Chapter 90: Chapter 89. Gray Ice

Chapter 89

Mason and Wendy

Wendy sat on the edge of Mason's bed, her legs crossed beneath her and a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. One hand was firmly pressed over her eyes, her fingers splayed out just enough to let in the tiniest peek—though she quickly shut it again when Mason caught her.

"No peeking," Mason warned from across the room, his voice laced with amusement.

"I'm not!" she giggled, her voice bubbling with excitement. "I swear!"

"You're the worst liar," he muttered fondly, walking toward her with a carefully wrapped gift in his hands.

Wendy's heart fluttered as she heard his footsteps grow closer. She could feel the energy buzzing in the room, her curiosity nearly boiling over. Her grin widened when she felt the bed shift beneath his weight as he sat beside her.

"Okay," he said at last. "You can look now."

Wendy peeled her hand away and gasped softly when she saw the box in his hands—an elegant pink box tied with a big, silky bow. The color alone made her heart skip, and her fingers reached out almost reverently to touch it.

"Merry Christmas," Mason grinned, kissing her cheek.

"What is this?" she asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow, though the excitement dancing in her eyes betrayed her curiosity.

"Open it and see," Mason said, his voice warm and a little smug.

Wendy glanced at him, narrowing her eyes playfully. "If this is a trick, I swear..."

"It's not a trick," he laughed, nudging her knee gently with his own. "Just open it."

With a dramatic breath, Wendy untied the silky ribbon and lifted the lid. Her eyes widened the second she saw what was inside.

Nestled carefully in tissue paper was a delicate pair of soft pink ballet slippers, the satin gleaming under the soft lighting of the room. Tucked beside them was a folded card, and when she opened it, she found a printed pass for a full season of ballet classes.

Her breath hitched as she looked from the slippers to the pass and back again, speechless for a moment as her heart swelled.

"Mason..." she whispered, fingers tracing the edge of one slipper like it was something precious. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," he said softly, watching her reaction closely.

Wendy's eyes gleamed, her smile radiant as she looked up at him. "I can't believe you did this."

"You deserve to do the things that make you feel alive," Mason said, brushing her hair behind her ear gently. "And I want to be the kind of person who gives you space to be all the versions of yourself—especially the one that wears pink slippers and twirls around a studio."

Wendy laughed as she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly. "This is the best gift anyone's ever given me," she whispered against his lips.

Mason grinned, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. "Well, you better use it. I expect full performances in the bedroom."

She giggled against him. "You'll regret that when I start pirouetting around the coffee table."

"Never," he said, kissing the top of her head. "You'll be the most beautiful chaos I've ever seen."

Wendy glanced up at Mason, still cradling her ballet slippers in her lap, her smile soft and giddy.

"Okay," she said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Are you ready for your gift now?"

Mason leaned back slightly, propping himself on his hands with a lazy grin. "Of course I am," he said confidently. "Been waiting all morning for it."

Wendy laughed and hopped off the bed, crossing the room to where her bag sat tucked in the corner. She rummaged inside, her fingers closing around a box she had carefully wrapped. Turning around, she held it out to him with both hands, a touch of mischief in her smile.

The box was wrapped in brightly colored dinosaur paper—tiny cartoon T-Rexes and stegosauruses in party hats dancing across it, complete with crooked tape and a tag that read To Mason, From Your Favorite Person Ever.

Mason burst into laughter the moment he saw it. "Are those—dinos?"

Wendy gave an exaggerated shrug, trying not to grin. "I thought it suited your vibe."

"It's perfect," he said, still chuckling as he took the box from her hands. "Absolutely perfect."

He peeled away the tape and paper, trying not to tear the goofy little dinos too badly. As he lifted the lid of the box, his amused expression shifted—his brows rising, his mouth parting slightly in surprise.

Inside sat a sleek, high-end camera—the exact model he'd been eagerly waiting for to release.

"Baby..." he said, his voice low and filled with awe as he lifted it gently from the box, turning it over in his hands like it was something sacred. "This is the one I've been talking about."

"I know," she said softly, watching his face light up. "I've been listening. They released early in Japan and I made a few calls to friends I made over the years to snag one up."

He looked up at her, a grin slowly stretching across his face. "You really are my favorite person ever."

Wendy gave him a playful curtsy. "I do try."

Mason pulled her back into his lap, camera still in one hand, and kissed her temple. "This is incredible. I can't wait to use it."

"I figured you'd say that," she said with a smile, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wendy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned back in Mason's lap, her fingers tracing the edge of the camera still in his hand. "You can start with me," she said, her tone light and teasing. "Since you love taking pictures of me so much."

Mason raised a brow, amused. "Oh, is that part of the Christmas present too?"

She grinned. "Yes, but don't get used to it. I don't pose for you all the time, so consider this a rare gift. One-of-a-kind, limited edition."

