Alya's POV

The Christmas festivities had begun, and as a longstanding tradition in the Monroe family—chaotic as ever—we gathered at our family home down south. 

I drove into Home Goods to grab a few Christmas ornaments and picked up some gifts along the way for my siblings and parents. 

I blasted "Single on the 25th" by Lauren Spencer Smith in my car, singing every single lyric at the top of my lungs.

"Praying for the love you see in the movies, not asking for much, just one," I sang aloud, longing for that kind of love. I was tired of watching everyone else paired up; even my siblings were in relationships. My older brother was married with kids, and my younger sister was engaged while I felt stuck in between — a tough spot to be in. 

Every year around Christmas, my uncles and aunts made it their mission to humiliate me by asking when I was going to get married, even though I was just entering my late twenties. Thankfully, my parents never pressured me; they were just happy to be grandparents. 

"Alya, you'll find the right person at the right time. Don't rush, honey," they'd always say after I faced my aunts' and uncles' well-meaning but annoying questions. 

I was always too busy to meet anyone. With regular meetings and business trips as a director at a high-tech company in Miami, I could only take time off during the holidays. 

I parked in my driveway, hurrying to pack my bags since I had a plane to catch from Miami to South Carolina in about six hours. I included spare clothes for my stay until New Year's, packed the gifts for my family, and added the necessary ornaments. 

I booked an Uber to take me to the airport, which was arriving soon. I took one last look at my almost-empty house. "Merry Christmas Eve," I whispered before walking out with my two suitcases and boarding the Uber. The car was filled with Christmas music as we passed by streets adorned with decorations. 

The flight was smooth, and I had a car waiting to take me to our family house. After an hour and a half of driving, we pulled into the driveway, the snow crunching underneath the tires. The Duplex house looked just as it always did, covered in a blanket of snow. 

The driver helped with my bags and then drove off. As I walked in, my senses came alive. The smell of freshly baked cookies, gingerbread houses, and hot chocolate filled the air, accompanied by the joyful sounds of laughter throughout the house. A huge Christmas tree stood in the centre of the room, adorned with decorations and surrounded by colourful presents. 

"Aunt Alya!" my little niece Sylvia called out as she spotted me, her face lighting up with a big grin as she ran into my arms. 

"My Sylvie! How have you been?" I said, hugging her while spinning around, her small giggles erupting joyfully. 

"I'm good; I missed you!" 

"Me too, honey." 

"I got you a little present, but don't tell Daddy," she whispered. 

"I heard that, Alya," my older brother Ian said as he walked into the room, and I chuckled. 

"I came bearing gifts not just for my niece and nephew; I got you something too, Ian." 

"And for you too, Sydney," I added as my sister entered the room. 

We chatted and exchanged gifts for a while. We planned to stay up all night in our Christmas pajamas, binge-watching Christmas movies while the kids slept. We laughed, ate, shed a few tears, and overall bonded again, all thanks to our cherished tradition.

Christmas was lovely, with gifts being unwrapped and happy smiles on everyone's faces as we indulged in delicious food. We enjoyed various activities like snowboarding and building snowmen with the kids. It was the perfect opportunity to unwind and spend quality time with loved ones.

New Year's was a blast as well. We all made resolutions for the year ahead, but unfortunately, New Year's

signified the end of our holiday, and it was time to return to daily work life without any breaks.

"Alya, I wish you could stay longer," my mom said as I stood outside, watching my bags being packed into the trunk of the car.

"Me too, Mom. But I have work to do. I'll try to make time to come back again, hopefully before Christmas. Take care, Mom and Dad," I replied, hugging them both before saying goodbye to everyone else.

I fell asleep for most of the ride and managed to board the plane just in time. As we prepared for takeoff, my phone received a weather alert warning of a possible snowstorm. I ignored it, thinking it wouldn't hit until we landed in Miami.

I was wrong. Halfway through the flight, the snowstorm began, and the pilot's voice came through the speaker.

"All passengers, please remain calm. This is your captain speaking. Due to the snowstorm, we have to make an emergency landing at the nearest airport, Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport (SAV)."

The plane landed shortly after the announcement. We were instructed to leave our larger luggage behind and only take our small bags for the night, as our flight would be rescheduled for the following day.

Everything happened so suddenly, and I remembered my mom's words; I probably should have stayed longer. I grabbed my hand luggage and took a cab to the nearest hotel, but only bad news awaited me—it was fully booked due to the emergency landing of numerous flights.

