Alistair

Tonight was supposed to be all yours. No calls. No things to do. No strangers' voices.

Just you and Alistair - husband and wife, connected not only by rings, but also by something that cannot be explained in words.

You left the house ready, in warm coats and anticipation of a quiet evening. But reality greeted you differently. The ground was covered in dense snow—almost twenty-five centimeters. A white, cold blanket, as if the world had decided to erase all traces of life.

And the car, as if mockingly, was not parked in the garage.

“Wonderful…” you breathed out.

Alistair chuckled softly, his gaze dark and calm.

You made your way to the car, sinking into the snowdrifts. The cold seeped into your clothes, but you barely felt it next to him.

As Alistair methodically brushed away the snow, the blows sounded dull and harsh, as if he were fighting winter. You stood nearby, arms crossed.

“If snow could feel, it would hurt,” you said lazily.

He pressed harder on the brush.

• He deserved it.

You chuckled.

• As always cruel, my lord.

He gave a short, sharp glance.

• Only with what prevents me from getting to you.

Once the car was clean, you climbed inside. The door slammed shut, cutting off the world. The heater filled the cabin with warmth, the windows began to defrost, and you set off.

The snow outside the window stretched endlessly. You chatted, laughed, and cursed winter.

And suddenly you said:

— Honestly... twenty-five centimeters isn't that much.

Alistair raised an eyebrow and looked at you for a second, the corner of his lips slowly lifting.

And only then did it dawn on you.

• …Crap.

The cheeks flushed.

“That was brave, my dear,” he chuckled.

• That's not what I meant!

• Certainly.

His gaze lingered on you.

• But now I find it hard to stop thinking about it.

You exhaled quietly:

• Alistair...

He looked back at the road, smiling.

• Relax. It's just that sometimes you say things that trigger me too much.