just promise me you won't let a pretty face fool you," she said gently.
Dalian gave a small nod, but something in her expression remained uncertain.
The sound of the front door opening interrupted their conversation.
"Girls?" Aunt Beatrice called. "Lydia's here!"
Diane shot up, her heart lifting at the thought of finally planning for school. She had never expected to be excited about something so simple, but after everything that had happened, a sense of normalcy felt… good.
As she reached the door, she glanced back at Dalian, who was still curled up on the chair, lost in thought.
Something told her this new year was going to be different—for both of them.
And she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
The morning air was crisp, the last traces of snow clinging stubbornly to the edges of rooftops and fences. The village was awake with life—children running ahead with satchels bouncing at their sides, excited chatter filling the streets as friends reunited after the break.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Diane found herself smiling at the sight.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, feeling an unfamiliar lightness in her steps. School had always been an obligation, something to endure rather than enjoy. But now, as she walked beside Dalian and Lydia, she realized she was looking forward to it.
"Can you believe the break is already over?" Lydia huffed, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. "It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating New Year's."
"Time flies," Diane mused.
Dalian, walking a step behind them, was unusually quiet. Diane glanced at her, noting the way her fingers clutched the strap of her bag.
She was nervous.
Diane reached out and squeezed her sister's arm. "You okay?"
Dalian blinked, as if pulled from her thoughts. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
Lydia grinned, nudging her. "Thinking about a certain someone?"
Dalian gasped. "Lydia!"
Lydia laughed, darting ahead before Dalian could smack her with her bag. "I'm just saying! You've been acting all dreamy ever since the festival!"
Dalian groaned. "I have not."
Diane shook her head but smiled at their banter. Lydia had a way of making things feel lighter, as if all the weight of the past few months wasn't as heavy when she was around.
As they neared the school gates, the buzz of students grew louder. Groups huddled together, sharing stories of their holidays, showing off new gifts, and complaining about early mornings. The sight was familiar, yet today, it felt different.
Diane inhaled deeply.
She was ready.
For the first time in a long time, she wasn't just going through the motions.
She was stepping forward.
And no matter what this year had in store, she wasn't going to let the past define her anymore.