I visited a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth hotel, but had no luck; all of them were fully booked. The driver seemed to be growing tired of me, but surprisingly, he made a suggestion.

"Ma'am, there's an inn a little further from the city, but I'm sure you'll be able to get a room there for the night. Would you like me to take you?"

"Yes, please," I responded.

He dropped me off at a small inn nestled in the snow. After paying the fees, he drove off. I stood there, hoping it would work out since this was my seventh attempt, and seven is considered a lucky number, so I felt hopeful.

As I walked in exhausted and cold and prepared to ask for a room, something strange happened. "Can I book a room?" I said simultaneously with another stranger. We turned to face each other, and the receptionist looked like she was in a tough spot.

"I'm sorry, but there's only one room left. It's a master suite with a twin bed, and if you both would be willing to share..." she suggested. The idea of sharing a room with a stranger was not appealing to me at all.

"Just so you know, I'm not giving up the room. I don't want to share a room, as much as you don't, but this is my seventh attempt. There's no hope of finding another place this late, so we might as well coexist for one night and go our separate ways by morning," I proposed, feeling desperate.

"Fine, I guess we have no choice," he said as he collected the key for our room. I placed my bag in the closet and grabbed the supplies I needed for the night.

After we took turns enjoying a warm bath, we both settled down by the little fireplace in silence.

"I'm Alya, by the way," I said, breaking the quiet since we hadn't formally introduced ourselves.

"Levi. Nice to meet you," he replied with a faint smile, and once again, silence fell over us.

"Would you like to play a game? You know, as an icebreaker. I can't sleep in the same room with someone unless I'm comfortable. So, what do you think?" I nudged him, and fortunately, he agreed.

Levi's POV

It was just great. Heavy snow was falling, and the weather alerts continued to sound nonstop, warning of an impending snowstorm. I had a meeting to attend in Savannah, Georgia, and I was already on the outskirts when my client messaged me to reschedule. He was meant to show me his vision for his ideal project, and I was tasked with drawing up a building based on his descriptions and ideas as the architect responsible. But now I was stranded on the outskirts of Savannah for the night.

I drove around, searching for a hotel, motel, or perhaps an Airbnb, but nothing was available. Eventually, I stumbled upon a small inn nestled amidst the snow. I parked in the lot, brushed the snow off my jacket, and went straight to the receptionist to book a room for the night.

Something odd happened: I requested to book a room at the same time as another stranger, and the receptionist told us there was only one room left. Our eyes locked with an intensity I couldn't quite describe. In short, neither of us was willing to relinquish the room.

"Just so you know, I'm not giving up the room. I don't want to share, just as you probably don't, but this is my seventh attempt at finding somewhere to stay. There's no hope of finding another option this late, so we might as well share for one night and go our separate ways in the morning," she suggested, her tone tinged with urgency and desperation. I felt sorry for her—it must have been incredibly frustrating. So I said the words I never thought I would.

"Fine, I suppose we have no choice," I responded, informing the receptionist that we'd share the room before taking the keys to our master twin bedroom.

After freshening up, we both sat silently by the fireplace until she broke the quiet, and we exchanged first names.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp. Outside, the storm raged, wind slamming snow against the window. The fireplace crackled faintly, trying its best to keep up.

The silence grew louder, and she broke it again. I guessed she disliked the silence, but I was perfectly content with it.

"Would you like to play a game? As an icebreaker. I can't sleep in the same room as anyone unless I feel comfortable. So, what do you think?" she nudged me, and I considered it.

It wasn't a bad idea, though I suspected she was trying too hard and might give up on feeling at ease in this impossible situation.

But I agreed.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" she asked as the water boiled.

"No thanks," I replied, not really into hot chocolate. She nodded and made herself some.

She sat back down and took a sip of her hot chocolate before speaking.

"Okay, we could play Two Truths and a Lie, Never Have I Ever, or Would You Rather. Which one do you feel comfortable with?" she asked, watching me carefully as I weighed my options.

"Two Truths and a Lie," I answered, as it was my favourite word game.

"Okay, I'll go first. 1. I hate the ocean. 2. I love hot chocolate. 3. I'm an athlete. Can you spot the lie?" she asked with a mischievous chuckle. I pondered for a moment before giving my answer. It was harder when you knew nothing about the other person, but I refused to believe she hated the ocean. She seemed like the type to enjoy a beach picnic, so I was convinced that was the lie.

"1. That's the lie; you don't hate the ocean," I said confidently.

