The weekend arrived with a chill in the air, the kind that hinted at the approaching winter. A thin layer of mist clung to the village, softening the morning light as the family prepared for their outing. Inside their small home, the scent of tea lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of breakfast as Aunt Beatrice moved about, gathering her things.
"Dalian, make sure you have your scarf on," she called out, glancing over her shoulder as she scribbled something onto her shopping list.
Dalian, already bundled up in a thick sweater, tugged her scarf higher and gave a small nod. Across the room, Diane quietly adjusted her coat, her movements precise, methodical, as if she were merely going through the motions. Aunt Beatrice's husband, a quiet but steady presence in their home, stood near the door, waiting patiently as the girls finished getting ready.
The walk to the market was peaceful, their footsteps crunching against the cold ground. The village, though small, had come alive in preparation for the season. Wreaths adorned doorways, and faint melodies of holiday songs drifted from open windows. Dalian walked between Diane and Aunt Beatrice, her gaze flitting from one decorated home to another, a small spark of curiosity lighting her eyes.
As they reached the marketplace, a wave of warmth and noise engulfed them. Stalls stretched out in neat rows, draped in colorful fabrics and twinkling lights. The air was thick with the mingling aromas of roasted nuts, fresh bread, and the occasional spiced cider. Vendors called out, their voices rising above the hum of bustling shoppers, while children laughed as they weaved through the crowd. It was a world of movement and life, so different from the quiet routines they had grown accustomed to.
Dalian's fingers curled around the edge of her coat, her senses overwhelmed but intrigued. Diane, on the other hand, hesitated. Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene before them. It was clear she hadn't wanted to come, but here she was, standing in the midst of it all, uncertainty flickering behind her eyes.
Aunt Beatrice, unfazed by the energy surrounding them, took charge, her list held firmly in hand. "We'll start with the essentials," she announced, scanning the stalls with a practiced eye. "Flour, sugar, spices—whatever we can find. But keep in mind, this isn't the kind of market we used to go to. Some things, we might have to do without."
Dalian nodded, understanding the unspoken words beneath her aunt's statement. They weren't the same family they had once been. The grand Christmas celebrations of their past were now just memories, faint echoes of a life that had slipped away. But still, here they were, trying to make something of it.
They moved through the crowd, weaving between stalls, the rich blend of voices and scents surrounding them. Aunt Beatrice haggled with a vendor over the price of a bag of flour, her husband standing quietly by her side, his steady presence grounding them all. Dalian lingered near a stall selling small, handmade trinkets, her fingers brushing over a carved wooden ornament. It was simple but beautiful, the edges smoothed by careful hands. She didn't ask for it, knowing better than to bring up unnecessary purchases, but she traced the shape of it for a moment longer before stepping away.
Diane, initially distant, found herself slowly drawn into the rhythm of the market. At first, it was just small glances—watching as a baker skillfully braided dough, observing the way steam curled from a vendor's kettle of spiced tea. Then, without realizing it, she stopped at a stall selling fresh fruit, her fingers brushing over a crisp apple before she quickly pulled her hand back, as if catching herself in the act of indulging in something she wasn't supposed to want.
"You can have one, you know," Aunt Beatrice's voice cut through her hesitation. "It's just an apple."
Diane looked up, her expression unreadable for a beat before she reached into her pocket and quietly handed over a few coins. The vendor smiled as he handed her the fruit, his fingers dusted with the faint remnants of soil. Diane didn't eat it right away, simply holding it in her palm as they continued walking.
The deeper they ventured into the market, the more Dalian felt herself getting caught up in the experience. She marveled at the different fabrics draped over one stall, the intricate beadwork on a handmade necklace at another. It wasn't grand, and it wasn't what they used to have, but it was something. It was a moment outside of their usual struggles—a brief escape into a world that, despite everything, still had warmth to offer.
Aunt Beatrice finished gathering what they could, her expression unreadable as she looked down at their modest purchases. It wasn't everything they had hoped for, but it was enough. As they started heading back, Diane took a quiet bite of her apple, the crunch breaking the air between them. She didn't say anything, but Dalian caught the way her shoulders relaxed just slightly, as if, for today at least, she was willing to let herself exist in the moment.
