An Unexpected Adventure

It was a few days before Christmas Eve, and here we were, walking through the snow-covered streets while trying to make the most of our last hours of freedom before the Grove family's holiday schedule took over completely. Amelia had already warned us that this week would be packed with special activities, but she hadn't given any details, which made me suspect it probably involved some kind of extravagant surprise. For now, however, we were simply enjoying the cold air and the twinkling Christmas lights on every corner.

"This is so peaceful," said Lindsay, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck as she gazed at the blinking lights of a nearby tree. "I love how everything feels magical during Christmas."

Olivia, of course, couldn't stay quiet for even a minute.

"Peaceful, yes, but boring. We need something more exciting. How about finding an ice-skating rink? Or better yet, a snowman-building contest!"

"A snowman-building contest?" I repeated, incredulous. "That sounds like something for five-year-olds, not for us."

Olivia glared at me.

"Sack, you have the Christmas spirit of a rock. Sometimes I think you were born without a soul."

"Thanks for the psychological analysis, Olivia," I replied, rolling my eyes. "But I still say building snowmen isn't exactly my idea of fun."

Lindsay chuckled softly.

"Leave him alone, Olivia. Sack would rather stay home reading books about… well, anything but snow."

Before I could defend myself, Olivia pointed excitedly toward the central square.

"Look! There's a Christmas fair. And… oh my God! There's a snowman-building contest! This is fate calling us."

"I'm not sure fate works like that," muttered Lindsay, but Olivia was already running toward the fair, dragging us along with her.

Once there, Olivia approached the contest organizer and, without consulting us, signed us up as a team. When she returned, she had a triumphant smile on her face.

"Done. We're officially participants. Now, let's get to work. We're going to create something epic."

"Something epic?" asked Lindsay, crossing her arms. "Olivia, we have twenty minutes. We can't build the Statue of Liberty in that time."

"We don't need the Statue of Liberty," Olivia responded, making a dramatic gesture. "We're going to create Broken Dreams . Inspired by our improvised band that only lasted one day."

"Our band that lasted one day because you forced us into it?" I asked, trying not to laugh. "This is going to be interesting."

"Exactly," said Olivia, ignoring my sarcasm. "It'll be symbolic. It represents our musical journey… even if it was brief."

Lindsay sighed.

"Alright, but don't expect it to be perfect. This is snow, not clay."

What followed was absolute chaos. Olivia took on the role of creative director, barking orders as if we were filming a movie.

"Sack, you make the base. Lindsay, you handle the details. I'll supervise everything from here."

"Supervise?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Of course I'm helping," Olivia replied, crossing her arms. "My job is to make sure this has soul. Without me, this would just be a pile of snow with no purpose."

As we worked, other teams started throwing playful snowballs at us. One of them hit Olivia right in the face, covering her in snow.

"Hey!" she shouted, wiping her face. "That was an act of war!"

"Welcome to the real world, Olivia," teased Lindsay, throwing a snowball back at the guilty team.

Soon we were in the middle of a small snowball fight, completely forgetting about the contest. That is, until Olivia reminded us that we had a timer running.

"Focus, people! Our artistic glory is at stake!"

Finally, we managed to shape something vaguely resembling Broken Dreams . It was a wobbly structure with three humanoid figures made of snow, each holding an imaginary instrument. Olivia insisted on adding a sign that read: "The band that broke hearts… and records."

When the final whistle blew, the judges came over to evaluate the creations. To our surprise, we won second place.

"Second place!" exclaimed Olivia, waving the free dinner coupon in front of us. "This is amazing. At least someone recognizes our talent."

"Talent for building snowmen, maybe," said Lindsay, laughing. "But don't get too excited, Olivia. We're not going to be famous for this."

"Never underestimate the power of creativity," Olivia responded with fake solemnity. "Though I admit our band never had a future."

On the way back to the Grove house, covered in snow and laughing about the absurd circumstances of the day, I couldn't help but think that this little adventure would be one of the most memorable moments of these holidays.

However, when we walked into the house, Amelia greeted us with a huge smile.

"Welcome back, everyone. I hope you're ready for something special."

"What kind of something special?" Olivia asked, curious.

Amelia gestured toward the living room, where there was a table filled with freshly baked cookies and cups of hot chocolate.

"I thought we could have a little late-night snack. Plus, I wanted to show you something I found in the attic."

