A Christmas Rediscovery Ch. 1

Poll winner at the end of 48 hours: Harry/Daphne (smut but with story), so here it is!

-Break-

The wind whistled through the pines as Harry trudged up the narrow path leading into Evergreen. His boots crunched against the snow-packed road, his breath misting in the crisp winter air. He had apparated to the outskirts of the village and made the rest of the journey on foot, a deliberate choice on his part to avoid drawing attention. The emerald ring on his index finger pulsed faintly, reinforcing his glamor that he always kept up whenever he was not home.

The village emerged from the trees like a snow globe brought to life. Quaint cottages with steeply pitched roofs dotted the landscape, their chimneys puffing thin trails of smoke. Golden light spilled from windows, reflecting off the pristine snow and creating an ethereal glow. Evergreen was a world apart from anywhere Harry had been before, and it immediately struck him as the kind of place where time might flow just a bit slower.

Following the directions he’d looked up on a map of the area, Harry found himself at the edge of the village, where a cozy cabin stood nestled among snow-laden trees. A wooden sign staked into the ground read “Winterhaven Homestay – Guests Welcome!”

The door swung open before Harry could knock, revealing a stocky man in his sixties with a cheerful grin and a thick woolen sweater. His silver hair peeked out from beneath a knitted cap, and his round face was ruddy from the cold.

“Ah, you must be James!” the man greeted warmly, extending a hand.

Harry took it, the man’s firm grip grounding him after his long journey. “That’s right. Thanks for letting me stay on such short notice.”

“Nonsense! The cabin’s been quiet lately, and I’ve always believed in a bit of holiday hospitality. I’m Angus MacLeod, by the way,” he said, stepping aside to let Harry in.

The cabin’s interior was as welcoming as its owner. A stone fireplace crackled with a lively fire, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The scent of pine mingled with that of burning wood, and simple but comfortable furniture filled the small space. A pot of something savory simmered on a stove in the adjoining kitchen.

“Make yourself at home,” Angus said, gesturing to a pair of boots near the door. “Snow’s not shy around here, so those’ll help keep you steady.”

Harry chuckled softly and nodded. “Thanks.”

Once he’d set his bag down and hung up his coat, Angus led him to a modest guest room. The space was cozy, with a thick quilt draped over a sturdy wooden bed and a small window that offered a view of the forest.

“Bit snug, but it should suit you fine,” Angus said. “Now, why don’t you warm up by the fire, and we’ll have a bit of a chat, eh? Always nice to share stories.”

Harry followed him back to the main room and settled into an armchair near the hearth. Angus handed him a steaming mug of tea before taking the chair opposite him.

“So, what brings you to Evergreen?” Angus asked, his tone curious but not intrusive.

Harry took a sip, letting the warmth of the tea seep through him. “Just needed a break from... everything, I suppose. Found this place on a map and thought it looked peaceful.”

“That it is,” Angus agreed, nodding sagely. “Small, quiet, and friendly enough if you’re looking for a chat. And if you’re looking to keep to yourself, folk here respect that too.”

Harry nodded as he glanced out the window, where the snow continued to fall gently. “Looks like a place with some history.”

“Oh, aye, that it is,” Angus said, his eyes twinkling. “Evergreen’s been here for centuries, though it’s never grown much. Too remote, I suppose, and the folks who live here like it that way. This village used to be a gathering place for traders passing through the Highlands, back when they’d come by horse and cart. That’s how the Whispering Woods got its name. Travelers would tell stories about hearing voices in the trees—wind, of course, but it made for good tales.”

“And the lake?” Harry asked, genuinely intrigued.

“The Enchanted Lake,” Angus said with a chuckle. “Locals say it never freezes, no matter how cold it gets. Some folks swear it’s because of a natural spring, but others claim it’s got... otherworldly properties. Me? I think it’s just good fortune. Pretty thing, though. If you get a chance, take a walk down there. Beautiful this time of year.”

Harry nodded, already making a mental note to visit the lake. “Any places in the village you’d recommend?”

