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Snowlight crept in through the thin gap in the curtains, pale and quiet, glowing against the cramped bedroom walls. The radiator clicked softly in the corner like it had something to say but didn’t want to interrupt. Outside, the city was muffled under a fresh layer of snow. Inside, everything was still.
Maya was warm.
That was the first thing she noticed.
The second was Josh’s arm heavy around her waist, his hand resting just under the hem of one of his old T-shirts—the one she’d stolen permanently the minute they moved in. Her cheek was pressed to his chest, her nose fitting perfectly into the dip beneath his collarbone like it had learned that shape over time. His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath her ear.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She just breathed and listened.
This was it.
This was their life now.
No sneaking. No borrowed time. No “what ifs.” Just one tiny bed in a too-small apartment in New York City, with snow on Christmas morning and Josh Matthews holding her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She shifted slightly, her hair brushing his chin.
Josh stirred. His fingers tightened lazily at her waist before he even opened his eyes.
“Mornin’, sunshine,” he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
Maya tilted her head to look up at him. “You don’t get to call me that before I’ve brushed my teeth.”
He cracked one eye open. “I live with you. I share a toothbrush cup with you. I think we’re past pretending.”
She snorted, then yawned so hard her whole face scrunched up. “Ugh, I’m still tired.”
Josh smiled down at her, soft and sleepy and stupidly in love. “You went to bed at, like, three, Matlock.”
“And whose fault is that?” she shot back. “You’re the one who wanted to finish the entire season in one night.”
He gasped quietly. “Don’t blame me for your lack of self-control.”
She poked his chest. “You are the problem.”
“True,” he agreed easily. “But you love me anyway.”
She stilled, then smiled despite herself. “Annoyingly, yes.”
They lay there for a while longer, quiet again. Snowlight grew brighter in the room. Somewhere below them, a car passed, tires crunching softly through slush.
Maya shifted, suddenly alert with something buzzing in her chest. She pushed herself up on one elbow and studied his face like she was trying to decide something important.
Josh squinted at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She bit her lip, holding back a grin. “Because it’s Christmas.”
His eyes widened a little. “Oh. That’s true.”
“And,” she added, reaching under her pillow, “we said we’d do our gifts before everybody gets here.”
Josh’s eyebrows lifted. A slow smile spread across his face. “Ohhh. That’s right.”
Maya pulled out a small, wrapped box—simple brown paper, a strip of red ribbon tied awkwardly around it. She held it out to him with both hands. “You first.”
Josh’s expression softened immediately. He took it carefully, like it was fragile even though it was clearly light.
“Okay,” he said quietly. He tugged the ribbon loose and peeled back the paper.
Inside was a small, worn notebook. The corners were curled, the cover soft from being handled too much. His breath caught just a little when he lifted it.
“Maya…” he murmured.
She watched him closely, suddenly nervous. “Open it.”
He flipped the first page.
It was full of her handwriting. Messy. Crowded. Familiar.
Josh blinked. Then he flipped another page. And another.
Little memories, photos and. Quotes he’d said and probably forgotten. Things she never said out loud but had written instead. Pages filled across three whole years.
His throat bobbed. “You kept all of this?”
She shrugged, suddenly shy. “I had no money and too many feelings.”
He let out a quiet, broken laugh. His eyes were glassy when he looked up at her. “This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten.”
Maya smiled softly. “Yeah, well. You’re kind of my favorite person.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, lingering there for a second like he needed to steady himself. Then he carefully set the notebook on the nightstand.
“My turn,” he said.
He reached over to his own side and pulled out a much smaller box. Dark blue. Simple. His hands were steady, but his eyes had that unmistakable nervous brightness she knew better than anyone else.
He passed it to her.
Maya’s smile faltered the moment she felt the weight of it.
She looked at the box. Then up at him. Then back at the box.
Josh watched her cautiously. “May—”
She flipped the lid open.
Silver glinted softly in the pale morning light.
Her breath stopped.
It was a ring. Simple. Thin band. Nothing flashy. Still unmistakably a ring.
Maya went completely still.
Josh’s smile slowly faded. “Hey—”
She snapped her head up. “Joshua Matthews, you do NOT propose to me in bed with morning breath.”
For one full second, his brain seemed to short-circuit.
Then he burst out laughing.
Like, full-on, can’t-breathe, falling back into the pillows laughing.
“OH my God,” he wheezed. “Maya, I’m sorry— I’m so sorry—”
She stared at him, half mortified, half still on the verge of panic. “I was about to pass out.”
He propped himself up on one elbow, still smiling but immediately serious again. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
She did.