"Wrong! I'm not an athlete," she laughed, but I wasn't amused. Not because I guessed wrong, but because she really hated the ocean.

"May I ask why?" I inquired, curiosity lacing my tone. She frowned, and I picked up on it. She didn't feel comfortable sharing, and that was fine—after all, I was a stranger.

"My turn. 1. I'm stuck in a snowstorm. 2. I'm a writer. 3. I'm allergic to nuts."

"Hmmm, you're not a writer?" she guessed hesitantly, but I nodded, confirming she was right.

"Round two?" she suggested, settling back into the game.

"Sure, I'll start. 1. I've never been on a plane. 2. I dislike dogs. 3. I once drove a car without a licence." I had a smug look, knowing this round was going to be trickier.

"Hmmm, this is so unfair."

"Um, don't hate the player, hate the game," I chuckled, her gaze lingering on my face as if it held the answers.

"Okay, I'm choosing number 2. Fingers crossed." She closed her eyes, and I nearly laughed.

"Wrong! I've never driven without a licence."

"What?" she chuckled dryly.

"May I probe a little?" she asked curiously.

"Sure," I smiled.

"Why have you never been on a plane? And why don't you like dogs? They're so cute!"

"Slow down," I laughed at her relentless questioning.

She sighed, admitting defeat as she awaited my answer.

"I'm acrophobic," I chuckled nervously, and she looked at me, stunned, piecing together why I hadn't been on a plane.

"I've been that way for as long as I can remember. And, well, I had a traumatic experience with dogs, so I just don't like them," I admitted. I had flashbacks of a dog attacking me, but I wouldn't admit it outright—it seems cowardly.

"Hmmm, that's a bummer, but you're not missing much. Plane rides are faster but uncomfortable because you always feel like if you relax too much, you might tip the plane over—"

I cut her off with a hearty laugh.

"What?" she grinned, clearly pleased I got the joke.

"You're so funny, Alya. I haven't laughed this hard in ages," I said, meeting her eyes with a smile.

"And no one has laughed at my sense of humour as much as you, so the pleasure is mutual," she replied with a grin.

"Final round?" I asked, already enjoying the game—finally admitting I was wrong about her trying too hard and giving up halfway.

"Of course. I'll start. 1. I nearly moved to Paris last year. 2. I have a tattoo no one knows about. 3. I once fell off a ski lift."

"Oh, that must have hurt—falling off the ski lift. But tattoo is the lie; you don't give off that vibe," I said, pretty sure of myself.

"Ugh, yeah, you're right. I went easy on you," she said sulkily, unable to admit how easily I guessed.

"If that soothed your ego, so be it," I teased.

"Okay, let's raise the stakes. 1. I almost proposed once. 2. I haven't spoken to my dad in seven years. 3. I used to want to be a musician."

She studied me carefully, as if she could sense the weight behind my words.

"Proposal's the lie,"

"Wrong. Musician's the lie."

"Whoa, that's big,"

"Yeah, I thought she was the one, but it turns out she wasn't. She... cheated on me with my best friend—well, ex-best friend. I couldn't accept it. If I hadn't been there, I might have thought it was a lie, but there she was, promising him everything she had once said to me, while under the covers with him. I returned the ring, and that was that. I...haven't really told anyone that," I revealed, staring at my hands, wondering why I'd just opened up.

I could still vividly remember that day as if it were yesterday. I had received my paycheck that afternoon and excitedly went into her favourite jewellery shop, Pandora. I went ring shopping because I thought she was the one for me and wanted to promise her forever. I asked the sales assistant what the best ring to propose with was, and she brought out the "Holy Promise" 2ct pear cut side stone. It was beautiful, and I knew she would love it. I paid immediately, grabbed the ring, and walked to our shared apartment. But I was in for the surprise of my life. As I walked through the front door, I noticed it wasn't locked. At the entrance, I found a pair of male shoes that didn't belong to me. I recognised them – I had gotten them as a birthday gift to my best friend, Ethan. My heart raced, hoping it wasn't what I thought.

I heard laughter coming from our bedroom and, feeling nauseous, I peeked in. To my horror, I saw them all cosy under the sheets, barely clothed. "I want to be with you, Ethan, and only you," Ria promised him. The same words she'd said to me yesterday that had propelled me to propose to her, but now I felt disgusted. My eyes stung, and my nausea worsened. I ran into the bathroom, throwing up my gut. They must have heard me projectile vomit and ran out shamelessly calling out my name. I rinsed my face, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"Did you really have to go for my best friend? How long has this been going on? Did I ever mean anything to you, Ria?" I asked, unsure if I wanted the answer.