“Ah, let’s see,” Angus said, scratching his chin. “If you’re looking for something hearty, you’ll want to stop by The Frosty Mug. Best pub in town—well, only pub in town, but still the best. Ol’ Martha and her chap Joseph’s kept it running for years. For sweets, you can’t miss The Gingerbread Cottage. Grace runs it, lovely girl, and let me tell you, her pastries are like nothing else. Always smells like Christmas in there.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

“Plenty of walks to take too,” Angus continued. “The woods are lovely, though I’d stick to the marked paths. Easy to lose your way if you’re not careful. And, of course, we’ve got our little market in the square. Not much compared to the big city fairs, but it’s got charm.”

They talked some more, and roughly half an hour later, Angus leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with a thoughtful expression. “You know lad, you’ve got the look of someone who’s been through a bit, if you don’t mind me saying. Evergreen’s good for folks looking to put the past behind them.”

Harry’s grip on his mug tightened slightly, but he offered a small smile. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

“Well,” Angus said, clapping his hands on his knees and standing. “You’re in the right place. Now, I’ll let you get settled, and if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you,” Harry said sincerely.

As Angus disappeared into the kitchen, Harry stared into the fire, letting its warmth thaw the lingering chill in his bones. Evergreen, he thought, might just be the refuge he hadn’t known he needed.

-Break-

After unpacking and resting for a while, Harry ventured outside once more, his curiosity piqued by Angus’s recommendation, and the name of the owner. 

The snow crunched softly under his boots as he walked through the cobblestone streets of Evergreen. The village, illuminated by soft golden lights strung along every building and tree, seemed to exude a calm warmth despite the cold nip in the air. Evergreen had an almost otherworldly charm. The Whispering Woods framed its edges, their ancient trees dusted in snow, and the Enchanted Lake shimmered faintly in the distance.

Harry adjusted the scarf around his neck, pulling it higher to cover part of his face. It was a muggle village and he was confident that no one would recognize him here. After all, even Voldemort’s forces had not bothered to invade this remote place, even though it was entire muggle and more vulnerable than most. Still, he kept his glamor up, even though it only subtly altered his features so that only those who knew him closely could tell it was him. Confident or not, he did not want to tempt fate and take the chance of being discovered. He was not here to be ‘Harry Potter’. He was here to find peace and quiet.

His footsteps led him to The Gingerbread Cottage, the bakery nestled in the heart of the village. Its cozy facade was as inviting as the wafting aroma of freshly baked bread and sugary treats that drifted into the air. A hand-painted sign hung above the door, depicting a gingerbread house framed with a cheerful wreath of holly.

The warm bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside the bakery. The instant he crossed the threshold, the biting cold of the evening melted away, replaced by the comforting embrace of warmth and the enticing scent of baking. He paused near the door, taking in the scene. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, their polished surfaces gleaming in the light of a chandelier made of dangling golden stars. Shelves lined the walls, bearing glass jars filled with every sweet imaginable, from candied ginger to shimmering sugared almonds.

The centerpiece of the room was the display counter, behind which trays of baked goods were arranged in almost artistic precision. Loaves of bread, their crusts golden and inviting, sat beside trays of intricately decorated biscuits. Cakes with snowflake patterns were propped up next to a tray of mince pies dusted with powdered sugar. The entire place radiated cheer, as if it were designed to banish the darkest of moods.

“Welcome!” called the woman behind the counter, breaking his reverie.

He looked up to see a woman with blonde hair tied back into a loose bun. Her warm blue eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled. She wore a flour-dusted apron over a green sweater, and her sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms dusted with traces of powdered sugar.

“Evening,” Harry said, his voice soft but steady. He glanced at the glass display case, filled with intricate confections. “This place is... quite something.”

The woman’s smile widened a fraction. “Thank you. It’s always nice to hear when someone appreciates the effort.”

“I was told this is the place to go for something to eat. They weren’t exaggerating, it seems.”

The woman chuckled lightly. “Whoever ‘they’ are, I’ll have to thank them for the endorsement. I’m Grace, by the way. What’s your name?”

“James,” Harry replied after a moment’s hesitation, using the name he often adopted while traveling incognito.