Mason chuckled, shaking his head. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm serious," she said, already moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She tugged down the oversized t-shirt she'd borrowed from him, smoothing it over her thighs. Her bare legs swung slightly, her hair tousled from earlier, cheeks still warm from laughter and kisses. She looked effortlessly beautiful—like something out of a dream.

"Alright, I'm ready," she announced, sitting up a little straighter and flashing him a wide, radiant smile. "Make me look pretty, camera boy."

Mason's heart clenched a little at the sight of her—so soft, so real, sitting there in his t-shirt with that big smile that always made everything in his world a little brighter.

He lifted the camera, already adjusting the lens, his fingers moving instinctively. "Wendy Darling..." he said, voice low with awe, eyes never leaving her. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Wendy laughed softly, holding her pose, but there was warmth in her eyes, something tender and full of quiet affection. "Then capture it," she whispered. "Before I change my mind."

And with that, Mason snapped the photo—his favorite shot already framed in his mind before the shutter even clicked.

Wendy tilted her head to one side, a soft smile playing on her lips as Mason snapped another picture. The gentle curve of her neck, the playful glint in her eye—it was the kind of moment Mason loved capturing most. Something quiet and real, just her being her.

He lowered the camera slightly, still grinning. "Beautiful," he murmured.

She wrinkled her nose and gave him a teasing look. "Why do you call me 'Wendy Darling' when you're in a mood like this?"

He chuckled. "That's because of Peter Pan."

Her brows drew together, the corners of her mouth twitching in confusion. "Peter Pan?"

Mason paused. "Yeah... you know—Wendy Darling? From the story?"

Wendy's confused expression deepened, and she blinked at him. "Wait... like Peter Pan with the green tights and flying children?"

Mason stared at her, stunned. "You've... never watched Peter Pan?"

She shrugged with a sheepish laugh. "I mean, I know who he is, sort of. But I've never actually seen it."

Mason looked genuinely scandalized, the camera slipping slightly in his hands. "You're joking."

"I'm not!" she said through a giggle. "Why do you look personally offended?"

"Because it's Peter Pan! It's a classic! You're literally Wendy. How have you gone your whole life without watching it?"

Wendy laughed harder now, clearly enjoying his dramatic reaction. "Well, maybe now you'll have to fix that. Add it to the list of things you need to show me."

Mason shook his head in disbelief, but his smile never faded. "I can't believe this. You're lucky you're cute, Wendy Darling."

______________________

Lily

The room was dim and quiet, wrapped in the soft stillness of late night. Lily was curled beneath her blanket, tangled in sleep, her cheek smushed against the pillow and her lashes casting delicate shadows on her skin. Her breath rose and fell in a slow, peaceful rhythm—completely unaware of the world outside her dreams.

The door creaked open gently.

"Lily," Wendy whispered, peeking into the room with a caution. She padded in quietly, holding a phone in her hand, the screen still glowing.

"Lily," she said again, nudging her friend's shoulder with the back of her hand. "Wake up. Your boyfriend wants to talk to you."

Lily stirred, groaning softly as she cracked one eye open, blinking in confusion. Her hair was a sleepy mess, and her face still wore the dazed softness of slumber.

"Huh?" she mumbled, voice thick and hoarse. "What time is it?"

"Don't worry about that," Wendy said with a smirk, pressing the phone into Lily's hand. "Gabriel's on the line. He insisted."

Still disoriented, Lily blinked again, squinting at the screen before slowly bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

There was a beat of silence, followed by Gabriel's voice—low and warm, but unmistakably amused.

"Angel," he breathed, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice. "You sound like you just woke up from a hundred-year nap."

Lily let out a sleepy huff, her lips twitching upward slightly. "I did," she muttered, still trying to piece together reality.

Gabriel chuckled softly. "Glad you answered, though. Was starting to think you were ignoring me on purpose. I've been calling you since last night."

Lily shifted in bed, her sleepiness fading slightly as she furrowed her brows. "Why would I ignore you?"

"Oh, I don't know," he teased lightly. "Maybe because I went to a party where my ex happened to be? Thought maybe you'd be brooding in some dramatic silence."

Lily froze for a second, half-aware of the simmering emotions that had consumed her earlier. But hearing his voice now—familiar, tender, real—made it all feel less sharp.

"I wasn't brooding," she grumbled, but it came out softer than she intended.

"Uh-huh," Gabriel teased, still grinning. "So I didn't have to bother Wendy to wake up a green-eyed monster after all?"

Lily sighed, cheeks heating faintly again as she sank deeper into the pillow. "You're lucky I'm too tired to fight with you."

Gabriel's voice dropped just a little, fond and gentle now. "I am lucky. And I know that."

"Good," Lily smiled, her eyes closed.

"Now, can you please pick up your own phone?" Gabriel asked. "Wendy said she will stab me if I ever call her again."

"Fine," Lily muttered. "Bye."

Lily groaned softly as she handed Wendy her phone back, still half-tucked beneath the blanket. "Here," she mumbled, eyes barely open.