“It’s not a proposal,” he said gently. “It’s a promise ring.”
Her shoulders dropped an inch. “Oh.”
He reached for her hand and slid the ring between his fingers, not putting it on yet, just holding it there.
“I love you,” he said simply. “I’m not ready to propose yet. Not because I don’t want to—because I want to do it right. When I actually ask you, you won’t be confused. You won’t be half asleep. You won’t have to guess.”
She swallowed.
“When I propose,” he continued softly, “you’ll know.”
Her eyes filled despite herself. She let out a shaky laugh. “You’re really good at this whole emotional sincerity thing for a guy who once got grounded for months for sneaking out of a wedding.”
“Character development,” he said mildly.
She slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
Josh’s thumb brushed over it like he was memorizing the sight. “That means we’re promising to keep choosing each other,” he said. “Even when it’s hard. Even when we’re broke. Even when we’re old and annoying.”
Maya sniffed. “Buddy, I’m already annoying.”
He smiled. “Yeah. I like that about you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him—slow and gentle and full of everything they didn’t have words for yet. His hand came up to cup her cheek, and she melted into him like she always did.
They pulled apart only when they were both smiling too much to keep going.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Now I’m really happy.”
“Good,” he said. “Because in about twenty minutes this apartment is going to fill up with your mother, my parents, my brother, your best friend, her parents, and a very grumpy teenager.”
She groaned. “Why did we invite people?”
He laughed and pulled her back into his chest. “Because we have a home now.” he paused for a moment, “and because me parents asked and i can’t say no to them.”
Josh eventually rolled out of bed first, stretching until his joints popped. “Alright, come on, Frostbite,” he said, turning to Maya, who was still sitting there admiring her ring. “We have to at least look somewhat festive before everyone arrives.”
She blinked at him. “Festive? Josh, our apartment doesn’t even have enough counter space for a full plate of cookies.”
“Exactly,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out a folded bundle of red-and-green fabric. “So we compensate with this.”
Maya’s eyes narrowed. “Are those… matching Christmas pajamas?”
Josh grinned like a kid caught doing something ridiculous. “Maybe.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned, taking them anyway. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Matthews. Otherwise, this would be the end.”
He laughed, already pulling his on. “Admit it. You love the cheesy couple stuff.”
“I tolerate it,” she said, tugging on the top. It was soft, red with little reindeer all over it. Against her better judgment, she smiled. “Okay… maybe a little.”
He turned around just in time to see her shiver. “Hey, you’re cold.”
“I’m fine,” she lied, rubbing her arms.
Josh crossed the room and grabbed one of his hoodies off the back of a chair — dark gray, worn soft from too many washes. “Here.”
She looked at it, then at him. “You really want me to ruin the matching aesthetic?”
He tugged it over her head before she could argue, laughing as she got lost in the oversized fabric. “You can’t ruin it,” he said, adjusting the hood so her messy hair stuck out. “You’re the better half of the set.”
Maya rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously warm,” he said, tapping the hoodie. “Now so are you.”
She tugged the sleeves over her hands, swallowed in his scent, and gave in with a sigh. “Fine. You win.”
Josh leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “I usually do.”
She smiled up at him. “Merry Christmas, dork.”
“Merry Christmas, trouble,” he said, his voice low and soft, before they both turned toward the kitchen — ready to face the chaos waiting to arrive.
Here’s that scene — warm, domestic, and a little chaotic, showing their playful chemistry and the cramped reality of their first Christmas living together:
Maya stood in the middle of the world’s tiniest kitchen, surrounded by way too many ambitions and way too few square feet. The counter space was roughly the size of a cutting board, one burner on the stove refused to light, and the oven door creaked like it was protesting the workload. Still, she was determined. It was their first Christmas hosting anyone, and she wasn’t about to let it fall apart.
She muttered to herself as she stirred a pot. “Okay, potatoes—good. Vegetables—fine. Burned smell—bad. Where’s the—”
“Salt?” Josh appeared behind her, already holding it out with a proud smile. “You mean this?”
She jumped, bumping her elbow against his chest. “Josh! You can’t just materialize behind me like some kind of kitchen ghost.”
He grinned, unbothered. “Kitchen ghost sounds festive.”
“It sounds like you’re about to get haunted with a wooden spoon,” she said, snatching the salt.
He didn’t move, though. He just leaned against the counter, watching her with that soft, too-affectionate look that made her heartbeat trip every time.
“What?” she asked without looking up.
“Nothing,” he said, though his voice had that quiet, teasing warmth in it. “Just... you. You look really cute when you’re pretending to be a professional chef in a kitchen the size of a shoebox.”