The walk back home carried a different kind of warmth, one that had nothing to do with the lingering afternoon sun. Laden with bags, the family moved at a steady pace, their breath visible in the crisp air. Dalian's hands felt numb from gripping the handles too tightly, but she didn't complain. There was something oddly satisfying about returning home after a long morning at the market.
As they stepped inside, Aunt Beatrice nudged the door shut with her hip, immediately shaking off the cold from her coat. "Alright, everyone, let's get these unpacked before we freeze," she announced, setting down her bags with a heavy sigh.
Dalian let out an exaggerated groan as she dropped hers next to the table. "Do we have to do it now? What if we just pretend we bought air and let the bags sit here forever?"
Her uncle chuckled as he peeled off his gloves. "And let the onions sprout legs and run away? Not a chance."
Diane, already untying one of the bags, shot Dalian a knowing look. "You mean you want to sneak the pastries out first and leave the boring stuff for us?"
Dalian gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "I would never!"
Aunt Beatrice snorted. "You think I don't know you by now?" She reached into one of the bags and triumphantly pulled out a small wrapped bundle. "Nice try, but I'm keeping these safe until after dinner."
Dalian's shoulders sagged. "Betrayal."
"You'll live."
Diane, already focused on sorting the vegetables, shook her head at their antics but didn't hide her small smile. "I'll start washing these."
Her uncle lifted a sack of potatoes onto the counter with a grunt. "Dalian, you're on onion duty."
Dalian wrinkled her nose. "Why do I always get the ones that make me cry?"
Her uncle grinned. "Because you make the funniest faces."
Laughter filled the small kitchen as they worked, the earlier chill of the market forgotten. Bags rustled, the scent of fresh produce mingling with the warmth of the house. It wasn't grand, and it wasn't like the Christmases they used to know, but in this moment, it was enough.
And for the first time in a long while, it almost felt like home.
Monday morning arrived with the usual rush—students pouring into the school gates, the crisp air filled with chatter and the shuffle of hurried footsteps. Diane and Dalian walked side by side, adjusting their bags when a blur of movement came barreling toward them.
Lydia threw her arms around them, squeezing tight. "It feels like years since I saw you guys! I missed you!"
Diane chuckled, shaking her head. "It was just a weekend, Lydia. Two days."
Dalian laughed softly. "Still, we missed you too. It felt like ages."
Lydia pouted dramatically before linking arms with them, dragging them inside. "Come on, we need to catch up!"
The morning classes passed in their usual rhythm—lectures, note-taking, and the occasional lull where students stole glances at the clock, waiting for the break. When the bell rang, Lydia wasted no time pulling them toward their usual spot outside.
As they unwrapped their lunches, Lydia leaned in eagerly. "So, tell me everything! How was the weekend? You went to the market, right? Did you have fun?"
Dalian nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Yeah, it was nice. We got most of what we needed."
Lydia sighed dramatically. "I missed it. I want to go too! Should we go again?"
Diane shook her head. "We already bought everything we needed. There's no reason to go back."
Lydia gasped. "That's not fair! Then at least come with me! You don't have to buy anything. Just keep me company."
Dalian raised a brow. "Shouldn't you go with your family?"
Lydia waved a hand dismissively. "Ugh, my parents will take forever deciding what to buy. I'd rather go with you guys. Please?"
Dalian and Diane exchanged a glance. They could already tell Lydia wouldn't drop it until they agreed.
"Fine," Diane sighed. "We'll escort you."
Lydia beamed. "Yes! After school then."
When classes ended, they made their way back to the village market. It was just as lively as before, with vendors calling out their wares, the scent of roasted chestnuts drifting through the air. Lydia, as expected, wasted no time hopping from stall to stall, picking up every little thing that caught her eye.
Dalian crossed her arms, watching in amusement. "You said you only needed a few things."
Lydia grinned, holding up a handful of trinkets. "I did! But then I saw all this!"
Diane rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Just don't buy the whole market."