Wendy took it with a smug grin. "You're welcome, by the way." She turned toward the door, chuckling under her breath. "I swear, you two are like a full-time soap opera."

Lily didn't respond, just sank deeper into her pillow. But before Wendy could even close the door behind her, Lily's own phone began to buzz from the nightstand.

She cracked one eye open and reached out sluggishly, grabbing it. Gabriel's name flashed across the screen—and right beneath it, a string of unread messages.

Her thumb hovered as she opened them.

"I didn't know she was going to be here."

"I miss you."

"Still awake... call me when you can."

"You're not mad, right?"

"Angel?"

"Pick up your phone, florocita."

Lily's chest tightened a little, a wave of guilt rising in her throat. He'd been texting her all night—checking in, worrying, trying to reach her while she was too busy sulking and then falling asleep.

She exhaled, biting her lip, and finally answered the call.

"Hey," she said softly, curling onto her side.

Gabriel's voice came through instantly, warm with relief. "Took you long enough."

"I saw your texts," she murmured.

There was a pause, then his voice softened again, calm and teasing. "I was starting to think I needed to file a missing person's report."

Lily gave a tired laugh, eyes fluttering shut again. "You're dramatic."

"Maybe," he said, and then his tone shifted—quieter, more earnest. "But I meant what I said. I didn't know Vanessa was going to be there."

Lily didn't respond right away, just curled tighter under the blanket, her heart beating a little faster at the mention of Vanessa.

Gabriel sighed on the other end, like he could feel the silence settling between them. "I swear, I only saw her for a few seconds. She said hi. That was it. I didn't even talk to her after that."

Lily stayed quiet, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her pillowcase.

"And that stupid post Alexa made," he continued, his voice sharpening with frustration. "I'm furious about it. I don't know why she would do some shit like that."

Lily blinked, her chest twisting a little.

"We got into a screaming match after the party," Gabriel added. "I told her it was disrespectful and messed up, especially knowing you'd see it."

Lily opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling now, her voice barely a whisper. She didn't know what to say. The ache inside her chest continued to grow, sticking to her insides like glue.

"She's not acting like herself lately," Gabriel muttered. "And it's pissing me the fuck off. She's so childish. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Lily could hear the sincerity in his voice—the frustration, the protectiveness.

"Okay," she whispered finally.

"Okay?" Gabriel repeated gently.

"Yeah," she said. "Thank you... for standing up for me."

"I always will," he replied without hesitation. "You're mine. No one gets to mess with you—not even my sister."

Lily closed her eyes again, that small, sleepy smile returning to her lips. "You're still dramatic."

"Yeah, but I'm yours," he said softly.

And this time, she didn't argue.

Gabriel's voice warmed with a smile on the other end of the line. "By the way, I got your Christmas gift today."

Lily's eyes fluttered open again, a little spark of anticipation rising in her chest. "You did?"

"Yeah," he said, a low chuckle rumbling through the phone. "The helmet is perfect. You didn't have to, but damn, baby... it's beautiful."

A shy grin tugged at her lips. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," he laughed. "Matte black with that sleek visor? You've got taste, baby girl."

Lily's cheeks warmed, even in the dark. "I'm glad you like it."

"Thank you," Gabriel said sincerely. "I'm gonna think of you every time I put it on."

"Good," she mumbled, trying to hide how giddy that made her feel. "It's not just a gift. It's also for your safety so please wear it.

"For you? Always."

__________________________

Theo and Daphne

The morning sun spilled gently through the windows of the Silvano grand dining room, casting a golden glow across the breakfast table. The scent of fresh coffee, buttery croissants, and sizzling eggs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery on fine china. Daphne sat beside Theo, her fingers loosely wrapped around a steaming mug, her body relaxed but her eyes bright with quiet contentment.

Theo's hand rested casually on the back of her chair, his thumb brushing against her shoulder now and then like a subtle tether—as if he couldn't help keeping some part of himself connected to her.

Across the table, Lily reached for a glass of orange juice, her gaze flicking curiously to Daphne.

"So... what did Theo get you for Christmas?" she asked, grinning. "Diamonds? A castle? A baby tiger?"

Theo smirked, barely missing a beat. "I just bought her a house," he said airily, reaching for a croissant with exaggerated nonchalance. "I have to have another gift now?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "He's insufferable," she muttered fondly, then turned her wrist slightly, letting the delicate silver charm bracelet on her arm catch the light.

"But actually..." she said, holding it out for Lily to see, "he got me this."

Lily leaned in with interest, her face lighting up as she admired the bracelet. "Oh—it's beautiful. Wait, what do the little charms mean? Let me see."

Daphne's fingers gently traced over the small, intricate trinkets dangling from the chain. "This one's for our engagement," she said, pointing to a tiny ring-shaped charm. "This one's for our wedding." A delicate heart-shaped charm with a tiny inscription shimmered beneath her touch. "This one's for the house..." She smiled as her finger moved to a little key-shaped charm.

