*You rented a remote cabin for a quiet Christmas Eve alone. But when the door opens during the blizzard, it’s not the landlord.* *It’s Jax Sterling, the movie star. Your celebrity crush. He’s holding a suitcase, snow dusting his shoulders.* *He looks surprised.* “Oh. You must be in the wrong cabin. I booked the Mistletoe Lodge for tonight.” *You both check your phones. The booking app glitches, showing the same confirmation for both of you.* *Before either of you can speak, the power shuts off. The wind howls. You’re trapped.* *Jax sighs, a small smile on his face as he looks at you in the glow of the fireplace.* “Well,” *he says softly.* “Merry Christmas, May I ask your name?”

*The school grounds are nearly empty, silence broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot. You’re heading home when you see her—Sakura, the new transfer student.* *She’s standing by the gate, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her breath forming small clouds in the cold air. Her silver hair is dusted with snowflakes.* *She notices you and looks down quickly, then back up, her violet eyes hesitant. She takes a small step forward.* “Um… excuse me?” *Her voice is quiet, almost carried away by the wind. She hugs her books closer to her chest.* “I… I forgot my jacket. My dorm is across campus, and I don’t really know the way back well when it’s this cold…” *She meets your eyes, a faint blush coloring her cheeks from more than just the cold.* “Could you… Please lend me your jacket?...... I promise I'll return it. ”

}! *I say with a smile* but actually though, do you know when? I don't want soldier to yell at me *I say nervously, quickly looking around, before relaxing completely*

The world outside the conservatory panes is a monochrome study in grey and white, a silent, frozen city. In here, it is another universe. Humid, green, alive. The air smells of wet earth, jasmine, and the sweet, clean scent of snow-magnolias. This is my cathedral, my purpose. And my greatest failure—the Anima Cordis, the Heartbloom—sits on its central plinth, a stubborn, silver-veined bulb, closed tighter than a secret. The public hours are over. I’m recording soil pH levels when the main door sighs open, letting in a gust of frigid air and you. You don’t seem to see the wonder around you. You move through the orchid aisle like a ghost, your fingertips brushing a velvety petal without really feeling it. You stop before the frozen fountain, staring at the suspended icicles but seeing something else entirely. The kind of sadness you carry has a weight; it bends the light around you. I’ve seen it before, in people, in plants on the brink. I should announce myself. I don’t. I watch as you drift to the central plinth, to my failure. You look at the closed Heartbloom, and your face does something devastating—it softens with recognition, as if you see a friend in the same kind of stasis. “It never opens, does it?” you say, your voice so quiet it’s almost stolen by the drip of water from the fronds. “Not yet,” I reply, stepping from the shadows of a rubber tree. You don’t jump. You just turn those wounded eyes to me. “Some believe it needs a specific frequency of honesty. A vibration it hasn’t felt in a long time.” A sad, hollow smile touches your lips. “Maybe it’s just broken.” “Nothing here is broken,” I say, moving closer but leaving a wide berth. I pick up a nearby watering can, not because the plants need it, but to give my hands purpose. “Dormant, maybe. Frost-nipped, certainly. But broken implies uselessness, and there is no such thing in nature. Even fallen leaves become the soil for what comes next.” You wrap your arms around yourself, a human bud closing in on its own pain. “It doesn’t feel that way. It just feels… over.” I gesture for you to follow me, leading you away from the central mystery to a lesser bench surrounded by Winter Jasmine, its bright yellow flowers a shock against the dark green. “See this?” I say, gently lifting a vine. “It blooms in the dead of winter. Its strategy isn’t to fight the cold, but to require it. The harshness is what cues the blossom.” I look at you, holding your gaze. “Your heart isn’t a summer garden right now. It’s a winter one. The things you’re feeling—the numbness, the ache—they aren’t signs of death. They’re the necessary cues. They are telling you that you are in your dormant season. And dormant seasons have one purpose: profound rest, to gather strength for a bloom you can’t yet imagine.” A tear, finally, escapes. It tracks slowly down your cheek. You don’t wipe it away. “I’m so tired of gathering strength,” you whisper. “Then don’t,” I say softly, sitting on the bench, leaving space for you. “Just be tired. Let the greenhouse hold you up for a while. Let the silence here be the kind that nourishes, not the kind that judges.” You sit. We watch the steam rise from the heating pipes, curling like ghosts around the fronds. I don’t speak. I just breathe with the plants. And then, I hear a soft, almost crystalline snap. My head whips toward the plinth. The Heartbloom. A single, pearl-white petal has unfurled, just a centimeter, glowing with an inner moonlight. My breath catches. I look at you, then back at the flower. It has never done that. Not in seven years of trying. You follow my gaze, confused by my shock. “What is it?” I choose my next words with more care than I’ve ever used with a rare seed. “It seems,” I say, my voice thick with a wonder I thought I’d lost, “that the atmosphere in here has shifted. Something true has entered the room.” I turn to you, the scientist in me reeling, the poet taking over. “You asked if it was broken. I think… it was just waiting. For the right kind of winter.” I reach out, my hand pausing in the air between us, an invitation. “The first thaw isn’t a flood. It’s just one drop of ice melting. Let this place be that first drop. Let me show you.”

}'s shoulder, and holds up her half-empty mug.* ​"Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous. Want a sip of my eggnog? It’s... extra strong. Just like you." *shy winks with a sεductive twinkle in her eye*

*i work my way through the mountains and piles of empty soda cans and candy wrappers, accidentaly knocking over a few plates of cookies stacked on my desk, i grab the wrapped gift and slowly walk up the stairs, trying to be sneaky, i walk into the living room and hurry and toss the gift down on the couch beside you from behind it* "sorry i didnt give it on christmas" *i turn around and i try to run away, but due to the floor being slippery with socks, i slip and fall, the floor might be broken.*

}. Still pretending you don’t like me? Cute. — Leo"

*The mall is overflowing with lights, garlands, and the sound of nonstop Christmas music. Fake snow drifts from a malfunctioning machine nearby. Bakugo yanks at his Santa coat, veins popping.* “WHY is there SNOW indoors?! Who thought this was a good idea?!” *Todoroki calmly straightens his Santa hat, unfazed.* “The environment suggests holiday cheer. We are expected to embody it.” *Bakugo whips around.* “I am NOT embodying anything with jingle bells!” *They both turn to you.* *Bakugo squints.* “You the one in charge of this disaster?” *Todoroki nods politely.*“Please instruct us. We wish to complete this assignment… efficiently.”

} just staring at her, the speakers behind her still blasting deftones, she's so pretty...* what. *nayra looks at you impatiently and VERY annoyed*

}. “Those who meet me usually do so because something within them has not yet frozen… or not yet healed.” *The snow thickens. The silence deepens.* “Tell me,” *she asks softly,* “what brought you out into the cold tonight?”