"The attic?" Lindsay asked, intrigued.

Amelia disappeared for a moment and returned with an old photo album.

"There are some pictures from when I was young. I thought it would be fun to share some family memories."

Olivia's eyes widened.

"Old photos? This is better than gifts. I want to see them all!"

We sat around the table, eating cookies and flipping through the album. The photos showed Amelia in her youth, along with her family and friends. Olivia kept making comments about the hairstyles and fashion from that era.

"Who wore those wide pants?" Olivia asked, pointing at a picture. "They look like curtains."

"They were the 70s," Amelia replied, laughing. "Everyone wore them."

When we finished, we stayed there, laughing and chatting about how unexpected but wonderful the day had been.

"You know, Sack," Olivia said, leaning toward me with her usual dramatic tone, "maybe you should reconsider your lack of Christmas spirit. Today was amazing thanks to me."

"Thanks to you and your crazy ideas," I responded, smiling as I shook my head. "But yeah, it was a good day."

At that moment, something inside me clicked. Maybe it was the warmth of the house after being out in the snow for so long, or maybe it was just the cozy atmosphere Amelia had created with the cookies, hot chocolate, and old photos. Without overthinking it, I extended my arm and pulled Lindsay into a warm but light hug.

She didn't resist or seem surprised; on the contrary, she leaned into me completely, naturally, as if she had been waiting for that gesture without even realizing it. Her body relaxed against mine, and I felt all the chaos of the day—the snowball fight, the stress of the contest, the constant laughter—fade away in that instant.

Olivia looked over the photo album and pretended to gag behind her mug of hot chocolate.

"Ugh, adorable couple alert. If you keep this up, I'm going to need more cookies to handle it."

Lindsay shot her a playful look from over my shoulder.

"Shut up and keep looking at the photos, Olivia. No one asked for your commentary."

"Alright, alright," Olivia replied, raising her hands in surrender. "I'm just saying you should put a warning label on this level of cuteness. It might cause emotional diabetes."

Before we could respond, Thomas entered the room with a big smile and a second photo album under his arm.

"Ah, I see you're already enjoying the family memories!" he said, sitting down with us. "I thought you'd also like to see some photos from my younger days. I think you deserve to know about my glory days."

Olivia burst out laughing.

"Glory days? This is going to be good. Show us, Mr. Grove. I'm sure you were as cool back then as you are now."

Thomas opened the album proudly and began flipping through the pages slowly, stopping at each photo to share some funny or nostalgic story. There were pictures of him playing soccer in school, posing with friends at 70s parties, and, of course, several photos with Amelia when they were dating.

"Look at this one," Thomas said, pointing to a particular photo where he had long hair and a brightly colored shirt. "This was taken at a music festival. It was one of the best days of my life."

Olivia let out an impressed whistle.

"Wow, Mr. Grove, is that really you? You look like a mix between a hippie and a rock star. I love it."

Lindsay laughed, still leaning against me.

"Dad, you never told me you were so… extravagant in your youth."

"Well," Thomas replied, winking at her, "we all have our secrets. But I think your mother and I have always known how to balance fun with responsibility."

Amelia, who was sitting on the other side of the table, raised her mug of hot chocolate as if it were a champagne glass.

"That's why we've stayed together all these years, dear. Balance and tolerance. Though I'll admit, it took me a while to get used to your hair back then."

We all laughed, including Lindsay, whose laugh vibrated softly against my chest. It was strange how natural it felt to have her so close, as if she had always belonged there.

Olivia, always quick to seize any opportunity to joke, pointed to a photo of Amelia and Thomas dancing at a party.

"And here's proof that true love exists. Look how elegant you both looked. Who would've thought you'd end up being Lindsay's parents?"

"Hey," Lindsay interjected, giving Olivia a playful nudge, "don't start planning my future based on these photos. I already have enough pressure."

"Don't worry, Linds," Olivia said, grinning widely, "we're just gathering inspiration for your own epic love story. One day, you and Sack could be in an album like this."

I felt Lindsay tense slightly against me, though she didn't say anything. I decided to intervene before Olivia took things too far.

"I think you've had enough sugar today, Olivia. Maybe you should lay off the cookies and focus on the photos."

"Maybe," she replied, grabbing another cookie mischievously, "but I can't promise anything."

The night continued like that: with laughter, stories from the past, and Olivia's sarcastic comments.