“Pretending?” she said, turning to glare at him, a strand of hair falling into her face. “Excuse you, Gordon Ramsay, I am—”
She didn’t get to finish, because he’d already crossed the two steps between them and kissed her.
It wasn’t long or dramatic—just soft, right in the middle of the chaos, his hand resting on her hip, her fingers still holding a wooden spoon midair. The smell of butter and cinnamon and cheap coffee hung in the air.
When he pulled back, Maya blinked, dazed. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You’re adorable when you threaten me with cooking utensils.”
She blinked again, realizing the spoon she’d been holding was now dripping gravy onto the floor. “Oh, great. Look what you made me do!”
He laughed. “Worth it.”
“Out,” she said, pointing toward the door with the spoon.
“What?”
“Out of the kitchen, Joshua. You’re a distraction and a fire hazard.”
He raised both hands in mock surrender, backing away slowly. “Noted. I’ll go set the table—or, you know, try to find it under all the boxes we still haven’t unpacked.”
“Go,” she said, but she couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips.
As he left, she heard him call back, “Love you, Chef Hart!”
Maya rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she wiped the counter. “You’re lucky I love you too, Matthews.”
Maya stood in the middle of the world’s tiniest kitchen, surrounded by way too many ambitions and way too few square feet. The counter space was roughly the size of a cutting board, one burner on the stove refused to light, and the oven door creaked like it was protesting the workload. Still, she was determined. It was their first Christmas hosting anyone, and she wasn’t about to let it fall apart.
She muttered to herself as she stirred a pot. “Okay, potatoes—good. Vegetables—fine. Burned smell—bad. Where’s the—”
“Salt?” Josh appeared behind her, already holding it out with a proud smile. “You mean this?”
She jumped, bumping her elbow against his chest. “Josh! You can’t just materialize behind me like some kind of kitchen ghost.”
He grinned, unbothered. “Kitchen ghost sounds festive.”
“It sounds like you’re about to get haunted with a wooden spoon,” she said, snatching the salt.
He didn’t move, though. He just leaned against the counter, watching her with that soft, too-affectionate look that made her heartbeat trip every time.
“What?” she asked without looking up.
“Nothing,” he said, though his voice had that quiet, teasing warmth in it. “Just... you. You look really cute when you’re pretending to be a professional chef in a kitchen the size of a shoebox.”
“Pretending?” she said, turning to glare at him, a strand of hair falling into her face. “Excuse you, Gordon Ramsay, I am—”
She didn’t get to finish, because he’d already crossed the two steps between them and kissed her.
It wasn’t long or dramatic—just soft, right in the middle of the chaos, his hand resting on her hip, her fingers still holding a wooden spoon midair. The smell of butter and cinnamon and cheap coffee hung in the air.
When he pulled back, Maya blinked, dazed. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “You’re adorable when you threaten me with cooking utensils.”
She blinked again, realizing the spoon she’d been holding was now dripping gravy onto the floor. “Oh, great. Look what you made me do!”
He laughed. “Worth it.”
“Out,” she said, pointing toward the door with the spoon.
“What?”
“Out of the kitchen, Joshua. You’re a distraction and a fire hazard.”
He raised both hands in mock surrender, backing away slowly. “Noted. I’ll go set the table”
“Go,” she said, but she couldn’t hide the grin tugging at her lips.
As he left, she heard him call back, “Love you, Chef Hart!”
Maya rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she wiped the counter. “You’re lucky I love you too, Matthews.”
The knock on the door wasn’t gentle. Three hard bangs, followed by Riley’s voice shouting, “Merry Christmas, lovebirds!”
Josh barely had time to reach the handle before it swung open and the Matthews clan poured in — Riley first, grinning like she owned the place; Cory right behind her with a stack of gifts; Topanga balancing two casserole dishes; and Auggie dragging his feet, headphones hanging around his neck like a sign that he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Wow,” Josh said, blinking. “Do we not knock anymore?”
Cory clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s family. Family doesn’t knock.”
Josh deadpanned, “Yeah, they just invade.”
Topanga took one look at the apartment — the too-small space, the smell of half-burnt potatoes — and smiled kindly. “It smells wonderful in here, Maya.”
Maya froze, wooden spoon in hand, surrounded by chaos. “Uh… sure. If burnt butter is the new Christmas candle scent.”
Topanga chuckled and immediately set her dishes down. “Alright, I see a woman in distress. Scoot over, I’m coming in.”
Maya groaned with relief, stepping aside. “Please. I’m one mistake away from crying into the mashed potatoes.”
Topanga rolled up her sleeves like a pro. “Rule one of Christmas dinner—never cry over carbs. Now, where’s the whisk?”
