Holidays

Severa's POV

Dinner had become our routine.

It wasn't something we planned, nor was it something we acknowledged out loud. It just... happened.

At first, it was convenience—we were staying in the same hotel, and Eugene usually finished work around the same time I did. Then it became habit—he would knock on my door or call me just as I was about to order room service. Eventually, it became unspoken—I would leave my door unlocked when I heard him walking down the hall, and he would walk in without needing to ask.

I wasn't sure when it started feeling normal, but I didn't question it.

Maybe it was because I usually woke up too late for breakfast, and dinner was the only meal we could share. Or maybe because, after everything, we understood each other better now. There were no more games, no more guarded conversations. We talked about everything—construction delays, material costs, legal disputes, even stupid things like who made the best coffee.

Eugene was still Eugene. Still frustrating, still confident, still someone who got under my skin.

But he wasn't a stranger anymore.

And I hated that I was getting used to this.

Nine months.

That's how long it had been since construction started. Nine months of long workdays, early mornings, and late nights. Nine months of overseeing every detail, solving every problem, making sure everything ran smoothly.

And now, for the first time in nearly a year, everything had to stop.

It was Christmas week.

We had no choice but to pause construction. Not just because of permits, but because it was only fair—our workers needed time to go home, see their families, and actually enjoy the holidays. Most of them had been away for months, living on-site, working tirelessly to keep the project on schedule. They deserved this break.

So while they packed up and prepared for their trips home, I found myself... lost.

Because I had nowhere to go.

I sat on the hotel balcony, watching the view of the now-empty construction site. The air was cold, the sky dark, and the lights of the city flickered in the distance. Christmas was everywhere—decorations, carols playing in the background, the scent of cinnamon and baked goods drifting from the hotel restaurant.

But it didn't feel like Christmas to me.

I should have been in Italy by now. That was the plan. My family expected me to fly back, to celebrate the holidays in our villa like we always did. My brother had even called last week, reminding me to book my flight before it was too late.

But I didn't.

Because the thought of going home felt... exhausting.

I wasn't ready to deal with the questions, the expectations, the forced small talk. I didn't want to sit at a dinner table where people would ask about my life, my future, my choices.

So I stayed here instead.

Alone.

A knock on my door pulled me out of my thoughts.

I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was almost midnight. I wasn't expecting anyone, but I already knew who it was.

I opened the door. "Eugene."

He stood there in a plain hoodie and jeans, holding a bag of takeout. "Figured you wouldn't have dinner."

I stepped aside to let him in, closing the door behind him. "You didn't have to."

"I know." He placed the food on the small table near the window. "But you weren't answering your phone."

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I was just... thinking."

Eugene sat down and started unpacking the food. "About what?"

I hesitated before answering. "Christmas."

He didn't say anything for a moment, then nodded as if he understood. "You're not flying to Italy?"

"No." I sat across from him. "You're not going back to Esperanza?"

"No."

We didn't need to explain.

We both knew what it was like to be in a place that didn't feel like home anymore.

Dinner was quiet but comfortable. Eugene had brought pasta and garlic bread from a restaurant downtown, and we ate in easy silence.

Then, as I was finishing the last bite, he leaned back in his chair and smirked. "So what now?"

I raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if we're not going anywhere, and construction is on hold, what are we supposed to do for the next week?"

I shrugged. "Work?"

Eugene chuckled. "That's the worst holiday plan I've ever heard."

"Then what do you suggest?"

He thought about it for a moment, then grinned. "Let's have a Christmas."

I blinked. "We are having Christmas. Technically."

"No, I mean an actual Christmas. Decorations, food, music—the whole thing."

I stared at him. "Eugene, there are two of us. We don't even have a tree."

"Then we'll buy one." He smirked. "Unless you're scared I'll make it look better than yours."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not five."

"Prove it."

I exhaled, shaking my head. "Fine. But if we do this, I'm in charge of decorations. You have terrible taste."

Eugene laughed. "Deal."

That night, I found myself standing in the middle of a 24-hour department store, staring at Christmas decorations while Eugene argued with a cashier about which lights were the best.

It was ridiculous.

It was completely unnecessary.

And yet, for the first time in weeks, I didn't feel so alone.

Maybe this wasn't the Christmas I expected.

But maybe it was exactly the one I needed.