"And this one," she added softly, brushing the smallest charm of all—a dainty silver rattle—"is for our baby."

There was a pause—just a beat—before Wendy, who had been half-listening while buttering her toast, suddenly looked up, wide-eyed.

"Wait—are you pregnant?" She whispered as Lily and her leaned in closer.

Daphne grinned wickedly and winked. "Not yet," she said with a coy sip of her coffee, "but I plan to be soon."

Lily grinned from ear to ear as she wiggled in her seat, "I'm going to be a zia." She sang in a sing-song voice.

Wendy's smile slowly softened into something more cautious. She set her fork down and leaned forward in her chair, eyes narrowing just slightly as she studied Daphne.

"You don't want to wait a little?" she asked gently, concern threading through her voice. "I mean... you and Theo are just about to get married. Why not enjoy the newlywed life for a while first—travel, sleep in, be spontaneous?"

Daphne glanced at her, her expression calm but certain, fingers absently tracing over the baby rattle charm on her bracelet.

"I think it's a great idea," Lily chimed in brightly before Daphne could respond. "Honestly, they'd make such adorable parents. And that baby would be ridiculously good-looking." She grinned across the table. "You'd be glowing, Daphne."

Wendy shook her head a little, not unkindly. "I'm not saying it's not going to be a beautiful baby, I just..." She looked between them, her gaze lingering on Theo for a moment. "You guys have the rest of your lives to start a family. What's the rush?"

Daphne gave her a soft smile, the kind that came from a place of quiet certainty rather than impulse.

"It's not about rushing," she said. "We've talked about this a lot—me and Theo. We really want a baby. We're ready."

Theo's hand slid from the back of her chair to rest gently over hers, a subtle gesture of agreement and support as he listened in now then them while still maintaining his conversation with Levi and his father.

Wendy still looked unsure, worry flickering faintly in her eyes, but she didn't push further.

Daphne held her gaze for a moment longer, then added, "Besides... some people wait their whole lives to feel this sure about something. I'm not going to ignore that just because it isn't what everyone else would do."

Theo glanced sideways at her, eyes warm, the corner of his mouth curving up.

Wendy was quiet for a moment, swirling her spoon in her coffee absentmindedly as conversation bubbled on around her. Then, softly, almost like she couldn't stop herself from asking, she looked at Daphne again.

"But... how did you know?" she asked, voice barely above the hum of the morning chatter. "That Theo was the one. That this is really what you want—for the rest of your life."

Daphne turned toward her slowly, surprised by the question—not because it was asked, but because of how vulnerable Wendy sounded when she said it.

Wendy offered a small shrug, as if trying to downplay her own curiosity. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just... I don't know. It's hard to imagine being that sure about anything"

The girls quieted a little as the questions sunk in. Lily glanced at her best friend curiously, as if wondering why she was asking such a question to a woman who was about to get married in a day or two. Daphne, on the other hand, looked thoughtful for a beat, then gently set her mug down, lacing her fingers together on the table.

"I didn't wake up one day and just know," she said honestly. "It wasn't a lightning bolt or some fairy tale feeling." She glanced at Theo. "It was little things. The way he listens. The way he holds space for me—without needing me to be perfect all the time."

Her voice grew softer, but steadier. "I know what I want because I know who I am when I'm with him. Not smaller. Not changed. Just... more me."

She smiled, almost to herself. "There was never a moment where I sat down and mapped it all out. But I've never doubted what I feel with him. I've never questioned the life we're building. That certainty—it doesn't always come all at once. But it grows. And once you feel it, it's hard to imagine anything else."

Wendy looked at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable—somewhere between admiration and quiet longing. Then she looked away, blinking quickly.

"I guess that kind of love just... sounds really rare," she said softly.

"It is," Daphne said, gently. "But when you find it—you don't want to waste time pretending you need more time to be ready."

______________________

Rose

Rose huffed dramatically, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck as a gust of cold wind whipped past.

"I swear, it's like every tourist in the country decided to crowd this sidewalk today," she grumbled, stepping aside to avoid bumping into a family snapping selfies in front of a hot cocoa stand. "Who even wants to be in the city on Christmas Day? It's freezing, loud, and I've already been elbowed twice."

Lily chuckled softly, nudging Rose's shoulder with a gloved hand. "Come on, try to have fun. Wendy's been looking forward to ice skating for weeks," she said, glancing toward their friend, who was already bouncing with excitement ahead of them. "And Mason really wanted to take you skating by the big tree. Don't ruin his Hallmark movie moment."

Rose rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Ugh, fine. But if I fall on my face, I'm blaming the tourists and you."

"You'll be fine," Lily teased, linking her arm with Rose's. "Just pretend you're the main character in a cute winter romance."

"Only if the main character gets hot chocolate and a seat away from the crowd afterward."

"Deal."

They walked on, the towering Christmas tree glowing in the distance, laughter and chatter echoing through the chilly air.