“Here,” Maya said, handing it to her, already laughing. “Thank you, seriously. You have no idea what kind of disaster you just walked into.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” Topanga said, tasting the sauce and nodding. “You’re doing great, though. It took me five years before Cory stopped pretending to like my lasagna.”
From the couch, Cory called out, “It was fine!”
Topanga didn’t even glance back. “It was crunchy.”
Maya burst out laughing. The stress melted a little. Having Topanga beside her—someone calm, confident, and motherly—made everything easier.
Auggie made it exactly five steps into the apartment before claiming the couch like a king returning to his throne.
“Nice place,” he mumbled, barely glancing around as he flopped down. Within seconds, his legs were stretched out across the cushions, phone in one hand, earbuds already in.
Josh watched him settle in, amused. “Make yourself at home, Aug.”
“Already did,” came the muffled reply.
Meanwhile, Josh had taken Cory and Riley on what he optimistically called the grand tour.
“So, this is the living room-slash-dining-room-slash-laundry room,” he said, gesturing to their tiny space. “Over there’s our desk-slash-coffee-table-slash-emergency counter space.”
Cory nodded approvingly. “You really made the most of the square footage.”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “You just have to turn sideways to breathe.”
Riley smiled, eyes wide as she peeked into the bedroom. “Oh my gosh, this is so cute. Wait…” Her voice trailed off as she spotted the single, very obvious bed. “Um… where does Josh sleep?”
Josh blinked. “What?”
Riley turned around, completely serious. “Well, there’s only one bed. So… does Maya take the bed, and you sleep on the couch?”
Josh laughed, assuming she was joking. But she just stared at him, blinking innocently.
Cory, standing behind her, started to crack up. Loudly. “Oh my God, Riley!” he managed between laughs. “You’re twenty years old and you still think your uncle and your best friend have separate sleeping arrangements?”
Riley’s face went bright red. “Dad! I wasn’t— I just— I wasn’t thinking!”
Josh doubled over, laughing. “Wow, Riles. I’m flattered by your faith in our purity.”
Cory was still laughing, wiping his eyes. “She’s got your mother’s optimism. Bless her heart.”
Riley groaned. “You’re all disgusting.”
Josh grinned. “Hey, don’t worry. The bed’s big enough for both of us and our emotional baggage.”
Riley covered her ears. “Nope! I’m done. I’m un-hearing that.”
Cory laughed even harder. “Oh, this is going in the family group chat.”
Riley whirled on him. “Don’t you dare!”
From the kitchen, Topanga called out, “Cory, stop teasing her and come taste this gravy!”
Cory chuckled, giving Josh one last pat on the shoulder before heading over. “You’re a braver man than I ever was, little brother.”
Josh smirked. “I know.”
Back in the kitchen, Topanga was calmly stirring sauce while Maya peeled potatoes beside her, visibly more relaxed.
Riley slipped into the kitchen to help. “Need me to do anything?”
Maya handed her a potato peeler. “Yes. Be useful.”
Maya, stirring something on the stove, glanced over her shoulder. “You good there, teenager?”
He gave the world’s smallest nod.
“You planning on just sitting there while we do all the cooking?”
Another grunt.
Josh snorted. “You’ve officially entered the monosyllable phase. Congrats.”
“Cool,” Auggie said flatly, eyes still on his phone.
Riley threw her hands up. “He used to be nice! Remember when he followed me everywhere and wanted to play board games?”
“Yeah,” Josh said with a grin. “Then he turned fifteen.”
Topanga, meanwhile, had reached her limit. She took in the sight of her youngest — slouched, hood up, phone in hand, the very picture of teenage apathy — and sighed deeply.
“Alright, that’s enough,” she said, walking toward him. “Take your earbuds out.”
He didn’t move.
“Auggie,” she said again, voice low but firm.
He exhaled dramatically, pulling one earbud out like it physically pained him. “What?”
Topanga gave him that calm, terrifying mom look that said you’d better choose your next words carefully. “What? That’s how you answer your mother now?”
He blinked. “What… Mom?”
Josh bit back a laugh from across the room, and Maya coughed into her sleeve to hide hers.
Topanga ignored them both. “You’ve been sitting there since we got here. You can at least help your aunt and sister in the kitchen.”
“I’m helping by staying out of the way,” Auggie said, not missing a beat.
Topanga crossed her arms. “Try again.”
“There’s already like five people in there,” he muttered. “I’ll just make it worse.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re perfectly capable of peeling a potato.”
He stared at her like she’d just insulted him. “Mom. I’m a fifteen-year-old boy. I don’t peel things.”