"Don't answer that. I don't want to know." I paused, unable to control my emotions. Rage, sadness, and hurt swirled within me. "Ethan, we've been friends for as long as I can remember, and you go ahead and do this to me?" I wanted to punch him, to break a bone or two, but my strength waned. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I just wanted to get out of here.

"It's over. I don't ever want to see any of you again. You want to be together so badly? Go ahead, with me out of the equation, you can get your happily ever after." I finished, refusing to let them speak to me. I packed my essentials into a bag and left. I didn't know where I was headed, but I couldn't stay here. I returned the ring, not bothering to get a refund. I was out of my body. I booked the next available flight to South Carolina, to stay with my sister, hoping to be far away from New York.

"You just told me. That must have been really hard to move past. You must have felt lonely, keeping  all that inside, losing your closest friend and your girlfriend all in one go." She offered comfort, and I thought I didn't need anyone to comfort me, but it did lighten the burden somewhat.

"Yeah, it means nothing to me now," I said, trying not to make a big deal out of it. I didn't want to dwell on it—it was years ago, after all. Well, three years ago, and I've been unable to be with anyone since. It's safe to say I don't believe in 'the one.' So I wasn't open to new possibilities.

Starting afresh in South Carolina was challenging, but I knew I had to move on and pursue my architecture career. Three years later, I found myself with my own architecture startup company, handling a few clients. It all came down to my biggest investor – my older sister.

Strangely enough, I wouldn't mind if Alya became a small part of my life. She felt like a ray of sunshine I needed to open my heart again, but it was just one night. We'd return to our daily lives, pretending this night never happened.

So I decided to live in the moment and be a version of myself that wasn't closed off to new people.

Alya's POV

Levi and I have been playing Two Truths and a Lie for a while now, and it has been chaotic but fun. Oddly enough, I felt comfortable around him—yes, that was the aim when I proposed the game, but it was different since I doubted I'd be at ease with him. My gaze lingered on his illuminated face longer than it should have, captivated by the way the warm glow of the lamp highlighted his features. His smile was genuine and warm, contradicting my earlier impression of him. Initially, I had thought he was rude, self-absorbed, and closed off, but I discovered he was none of those. He was a little introverted, soft-spoken, and surprisingly open to sharing his thoughts.

I hadn't expected him to open up about the proposal or his fear of heights, but he did, and that had to mean something—that he felt comfortable enough to share with me, a stranger.

We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the relentless storm hammer against the roof, the wind whipping the windows and causing the room to creak. The storm struck the roof harshly, causing me to shiver as I hugged my knees to my chest. The heat from the small fire crackling in the stone fireplace was barely making a dent against the cold night.

Levi noticed and asked, "Cold?"

"No, I'm fine. My teeth always chatter for... dramatic effect," I replied, brushing it off and trying to sound casual.

"Mhm. Liar," he called my bluff with a knowing smile.

He stood up silently, rummaging through a nearby basket for extra blankets—thick, woollen blankets I hadn't noticed before. When he sat back down, he draped one across both of us without asking. Our shoulders brushed against each other, and I tensed for half a second before relaxing, surprised by how natural it felt.

"So we're sharing blankets now?" I teased, making light of the situation even though my stomach was doing a stupid flip at our close proximity.

"Hmm, consider it... Strategic body heat management," he teased back with a smirk. We both sat close enough to feel each other's warmth, the quiet thickening between us. The game had faded, but its echoes lingered.

"Levi," I called, catching his gaze, curious about what I had to say.

"Remember when I said I hated the ocean and refused to explain why when you asked?" I hesitated, then decided to be honest.

He looked at me patiently, "Yeah, you don't have to share if you don't want to."

But I wanted to. I wanted to let my guard down, even if just for one night. Maybe I'd regret it, but it was worth a try.

"I liked your last truth, and maybe it's the storm, or maybe it's you, but I want to be vulnerable right here in this cold yet strangely warm room. Can I?" I half pleaded.

He shifted slightly, tucking the blankets around me as he sat opposite, the soft glow from the lamp contrasting against his face. His jawline, the warm brown of his eyes, his tousled, grizzled curly hair—all seemed to glow softly in the subdued light.

"Of course," he replied gently.

I took a deep breath, summoning the memories I'd buried deep—the ones that haunted me, that made my heart ache.

I can do this, I told myself.