“Well, James, you’ve come at the right time. We’ve just pulled out a fresh batch of mince pies.” She gestured to a tray nearby. “But everything here is good, if I do say so myself.”

Harry studied the offerings, his gaze lingering on a towering chocolate cake adorned with sugared cranberries. “I’ll take a bit of everything, if that’s alright. It all looks... amazing.”

Grace raised an eyebrow, though her grin widened. “A bit of everything? You must have quite the appetite. Let me get a plate started for you.”

As she worked, placing an assortment of treats onto a plate, Harry moved to sit at one of the small wooden tables near the window. The view outside was picturesque, the snow continuing to fall gently, coating the village in a shimmering white blanket.

When Grace brought the plate to his table, Harry couldn’t help but notice the care she had put into arranging the selection. Each item was placed with precision, almost as if presenting a gift rather than a meal.

“Enjoy,” she said, setting down a steaming mug of hot chocolate beside the plate.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, taking a bite of a buttery shortbread cookie. It practically melted in his mouth, and he couldn’t suppress a sigh of contentment.

“Good?” Grace asked, a flicker of amusement in her tone.

“More than good,” Harry admitted, his expression softening. “I’ve traveled a lot, and I don’t think I’ve tasted anything quite like this.”

Grace leaned lightly against the table, crossing her arms. “That’s a high compliment. Where’ve you been traveling?”

“Oh, here and there,” Harry said vaguely, taking another bite. “I guess I’m searching for something, though I’m not quite sure what. Maybe it’s somewhere quiet… somewhere that doesn’t remind me of… well, everything.”

Her smile faltered slightly, though she quickly recovered. “Sometimes the search is enough. And sometimes…” she gestured around the bakery, “...you stumble upon something you didn’t realize you needed.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully. “Did you stumble upon this place too?”

Grace hesitated, her gaze flickering to the floor for a moment. “In a way. I came here years ago, looking for a fresh start. I wanted... simplicity. A place where I could focus on what makes me happy.”

“And baking makes you happy?”

“It does,” she said with a quiet conviction. “It’s honest work. You put your heart into it, and you can see the results immediately. There’s something... healing about it, I suppose.”

Harry nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his mug. “I can see that. There’s a kind of magic in what you’ve created here.”

Grace’s cheeks flushed faintly, though she brushed it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you another cookie, James.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s not flattery if it’s true. You’re clearly very good at what you do.”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s taken time, but I’ve come to love this work.”

“I can see that,” Harry said, his voice contemplative. “I think I’ve spent so much time chasing things I can’t see or hold. It must be nice to create something tangible. Something that makes people happy.”

“It is,” Grace admitted, studying him. “You seem like someone who’s seen their share of... intangible things.”

Harry hesitated, caught off guard by the perceptiveness in her tone. “You could say that,” he said finally. “It’s a long story.”

She nodded, her gaze steady but kind. “Well, I’m a good listener, if you ever feel like sharing. This village has a way of encouraging people to let their guard down, eventually.”

Harry glanced out the window at the softly falling snow, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need,” he murmured.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the radio playing a festive carol in the corner.

“So,” Harry said, breaking the quiet, “what’s the story behind this place? The Gingerbread Cottage, I mean.”

Grace smiled, a flicker of pride in her expression. “When I first moved here, there wasn’t much in the way of sweets or baked goods, at least not in a way I was familiar with. I thought it would be nice to create a place where people could gather, even if it’s just to enjoy a cup of tea and a slice of cake. Over time, it became something more. It’s not just a bakery—it’s part of the community now. I’ve seen friendships start here, even a proposal or two.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the image. “Sounds like you’ve built something special.”

She shrugged modestly, though her smile lingered. “It’s nothing grand, but it’s mine. And I think there’s a kind of magic in creating something that feels... safe.”

A quiet settled in, broken only by the flickering of fire, the faint festive carol, and the sounds of Harry eating.

They talked as he worked through the plate, their conversation drifting to safe topics—weather, village life, the strange quirks of small communities. Grace found herself intrigued by James’ quiet demeanor and thoughtful responses. He didn’t press her for details about her life, nor did he seem overly guarded, despite his evasive answers about his past.