The group shuffled into the rental booth, the scent of worn leather and the faint chill of cold metal filling the air. Rose tapped her fingers impatiently against the counter as Mason helped Wendy choose her skate size, while Lily sat on the wooden bench, tugging at the laces of her too-stiff rental skates with a small sigh.

"Do these things ever feel comfortable?" Lily muttered, wiggling her toes awkwardly.

"Only if you've lost all circulation," Rose replied dryly, already lacing up her skates with practiced ease. She stood up smoothly, balancing on the narrow blades with a confidence that made Lily narrow her eyes.

The moment they stepped onto the rink, the differences between them were clear. Rose glided onto the ice like she'd been born on it, her posture relaxed, movements fluid and graceful as she effortlessly weaved around couples and children. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, hair bouncing beneath her beanie as she picked up speed, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"She's showing off," Lily said, half-joking, half-envious as she clung to the edge of the rink, carefully testing her balance.

"She's a menace," Mason laughed, watching Rose spin in a small loop before skating backward like it was nothing.

Meanwhile, Wendy was clinging tightly to Mason's hand, her laughter ringing out every time she wobbled. "I swear I'm going to fall on my face," she gasped, gripping his arm tighter.

"You won't. I've got you," Mason reassured her, keeping a slow and steady pace, his eyes never leaving hers.

Lily finally pushed off from the edge, her arms outstretched for balance. "Okay, I can do this," she murmured, trying to copy Rose's posture—shoulders back, knees slightly bent—but it was more cautious shuffling than actual skating.

Rose skated by effortlessly, circling around the group with a smug grin. "You're doing great, Lily," she called out sweetly. "Really elegant. Very penguin-chic."

"Don't make me throw a snowball at you," Lily said through gritted teeth, though she couldn't help but laugh.

The music playing through the speakers, the sparkle of fairy lights strung around the rink, and the backdrop of the towering tree made the moment feel like something out of a storybook—even if Lily was clinging to survival and Rose was clearly on her way to becoming a winter Olympian.

Rose picked up speed with a mischievous glint in her eye, coasting to the center of the rink where there was just enough space for her to show off. She tucked her arms in and leaned slightly into a graceful spin, her skates slicing clean arcs into the ice beneath her. A few nearby skaters slowed to watch, clearly impressed by the smooth, practiced twirl she was pulling off.

"Show-off," Lily muttered from the sidelines, wobbling as she tried to mimic a simple glide.

But just as Rose hit the peak of her spin, a boy around her age skated into her orbit—tall, dark-haired, clearly confident on the ice but not expecting a human tornado in his path. Neither of them saw it coming.

Rose's skate clipped his leg mid-turn.

There was a collective gasp from nearby skaters as the two collided and went sprawling across the ice in a tangle of limbs. Rose landed hard—right on top of him, her palms pressed against his chest to brace the fall.

"Oh my god—ow," she gasped, blinking in disoriented shock as she tried to catch her breath.

The boy groaned beneath her, head tilted to the side. Rose lifted her head, ready to tell him off for not watching where he was going when she saw the thin, angry line of red trailing down from just above his left eyebrow. Her skate must've caught him on the way down.

"Oh no," Rose breathed, eyes widening in horror. "You're bleeding—my skate—did I—did I cut you?!"

The boy winced slightly, bringing a hand to his forehead, but when his gaze lifted to hers, Rose's words caught in her throat.

His eyes—light gray, almost silver under the bright rink lights—met hers with startling clarity. For a moment, the cold air, the crowd, even the sting of embarrassment faded into a blur. His face, though slightly scrunched in pain, was handsome in a sharp-edged way—strong jawline, tousled dark hair falling across his brow, a faint dimple visible even as he grimaced.

Rose leaned in closer, still hovering over him, kneeling on the ice with concern tightening her expression. Without thinking, she reached out and gently cupped his face with both hands, tilting it toward the light. Her fingers brushed along his cheekbone as she studied the gash with worry.

"You're definitely gonna need stitches," she murmured. "God, I'm so sorry. Are you blind?! Did you not see me?!"

The boy's brows furrowed, his eyes narrowing as if he couldn't believe she was asking him such questions. But as his brows knit together, he immediately winced from the pain. Just as he started to respond, the air shifted—sharp and urgent.

From the edge of the rink, three men in all black suddenly burst onto the ice. Their heavy boots clattered against the frozen surface as they stormed straight toward them with terrifying speed.

"What the—" Rose started, pulling back instinctively.

Before she could fully process what was happening, the men reached them. One grabbed the boy by the arm, yanking him roughly to his feet. Another shoved between Rose and him, nearly knocking her over in the process.

"What the fuck!" she shouted, scrambling to get her footing. "What are you doing?! He's hurt!"

The boy's eyes locked with hers one last time over his shoulder—there was something flickering there now, a flash of strange amusement.