"When I was 18, I went surfing with my best friend at night. We thought we were invincible. One second we were laughing, the next..." I exhaled sharply, trying to steady the lump rising in my throat, but I pressed on.

"The current pulled her away. I tried to grab her, but it was dark, and I couldn't...I couldn't see her," I said softly, voice trembling.

I could hear the crashing of the waves against the rocky shoreline, her soft, melodic laughs echoing softly in the cool night air, and the gentle glow of the full moon illuminating the darkened sky. It was a peaceful night, until everything suddenly shifted into chaos. I surfed away from her, asking her to catch me, to hold on tight, but she couldn't. Not when the relentless waves slammed her repeatedly, pulling her towards the turbulent surface. I called out to her, tried to reach out and grab her hand, but I was too slow, too blinded by the darkness and the swirling water to find or save her. Panicking, I screamed for help, desperately pleading for somebody, anybody nearby, to hear me and come to her rescue.

He stayed quiet, watching me intently, giving me space. I swallowed hard before continuing.

"They pulled me out, the lifeguards. But she... she didn't make it." A tear slid down my cheek as I said the last words. The room grew still; he didn't interrupt or say that everything was okay. He just listened, patiently.

I couldn't continue, the lump in my throat was too much. I wanted to cry, to scream, anything just to get rid of the lump that was blocking my airway.

I couldn't stop seeing her lifeless body on the sand. The ambulance sirens rang behind us, approaching as fast as they could, but they were too late. Too late to save her. Too late to stop me from ruining her life. She had big dreams. She wanted to see the world, to go on tour as a singer. But now her dreams had died with her. And I had to live with the guilt forever. I had to learn to live without her.

I remained quiet but he spoke softly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's a long time ago," I half shrugged.

I shoved all the images and memories back to the back of my mind. Trying to move on, like her parents had asked me to. I couldn't possibly imagine how much courage and restraint it must have taken for her grieving parents to utter those words to me, the person who drove their daughter to her death. "Be happy, Al. Taylor would have wanted you to be. She always bragged about how lucky she was to have met you. About how you were like the sister she never had. I want to blame you, Al, for dragging her out tonight but I can't. It wasn't your fault. You shouldn't live with the guilt." they'd said to me as they drove away in tears in the ambulance carrying their dead daughter.

He shook his head gently, "It doesn't matter how long ago it was. It's clear it's left a scar on your heart."

His words struck a chord, and I looked into his eyes, amazed by how he didn't pity me—he truly saw me. It urged me to continue.

"I've hated myself ever since. And the ocean. I developed PTSD related to the ocean. What if we hadn't gone surfing? She'd still be here. I ruined her life." My voice cracked again, tears spilling uncontrollably. I felt a strange mix of relief and vulnerability, as tears spilled unchecked. I was a mess, embarrassed that Levi was watching me so intently. I hurriedly wiped my tears away, about to apologise.

Levi's arms suddenly encircled me, surprising me. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but stop me if you hate this." Without waiting for a reply, he pulled me into a gentle hug.

I froze, surprised by the gesture, but I didn't push him away or pull back. I sat there in silence, feeling his warmth seep into me. The room spun slightly, and I relished the comfort of his embrace.

I should push him away, I thought.

I hated this feeling, so I should stop him, I thought.

But why couldn't I?

He placed one hand on my upper back and gently caressed my head with the other.

"None of that is your fault. You can't keep harbouring such hate toward yourself. You're only human. You need to forgive yourself, Alya." His voice was steady and reassuring.

His hug was surprisingly comforting, and I finally hugged him back. The blanket between us grew smaller as it hung on our bodies.

"Thank you, Levi," I whispered.

We stayed in that position for a while, the silence settling comfortably around us until I started to feel a little better.

"Ahem," I coughed softly, and he pulled away hurriedly.

"I'm really sorry about hugging you so abruptly," he said, avoiding eye contact.

"It wasn't what I was expecting, but it was comforting. Thank you," I smiled, genuinely appreciating his kindness.

He was unpredictable, that was for sure—yet kind too. It seemed clear that he didn't like to see anyone hurting. Well, safe to say, we both trauma-bonded.

"Alya, do you want to stay up all night and talk instead? Of course, you don't have to," he chuckled nervously. I couldn't help but laugh at his sudden shyness, but deep down, I wanted the night to last longer.

"Sure, we can!" I exclaimed with enthusiasm. My mind raced with a million ideas for topics to discuss, hoping they would magically make the night longer.

It did not.