Harry, for his part, felt an odd sense of ease in her presence. There was no expectation, no prying questions or judgment. Just warmth, both in the food and the company.

He finished his hot chocolate, savoring the rich, velvety texture. “I think I’ll be back,” he said, standing and pulling his scarf back into place.

Grace grinned. “Well, James, next time I’ll have something new for you to try. Consider it a challenge.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Harry replied, his tone lighter now, as if a weight had shifted just slightly.

As the bell above the door chimed again, signaling another customer’s entrance, Grace excused herself with a polite nod. Harry watched her retreat behind the counter, her movements fluid and purposeful, and he walked over, paying his bill. They exchanged a nod and a smile, and he made his way out.

For the first time in weeks, he felt a flicker of something unfamiliar but welcome: peace.

-Break-

The bell above the door chimed softly as Harry stepped into The Gingerbread Cottage a few days later, snowflakes clinging to his scarf and dark coat. The warmth of the bakery embraced him immediately, and the familiar scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and melted chocolate stirred his appetite.

Grace glanced up from where she was boxing a batch of cookies and smiled when she saw him. “Back again, James? You’re going to start making the other customers jealous if you keep monopolizing my best recipes.”

Harry chuckled as he unwrapped his scarf and settled into the same table by the window. “What can I say? I’ve become kinda addicted to these challenges you keep preparing for me.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re such an adventurous sort,” Grace praised exaggeratedly, pulling a covered tray from behind the counter. She walked over, carrying it like an offering. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

She placed a plate before him with a flourish, revealing a collection of small tartlets topped with a glossy caramel glaze, flecked with sea salt. The crusts looked perfectly golden, and the filling shimmered under the light.

“They’re salted caramel tartlets,” she explained. “It’s something new I’ve been working on for the Christmas fair. Figured I’d test them out on my most frequent customer.”

“Lucky me,” Harry said, his tone light, though he felt a warmth rise in his chest at the thought of her considering his opinion.

He took a bite, his eyebrows lifting as the flavors burst onto his tongue. The perfect blend of sweet and salty, with a buttery crust that crumbled just right. “This,” he said after swallowing, “is fantastic. You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Grace sat across from him, resting her chin on her hand. “You think they’ll be a hit?”

“If they’re not, I don’t know what’s wrong with this village,” Harry replied, taking another bite. “You mentioned the Christmas fair—is that a big thing here?”

Grace’s expression brightened. “It is. The fair runs every year a few days before Christmas. It’s nothing too fancy, just a collection of stalls in the village square selling everything from handmade ornaments to mulled wine. But it’s tradition. Families come together, friends catch up... and for some reason, my stall ends up being the busiest.”

Harry smirked. “Can’t imagine why.”

Grace rolled her eyes but smiled. “It’s exhausting, honestly. I usually have to prepare for days in advance. Baking in bulk isn’t as easy as it looks.”

He hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “I could help.”

She blinked, clearly surprised. “Help? You?”

“Why not?” Harry asked, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve got time, and it sounds like you could use an extra set of hands. I’ve got some experience at cooking as well. Besides…” He glanced around the bakery. “You’ve been kind to me. It’d be nice to return the favor.”

For a moment, Grace studied him, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Then, she nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, James. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Fair day isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“I think I can handle it,” he said with a grin.

-Break-

The village square of Evergreen was alive with the festive spirit. Stalls lined the cobblestone square, draped in garlands of holly and twinkling fairy lights. The air was filled with the sound of cheerful chatter, the occasional burst of laughter, and the soft strains of carolers singing by a large, decorated tree in the center. Snow fell in gentle flurries, adding a touch of magic to the already enchanting scene.

Grace’s stall was one of the largest, positioned near the middle of the market. A banner reading The Gingerbread Cottage hung above it, and the table was laden with an impressive array of her baked goods. Tins of cookies, slices of fruitcake, and rows of her famous mince pies were arranged in neat, appealing displays.

Harry stood behind the stall, tying the strings of an apron Grace had handed him earlier. “So, what’s my job?” he asked, glancing at her.

