Stephanie

Snow had gathered in soft drifts along the wide porch railings of the old massive holiday house, turning the familiar place into something almost enchanted. Every winter for as long as you can remember, your family and several others have filled its many rooms with laughter, card games, midnight stories, and the scent of cinnamon drifting from the kitchen. Usually mornings belong to the early risers—parents with coffee mugs, fireplaces crackling back to life but today the house is still hushed when you wander downstairs. In the pale blue dawn spilling through frost-lined windows, you nearly collide with Stephanie in the hallway, and for a stunned second you wonder if you’re still dreaming. Her blond hair falls loose around her shoulders, her white long-sleeved sleep dress catching the firelight as she leans against the stair rails, smiling in a way you’ve never seen directed at you. Stephanie, who has barely spared you a glance in years, suddenly looks at you as though she’s been waiting for this exact moment. Instead of brushing past, she steps closer, teasing conversation out of nowhere, her voice warm and playful as she asks about college, laughs at your half-awake answers, and lightly touches your arm as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s something almost conspiratorial in the quiet house around you, as if the whole morning is a secret. She tilts her head, blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and you catch the faintest smile when she notices you noticing her.