He looked as if he wanted to say something but before he could, one of the men shoved his head down and dragged him off the ice. The trio disappeared into the crowd, cutting through startled skaters like shadows vanishing into fog.

Rose stood frozen, stunned, the sound of the world rushing back into her ears—music, murmurs, startled gasps from the crowd, the sharp sting of the cold beneath her.

"What the hell just happened?" she whispered, breath catching in her throat.

Lily skated over as fast as she could, eyes wide. "Oh my god, what happened?!"

"I almost murdered him," Rose said flatly, still frozen in place, crouched awkwardly over the ice.

Mason and Wendy skated up right behind Lily, their faces etched with concern.

"Are you okay?" Wendy asked, out of breath. "That was—what just—was that guy bleeding?"

"Yeah," Rose mumbled, still staring at the empty space where the boy had been moments ago. "I cut his eyebrow. But then—these men just showed up. Out of nowhere. They grabbed him."

Mason frowned. "What do you mean grabbed him?"

"They dragged him off the ice." Rose shook her head, her pulse racing. "It was weird. And he—he looked like he wanted to say something to me before they shoved him away."

Lily's brows pulled together. "Are you saying someone kidnapped him? Right here? In front of everyone?"

"I don't know!" Rose snapped, her voice edged with panic as she finally pushed herself up off the ice. "I need to find him."

"Rose—wait!" Mason called, but she was already skating away, cutting fast across the ice toward the rink's edge where the three men had vanished.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled out of the rink and onto solid ground, yanking off her skates as fast as her shaking hands would allow. She didn't care that the laces knotted or that she scraped her fingers on the hooks—she just needed to move, to follow, to find him.

Rose sprinted out of the rink, her skates abandoned on the bench behind her, the icy wind slapping her cheeks as she pushed through the thick holiday crowd. Her boots thudded on the pavement, slipping slightly as she rounded the corner just in time to see them—three men in black suits, practically shoving the boy into a sleek black car parked by the curb.

"Wait!" she shouted, her voice cracking over the roar of the city.

The boy twisted in their grip, one foot still resisting the car's floorboard. His eyes flicked up at the sound of her voice—light gray, startlingly clear even from a distance—and for a brief second, their gazes locked.

He smirked.

It wasn't mocking—it was surprised. Like he hadn't expected her to chase after him. Like he was... impressed.

Rose surged forward, her breath misting in the air. "Hey!" she yelled again. "What are you doing? He's hurt!"

One of the men stepped directly into her path.

"Go back inside," he said firmly, his voice low and smooth, but with a chilling edge. His hand hovered near her shoulder, not touching—but ready to push if she moved an inch closer. "This doesn't concern you."

"The hell it doesn't!" Rose snapped. "He's bleeding. I need to make sure he's okay—"

"Walk away," the man repeated, this time sharper.

Rose's jaw clenched. "Who are you people? What is this? A kidnapping? I'll scream!"

But her only answer was the car door slamming shut. The engine revved, tires skidding slightly on the damp street as the black car pulled away, vanishing into the flow of traffic.

And just like that, he was gone again.

Rose stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, chest heaving, the cold slicing through her coat, her hands shaking with adrenaline and confusion.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Rose flinched at the sound of Mason's voice as he came storming out of the rink, his skates barely tied and jacket half-zipped. His eyes were wild, darting from her to the street where the black car had disappeared into the traffic.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling her back from the edge of the curb. "You don't just run after strangers like that! What if they hurt you?"

"I was trying to help him!" Rose shot back, yanking her arm free. "He was bleeding! They were manhandling him like he was some kind of criminal—didn't you see them?"

"Yeah, I saw! I saw you throw yourself at a bunch of guys in black suits like you're invincible!" Mason ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away from her, his breath steaming in the cold air. "You don't know who they were, Rose. You could've gotten hurt."

"I wasn't going to just stand there and do nothing!" Rose shouted.

Mason stared at her like she'd completely lost it. His jaw clenched, clearly torn between concern and frustration. "And what exactly were you planning to do? Throw punches at all three of them? Hijack the car?"

Before Rose could snap back, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind them.

"What is going on?" Wendy called out, rushing down the steps of the rink, her scarf trailing behind her.

Lily followed closely, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold and exertion. "Rose!" she panted, eyes darting to Mason and then to Rose. "What is even happening right now?"

"They took him," Rose said, still breathless. "Those men. They dragged him off the ice and shoved him into a black car like it was nothing. Like—like it was normal."

"It wasn't normal," Mason muttered. "But this—this right here? You running after them? That's even worse."

"Okay," Wendy said gently, stepping between them like a buffer. "Let's just...take a breath. It's freezing out here, and none of us know what that was. But whatever it is, it's over now. We should go home."

"Yeah," Lily chimed in, hugging her coat tighter around her. "This city's giving me whiplash. I vote hot chocolate and heavy blankets—far away from bleed teenage boys and scary men in black."

Rose hesitated, her gaze drifting back toward the street, as if hoping—foolishly—that maybe the boy would reappear, that this whole thing would somehow make sense if she stared hard enough.

