Addy leaned her forehead against the frosted windowpane, watching the snowflakes waltz through the air, each one a tiny whisper of winter's quiet magic. The wind sighed through the towering pines, rattling the eaves and carrying the mingled scents of resin, damp earth, and woodsmoke. The cold seeped through the glass beneath her palm, numbing her fingers, but the heat simmering in her chest was stubborn, unyielding.

Behind her, the cabin glowed with golden warmth. Firelight danced over the stone hearth, its flickering shadows curling against the wooden beams like lazy phantoms. The scent of charred pine and melted wax thickened the air, mingling with the rich, sweet traces of cocoa lingering from your abandoned mugs. A thick plaid blanket lay pooled on the worn leather sofa, a casualty of your earlier laughter and chaotic limbs. On the coffee table, a VHS copy of While You Were Sleeping leaned against a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie.

Upstairs, the steady rush of water echoed through the cabin, a lullaby of warmth and solitude. Addy's gaze drifted upward, tracing the sound as if she could see you beneath the spray, steam curling around you like a lover's embrace. Her thoughts slipped back to the day's shared moments, how the wind had tangled in your hair, how the snowflakes had clung to your lashes like tiny frozen kisses, how your laughter had rung out, bright and unguarded.

Outside, the world slumbered beneath a thick quilt of snow, a hush so deep it magnified every creak of the cabin, every flicker of the fire. The crisp scent of winter curled around her, laced with the faintest hint of your perfume, soft and floral, something that felt like summer even in the heart of this frozen wilderness.

A creak on the stairs brought Addy back to the present. A footstep. The air thickened, anticipation curling through it like smoke from the hearth.

Addy turned.

You stood in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, skin dewed with water, hair dripping onto the wooden floor. The scent of soap and shampoo wrapped around you, warm and clean, tinged with lavender. You smiled, soft and easy, completely unaware of the storm you stirred in Addy's chest. "Took you long enough," Addy quipped, her voice steadier than she felt. "I was starting to think you drowned up there."

The snow whispered against the window, falling thick and soundless, sealing you in a world untouched, a world of quiet possibilities. Addy's breath was slow, measured, though her pulse betrayed her. She turned back to the window, pressing her forehead against the glass again, the chill an anchor against the heat curling through her. She loved you, had loved you for longer than she could admit, and yet she was certain it was unrequited. You couldn't possibly know the depths of her feelings, too wrapped up in the simplicity of your friendship to see the yearning hidden beneath every stolen glance, every hesitant touch.