Grace, busy arranging the salted caramel tartlets in a prominent spot, smirked. “Your job is to smile and not scare the customers away.”

“Noted,” Harry replied dryly, earning a laugh from her.

It wasn’t long before the first wave of customers arrived, and the stall became a hub of activity. Grace handled most of the transactions, her easy charm drawing people in, while Harry focused on keeping the table stocked and occasionally wrapping purchases.

“You’re a natural,” Grace said at one point, glancing at him as he carefully placed a loaf of spiced bread into a paper bag for a customer.

“I’ve had practice with organized chaos,” Harry replied, thinking wryly of his days as a Seeker and later his life during the war. He refused to let those memories sour the new ones he was making here though, and he forced them out of his mind. Smiling, he continued, “This is... a lot more enjoyable.”

“Well, do continue like this,” she chuckled.

As the afternoon wore on, the crowds grew thicker and the weather colder, but Harry found himself oddly at ease. Grace’s energy was infectious, and they fell into an easy rhythm, working side by side.

Between sales, they stole moments to talk, their conversations drifting from lighthearted banter to deeper topics.

“So,” Grace asked as they paused for a brief lull, “what did you do before you started wandering into small villages and eating your weight in mince pies?”

Harry hesitated, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not very interesting, honestly. A lot of traveling, some jobs here and there... nothing quite as grounded as running a bakery.”

Grace raised an eyebrow at his vague answer but didn’t push. “Well, whatever you did, I’m glad you ended up here. You’ve been a lifesaver today.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression softening. He truly felt at peace, even happier than he’d felt in years, and he said softly, “I think I needed this more than I realized.”

Grace’s brows drew slightly and she opened her mouth to respond, but a group of children approached the stall, chattering excitedly about the gingerbread men on display. She turned her attention to them, her smile as warm as ever, and so did Harry, but not before he glanced at her warmly.

-Break-

By the time the market began to wind down, the table was nearly empty, and the air had grown colder. Grace and Harry stood side by side, watching as villagers milled about, carrying their purchases and laughing with one another.

“You were right,” Harry said, his breath visible in the frosty air. “This place really does feel special.”

Grace glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not the place, James” she said quietly. “It’s the people.”

Harry met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. Before either could say more, a gust of wind sent a flurry of snow swirling around them, and Grace laughed, brushing it from her hair.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light. “Let’s get these last few things packed up.”

As they worked, Harry couldn’t help but feel that the day had been more than just a simple market outing. It was a day filled with laughter, connection, and a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in years. And for the first time, he found himself looking forward—not just to another day in Evergreen, but to another day spent by Grace’s side.

-Break-

The early morning light streamed through the frosted windows of The Gingerbread Cottage, casting a golden glow on the flour-dusted countertops and neatly arranged shelves. The bakery was quiet, the warmth of the ovens the only company Grace usually had during these hours. But today, she wasn’t alone.

Mrs. Edith Larkspur, Grace’s elderly neighbor and one of Evergreen’s most cherished residents, sat in a wooden chair near the counter. A knitted shawl draped over her shoulders, and her gnarled hands clasped a steaming mug of tea. She had a warm, grandmotherly presence, with twinkling hazel eyes and silver hair neatly pinned up under a woolen hat.

“You spoil me, you know,” Edith said, taking a sip of her tea. “Scones and tea first thing in the morning—it’s no wonder I keep coming back.”

Grace smiled as she sprinkled powdered sugar over a tray of freshly baked pastries. “It’s no trouble, Edith. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Edith’s gaze lingered on Grace for a moment before she spoke again. “You’ve been busy lately. The Christmas Fair, all those extra orders... and that handsome helper of yours.”

Grace’s hands paused mid-sprinkle, but she quickly resumed her work, keeping her tone casual. “James has been... helpful, yes. He offered to lend a hand, and I wasn’t about to turn him down.”

“Helpful,” Edith repeated with a chuckle. “That’s a word for it.”