But nothing happened.

No sign of him.

No explanation.

Just the endless churn of traffic.

"...Fine," she murmured at last, dragging a hand through her tangled hair. "Let's go. I'm sick of this."

Mason gave her a long look, but said nothing else.

Together, the four of them turned and headed back toward the rink—Rose walking last, her thoughts still tangled in gray eyes, a crooked smirk, and a trail of blood that didn't make sense.

___________________________

Mason and Wendy

Wendy sat cross-legged in bed, the blankets piled cozily around her as she scooped another handful of popcorn from the bowl resting in her lap. The buttery scent filled the room, and the soft glow of the TV cast warm flickers across her face. Her eyes followed Mason with mild amusement as he fiddled with the remote, navigating through the menu until he found Peter Pan.

"There," he said triumphantly, clicking play.

Wendy grinned, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "You're really making a whole event out of this."

"Because it is an event," Mason said, turning off the lights and bounding toward the bed like an overexcited child. He jumped onto the mattress with exaggerated flair, making Wendy laugh as the bowl of popcorn bounced a little in her lap.

Instead of curling into her side, he stretched out across the bed and rested his head in her lap, looking up at her with a contented grin. His fingers lightly drummed against her knee as he got comfortable, the glow from the TV casting flickering shadows across his face.

"This is a historic moment," he said dramatically, tilting his head to watch the screen as the opening scene began to play.

Wendy smiled down at him, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead before feeding him a piece of popcorn. "I'm excited."

"Me too," Mason said with his mouth full, his tone teasing. "Now you'll finally understand why I call you Wendy Darling."

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Still weird."

Mason feigned offense, but closed his eyes for a moment as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. The quiet rhythm of the movie, the buttery scent of popcorn, and the warmth of her touch made everything feel a little softer—like the world had shrunk to just the two of them, tucked away in their own little bubble.

Mason was quiet for the most part, his head still resting in Wendy's lap, but his eyes weren't really on the screen.

He watched her instead.

The flickering light from the movie danced across her face, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the softness in her expression, the way her lips curved every time something funny happened on screen. Her fingers absently sifted through his hair, gentle and slow, like a rhythm she wasn't even aware of keeping—and it made his chest ache in the best way.

Wendy would toss a piece of popcorn into her mouth now and then, eyes wide with childlike curiosity as she followed the story, completely unaware of the way he was drinking her in like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.

Mason didn't say a word—didn't want to break the moment—but his heart was full, overflowing. He swore he could watch her like this forever. The way her nose scrunched when something didn't make sense, how she whispered questions to herself, how she smiled without realizing it.

The movie was just background noise now. She was the main event.

"Are you enjoying it?" Mason asked.

Wendy nodded, her eyes still fixed on the screen as she absentmindedly popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

"Mhm," she hummed, her fingers still lazily combing through his hair. "It's cute. I like it."

Mason smirked, tilting his head slightly to get a better view of her face. "You're not just saying that to make me happy, are you?"

She finally looked down at him, her lips twitching into a small smile. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

He huffed, pretending to be offended. "Yes. Deeply. I'd never recover."

Wendy giggled, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Fine. I like it. I promise."

Mason's smirk softened into something more genuine as he reached up, tracing the curve of her jaw with his thumb. "Good. Because I kind of love watching you watch it."

Wendy rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed under his gaze. "Watch the movie."

Mason grinned mischievously, eyes sparkling with boyish amusement. "Watch the movie?" he echoed innocently, already shifting slightly in her lap.

Before Wendy could register what he was about to do, he tugged at the hem of her shirt and lifted it just enough to duck his head underneath, pressing his cheek against her bare stomach with a dramatic sigh.

"Mason!" she squealed, half-laughing, half-scolding as she swatted at him.

Her shirt billowed over his head like a little tent, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin as he snuggled in, completely unbothered.

"What?" he said in a muffled voice, lips brushing over her skin as he spoke. "This is cozy. Feels like a secret hideout."

Wendy laughed helplessly, covering her face with one hand. "You are so weird."

Mason laughed, pressing a quick kiss just below her ribs.

She tried to sound stern, but the giggle that slipped out ruined the effect. "You're going to miss the whole movie like this."

"Worth it," Mason murmured, completely content beneath her shirt, making her laugh even harder as he kissed her belly.

Wendy's laughter rang out again, soft and bright as Mason continued peppering her belly with playful kisses beneath her shirt. Every kiss made her squirm, her hand instinctively resting on the back of his head, fingers tangled lightly in his curls.

"Stop," she managed between giggles, breath hitching when Mason blew another raspberry against her skin, making her shriek with laughter.

But then—just as the warmth of the moment wrapped around her like a soft blanket—something shifted inside her. A strange, almost unsettling flicker of thought twisted in her chest.

Her laughter faded.

Her fingers, still tangled gently in Mason's curls, stilled.