Lydia stuck her tongue out before turning back to a stall, bartering playfully with the vendor. The three of them walked through the market, laughter mixing with the festive chatter around them. For a moment, it felt like a simple, carefree evening—one where worries and responsibilities faded into the background, if only for a little while.
The evening air was cool when they finally made it back home, their arms weighed down by the bags Lydia had excitedly filled. The door creaked open, welcoming them into the warmth of the house, and they wasted no time kicking off their shoes. The baby, perched on Aunt Beatrice's hip, let out a soft babble, reaching for Dalian the moment she set down the last of the shopping bags.
"You missed me that much, huh?" Dalian cooed, lifting the chubby toddler into her arms. The baby let out a delighted squeal, tiny fingers gripping at Dalian's scarf.
Lydia plopped onto the floor, stretching her arms above her head. "I swear, I could sleep for a week after all that walking."
Diane, already halfway to their shared room, paused just long enough to glance over her shoulder. "That's because you spent the whole time running around grabbing everything you saw."
Lydia gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Are you saying I have bad shopping habits?"
"Yes," Diane and Dalian answered in unison.
Lydia huffed, but the corners of her lips twitched up in amusement. "Whatever. It was fun, and now I have snacks to last me through the week."
As the playful chatter continued, Aunt Beatrice set about organizing their purchases, carefully arranging the items on the kitchen counter. Dalian, still balancing the baby on her hip, joined her, reaching for one of the small wrapped sweets Lydia had insisted they buy. The baby's eyes followed the movement, lips parting in anticipation.
"Oh no, little one, this isn't for you," Dalian chuckled, tapping the baby's nose playfully. "You're still on the 'milk and mashed food' diet."
The baby let out a disgruntled noise, small hands waving in protest, and Aunt Beatrice laughed. "He's going to be just as stubborn as you when he grows up."
Dalian grinned but didn't argue. Instead, she shifted the baby onto her other hip and leaned against the counter. "You know, it wasn't too bad today. The market, I mean."
Aunt Beatrice arched a brow. "Oh? I thought you were dragging your feet at first."
"I was," Dalian admitted. "But…it felt nice. It reminded me of—" She stopped herself, not sure she wanted to say it aloud.
Aunt Beatrice didn't push. Instead, she reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Dalian's ear. "It's okay to enjoy things, sweetheart."
Dalian only nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat. The moment passed quickly as the baby let out a wide yawn, his small fingers curling into Dalian's sweater. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Looks like someone's ready for bed."
Aunt Beatrice took him from her arms with practiced ease. "I'll put him down. You and Diane should get some rest too. School's early tomorrow."
Dalian nodded, but as soon as Aunt Beatrice left, she flopped onto the couch beside Lydia, who had already made herself comfortable. The television flickered to life, the low hum of a late-night drama filling the quiet space.
"Should we really start a new episode?" Dalian mused, though she made no effort to move.
Lydia, already engrossed, waved her off. "We're in too deep to stop now."
Dalian let out a long-suffering sigh but sank deeper into the couch, eyes drawn to the screen. The characters on the show were arguing about something dramatic—probably love, betrayal, or some convoluted misunderstanding.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The warmth of the house, the soft drone of the television, and the weight of exhaustion made their eyelids heavy. More than once, Aunt Beatrice passed by and raised an eyebrow at them, but she said nothing, knowing they wouldn't budge until the episode ended.
Yawns became frequent, their heads lolling slightly as they fought off sleep. "Just one more episode," Lydia mumbled, voice drowsy.
Dalian huffed a quiet laugh. "You said that an hour ago."
But neither of them moved to turn it off.
The morning sun cast a pale glow over the school grounds as Diane and Dalian walked through the gate, their steps in sync with the familiar rhythm of another school day. The crisp winter air carried the murmur of students catching up after the weekend, some huddled in tight circles, others rushing to finish last-minute assignments.
Diane adjusted the strap of her bag, her gaze drifting towards the main entrance where Lydia was already waiting. The moment she spotted them, she waved them over with a grin.