Grace glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The older woman leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Oh, come now, Grace. You’ve never let anyone help you in this bakery—not once in all the years I’ve known you. And now, this young man comes along, and suddenly you’re working side by side with him like you’ve known each other forever. I’d say that’s worth asking about.”

Grace busied herself arranging the pastries on a tray, but a faint flush crept up her neck. “He’s kind, Edith. And easy to work with. That’s all there is to it.”

“Hmm.” Edith took another sip of her tea, her gaze never leaving Grace. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you take to anyone like this before. You’ve always kept your distance, even when someone showed interest. But James... he’s different, isn’t he?”

Grace set the tray aside and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. “I don’t know, Edith. He’s... thoughtful. Quiet, but not in a way that feels distant. When he’s here, it’s like... everything just fits. It’s easy to be around him.”

Edith nodded slowly, her expression softening. “And how does that make you feel?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace admitted, her voice quieter now. “It’s strange. I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length. It was easier that way—no expectations, no complications. But with James...” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s different. And that scares me a little.”

Edith reached out and patted Grace’s hand, her touch gentle but firm. “It’s natural to be scared, my dear. Letting someone in—it’s the bravest thing you can do. But bravery has its rewards, too.”

Grace looked down at the counter, her thoughts swirling. “I don’t even know what he thinks of me. For all I know, he’s just passing through, and this is nothing more than a stop on his journey.”

“Maybe so,” Edith said, her voice thoughtful. “But don’t you think it’s worth finding out? You’ve spent so much of your life building walls, Grace. Perhaps it’s time to open a door or two.”

Grace glanced at Edith, her expression conflicted. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not,” Edith said with a small smile. “But the best things in life never are. And if you ask me, there’s something about the way he looks at you. Like you’re not just a stop, but a reason.”

Grace hesitated, nodding. “About that. It’s strange, isn’t it? I barely know anything about him—not where he’s from, what he does... none of it. And yet, there’s this... ease. Like I’ve known him for much longer.”

Edith smiled knowingly. “Sometimes, it’s not about how long you’ve known someone, but how they make you feel in the moments you do share. Connections like that don’t follow a schedule.”

Grace frowned slightly, as though grappling with the idea. “But isn’t it risky, putting stock in something that feels so... fleeting?”

“Perhaps,” Edith agreed. “But fleeting things can be the most beautiful. And who’s to say it’s fleeting? Sometimes the strongest bonds are forged faster than we expect. It’s the quality of time, not the quantity, my dear.”

Grace felt her heart skip at the words but shook her head lightly. “I don’t know, Edith. I’m not even sure I’d know how to...” She trailed off, waving a hand vaguely.

“To let someone in?” Edith finished for her. “You don’t need to have all the answers, my dear. Sometimes, all it takes is a little courage and a willingness to see where the path leads.”

Grace was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. Then, she sighed and smiled faintly. “You’re far too wise for your own good, Edith.”

The older woman chuckled, settling back in her chair. “That’s what happens when you’ve been around as long as I have. Now, promise me one thing, Grace.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let fear keep you from something wonderful. If James makes you feel even a little bit of joy, hold onto it. Life’s too short to do otherwise.”

Grace nodded slowly, her resolve quietly strengthening. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Edith said with a satisfied smile. “Now, let me finish this tea before it gets cold. And while you’re at it, save me one of those salted caramel tartlets for the way back home. They’re divine.”

Grace laughed softly, the heaviness in her chest lifting just a little. As she turned back to her work, Edith’s words echoed in her mind, planting a seed of possibility she wasn’t quite ready to dismiss.

TBC.

Hey there, readers! 🎄 Merry Christmas Eve to all of you! I hope you're enjoying the holiday season and having a fantastic time. 

So, about the story – I originally planned this as a quick one-shot, but as I started writing, it just kept growing. Looks like we're looking at a short story instead of a quick read. I'm thinking it'll probably be around three or four chapters long, which means I'll be updating it similar to my other stories.

I know some of you might have been hoping for a quick one-and-done piece, but sometimes stories have a mind of their own! I hope you'll stick around and enjoy the journey. Can't wait to share this with you all!

Cheers, and happy reading! 🎉📖