The way his lips brushed her stomach again—tender, playful, reverent—sent a shiver down her spine, but not the good kind. Not anymore.

Out of nowhere, the image flashed in her mind—her belly round and full, the weight of a future she hadn't asked for. The idea of being pregnant. Of Mason kissing her like this while she carried something more than just laughter and warmth. It was like a film reel she hadn't pressed play on, and now it wouldn't stop running.

She swallowed, her smile faltering ever so slightly as the thought rooted deeper, unfamiliar and strange.

She didn't want to think about that—not here, not now, not ever.

It made her chest tighten, not in the sweet way it usually did when she looked at him, but in a way that made her want to pull back. To put space between herself and this sudden, looming idea of something bigger, heavier, more permanent.

Mason was still grinning beneath her shirt, completely unaware of the storm quietly swirling in her head.

"You okay?" he asked when he noticed her silence, lifting his head slightly to peek up at her.

Wendy forced a little smile, nodding too quickly. "Yeah. Just... ticklish."

But her voice was softer now. A little distant. And Mason, even in his playfulness, noticed the shift in her eyes.

He didn't push. He just kissed her belly one more time—gentler this time—then crawled up to rest beside her, settling quietly into the crook of her arm.

And Wendy tried to shake the thought away... but it lingered, strange and sticky, refusing to let go.

"Wendy?" Mason arched his brow.

"Mmm?" Wendy hummed.

"What's up?" Mason leaned back to look at her.

Wendy hesitated, then blurted it out before she could second-guess herself. "Did you know Daphne and Theo are talking about having a baby soon?"

Mason stilled for a second, confused by the sudden shift. "What?" he said. "Where did that come from?"

Wendy blinked, as if surprised by her own words. "I don't know," she said honestly, laughing a little awkwardly. "It just popped into my head."

Mason's eyebrows raised, amusement and curiosity mingling in his expression. "I was kissing your belly, and you thought of babies?"

Wendy groaned, covering her face again. "Ugh, don't make it weird."

Mason laughed under his breath, clearly delighted by her discomfort. "I'm not making it weird—you did that all on your own."

Wendy peeked at him through her fingers, her cheeks still flushed. "It just made me think, okay? I mean... Daphne and Theo? A baby? This soon?"

Mason shrugged, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I think it's kind of great."

Wendy turned to look at him, brows furrowed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "They're solid. They've been together for a while and I think they'd make good parents."

Wendy scoffed lightly, her nose wrinkling. "Daphne still burns toast. And your mom said Theo panics if there's no oat milk in the fridge."

Mason chuckled. "So what? No one's perfect. That doesn't mean they shouldn't have a kid. They love each other, and they're ready for something more. That's kind of beautiful."

Wendy shook her head, skepticism in her eyes. "It just feels fast...like what if they get married and then things don't work out?"

Mason's face tightened as Wendy's words hung in the air. He sat up slightly. "What do you mean, 'what if they don't work out'? You don't think they can make it?"

Wendy winced, feeling the weight of his gaze. She tried to backpedal but her words had already spilled out. "I mean, things don't always go the way you plan, right? What if they rush into all of this, and then it doesn't work? A kid is forever, Mason. It's not like just getting married and hoping for the best. They'll ruin a life they can't undo if it doesn't work out."

The silence that fell between them felt thick, heavier than the tension in the room. Mason's brow furrowed, his lips thinning into a line of frustration. "You really think that about them? You think they're that careless with their future? With a child?"

Wendy peered at him, her heart heavy with regret. She hadn't meant to upset him, but the thought had lodged itself in her mind and wouldn't let go. "I'm just saying, it's a lot. They're still figuring things out, and maybe a baby is too big of a step."

Mason shook his head, his voice rising just slightly, more emotional than he intended. "That's my brother. And that's his future wife. They're not perfect, but they're trying. They're ready for this. And you're sitting here talking about ruining someone's life? How can you even think that way about them? You see the way they look at each other."

Wendy blinked, taken aback by the hint of hurt in his voice. She hadn't expected him to react this strongly, and it stung more than she expected.

"Mason, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I just think they're rushing into it. You know they've only been together for a few months, right?"

Mason's face was tight, his frustration clear. "I know. But Theo and Daphne have a bond. They've been through enough together to know what they're getting into. And yeah, it's fast, but who are we to judge what's right for them?"

Wendy took a breath, guilt creeping into her chest. She had never meant to cast doubt on their relationship, especially not in front of Mason.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her tone quieter. "I didn't mean to make it sound like they're not capable. It's just... I don't want to see them make a mistake that ruins everything."

Mason's shoulders stiffened, but his expression softened when he noticed the genuine concern in her eyes. "I get that you're worried. But you've got to trust them. Trust that they know what they're doing. They're not rushing blindly into this."

Wendy nodded slowly, her chest tightening. She didn't want to hurt Mason, but she couldn't shake the worry that had settled in her mind.

What are your thoughts?