"Finally, you're here!" Lydia said, falling into step beside them. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to take the day off."
Diane smirked, shaking her head. "Not likely."
Dalian nudged Lydia playfully. "We're not the ones who are always late, you know."
Lydia gasped in mock offense. "Hey, that was one time! And technically, it wasn't my fault."
They laughed together, the light-hearted moment settling into an easy comfort as they made their way to class. The warmth of their friendship made the cold morning a little more bearable, another ordinary day unfolding before them.
Later in the day, the classroom buzzed with an air of anticipation. The top students had been called for a special presentation project that would take place after Christmas, and today was the day they were assigned to groups. A large board stood at the front of the room with neatly written names under different topics.
Diane's fingers tightened around her pen as she scanned the board, reading the names in her group: Anna, Jack, and Diane.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips. She had hoped to work alone, as she always did, but she had no choice—this was a school requirement. She could already feel the weight of unwanted social interaction pressing on her shoulders.
Jack, on the other hand, was beaming. Tall, effortlessly handsome, and exuding confidence, he was the kind of student everyone admired. Smart, charming, and ambitious, he was the one most girls whispered about in the hallways. And now, he was in a group with Diane, the girl who kept to herself, who rarely entertained unnecessary conversations, and who was known for excelling in academics without relying on anyone else.
"Well, well, looks like we'll be working together," Jack said, his voice light with amusement as he leaned against the desk beside her. "I was hoping to be in the same group as you."
Diane barely glanced at him. "Let's just focus on the project."
Anna, a kind and soft-spoken girl, gave Jack a knowing look. "You do know Diane prefers her space, right?"
Jack smirked. "I've noticed. But it won't hurt to know each other a little, right? We'll be working together for a while."
Diane remained silent, flipping open her notebook and jotting down notes related to their assigned topic. She had no interest in pleasantries.
Jack tilted his head, watching her with intrigue. "You don't talk much, do you?"
Diane exhaled through her nose, finally looking up. "We have a deadline. That's what matters."
Jack chuckled but didn't push further. Instead, he exchanged glances with Anna, who simply shrugged. It was clear Diane wasn't the type to warm up easily, but Jack seemed oddly fascinated rather than deterred.
The rest of the class hummed with similar conversations, students settling into their groups, some chatting excitedly, others, like Diane, simply waiting for the process to be over so they could get back to work.
As the discussion went on, Diane made herself as small as possible within the group, speaking only when necessary. She would do her part, excel as she always did, but she had no interest in unnecessary attachments.
And yet, Jack's curious gaze lingered—patient, amused, and unreadable.
The discussion among the group stretched longer than expected, their voices a quiet murmur beneath the hum of the library. Anna tapped her pen against her notebook, glancing between Diane and Jack. "So… weekends, then?" she confirmed.
Jack leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin playing at his lips. "Sounds good to me. That way, we can focus properly without school distractions."
Diane gave a curt nod, her fingers idly adjusting the corner of her textbook. "That works."
She had hoped to get through this as quickly and efficiently as possible, but Jack was proving to be the kind of person who enjoyed lingering conversations—stretching out moments as if unwilling to let them slip away too soon. His gaze lingered on her whenever she spoke, his enthusiasm evident in the way he responded to even the simplest remarks.
Anna, ever the easygoing one, jotted down their next meeting time before standing up. "Alright, see you both on Saturday, then."
Diane stood as well, gathering her books, already planning her exit. But before she could take a step, Jack's voice cut in smoothly.
"I'll walk you home."
Diane froze briefly, then shook her head, adjusting her bag strap. "No need."
Jack chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, it's getting late. And besides, it's just a walk."
Diane glanced outside through the tall library windows. The sky had begun its descent into dusk, streaked with soft hues of orange and violet. She tightened her grip on her books. "I always go home alone. It's fine."
Jack tilted his head, studying her for a moment before raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it." His smile didn't waver. "See you this weekend, then."
Diane gave a small nod, turning on her heel. She didn't look back, but she could feel his gaze following her as she stepped away.
Somehow, she already knew Jack wasn't the type to give up easily.