“Then today’s your big debut,” she said, snatching the phone right out of his hands before he could react.
“Hey!” he yelped, sitting up straighter.
“You can have it back after you’ve helped for ten minutes,” she said calmly, holding it behind her back.
Josh chuckled. “Harsh, but fair.”
Auggie glared at him. “You’re not helping, Uncle Josh.”
“Wasn’t trying to,” Josh said cheerfully. “I’m just enjoying the show.”
Topanga tapped her foot. “Up. Now.”
Auggie groaned but dragged himself to his feet, muttering, “This is child labor.”
Riley followed him toward the kitchen, grinning. “Welcome to the working class.”
“Ugh,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are the worst.”
Topanga smiled sweetly. “And you’re grounded if you keep complaining.”
He shot her a look but picked up a potato anyway. Maya handed him a peeler, clearly amused.
“Relax, Auggie,” she said. “It’s not rocket science.”
“I’d rather be doing rocket science,” he grumbled.
Riley elbowed him lightly. “You used to be so sweet.”
“Yeah, and you used to wear sparkly headbands,” he shot back. “People change.”
Josh laughed from the couch. “Man, I miss when you were the family mascot.”
Auggie rolled his eyes but said nothing, focusing on the potato like it had personally wronged him.
Topanga leaned against the counter, watching him work, arms crossed. “See? You’re surviving. Wasn’t that bad, was it?”
He didn’t look up. “Ask me again when my fingers are numb.”
Riley and Maya exchanged a grin behind his back, and even Topanga couldn’t suppress a small laugh.
The knock came just as the kitchen was settling into its new rhythm — Maya and Riley peeling potatoes side by side, Topanga keeping the sauce from boiling over, and Josh trying (and failing) to string up a few cheap fairy lights along the window.
“I’ll get it!” Josh called, brushing his hands on a towel.
Before he could even reach the door, it swung open, and Katy Hart blew in like a gust of warm air and perfume.
“Merry Christmas!” she sang, her voice bright enough to fill the apartment. Behind her came Shawn, holding a casserole dish and looking like he’d been convinced to bring it under protest.
Maya froze mid-stir. “Oh boy,” she muttered under her breath.
But before she could even set the spoon down, her mother spotted her.
“There she is!” Katy said, eyes already glassy. “My baby girl!”
Maya barely had a second to brace herself before Katy had her arms around her, pulling her in tight. Maya stiffened for half a second—just out of instinct—then melted into it, burying her face in her mom’s shoulder.
“Hi, Mom,” she mumbled, voice muffled against her.
Katy pulled back just enough to look at her, holding her by the shoulders. “Look at you! Cooking Christmas dinner in your own apartment. My baby’s all grown up.”
Maya rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Don’t start, okay? You’re gonna make me cry and then everything I touch will be seasoned with tears.”
Katy laughed, brushing her hair back like she used to when Maya was little. “You’re allowed to cry, sweetheart. It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, but I’m holding hot gravy,” Maya said, sniffling and quickly turning back toward the stove. “I’d rather not burn the holiday spirit into my skin.”
Topanga smiled gently from the counter. “It’s really nice to see you, Katy.”
“You too, Topanga!” Katy said brightly, glancing around. “Oh, wow. It’s… cozy in here.”
“That’s a nice way to put it,” Josh called from the doorway. “We call it ‘close proximity living.’”
Katy grinned. “Well, it’s adorable. Very newly-in-love energy.”
Maya groaned. “Mom.”
“What?” Katy said innocently. “It’s true.”
Meanwhile, Shawn had drifted toward the living room, where Cory was standing with his arms crossed, smiling in that ‘I’m happy to see you but I’m still pretending to be mad’ kind of way.
“Shawn Hunter,” Cory said, shaking his head. “Can’t believe you’re still showing up to my family holidays after all these years.”
“Yeah, well,” Shawn said, setting down his dish on the counter. “Your wife keeps inviting me, and your daughter still calls me ‘stepdad,’ so I guess you’re stuck with me.”
Cory smirked. “You know what really gets me? My baby brother is dating your stepdaughter. You two just had to merge the worlds like that, huh?”
Shawn chuckled, grabbing a drink from the counter. “I think that ship sailed about three years ago, Matthews.”
Cory groaned. “Don’t remind me. Every time I look at them, I feel like I aged another decade.”
At that exact moment, Josh walked in from the kitchen, hands full of mugs of hot chocolate. “Hey, anyone want—oh. Uh-oh.”
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of Cory and Shawn together, both turned toward him.
Shawn looked amused. Cory looked… less so.
Josh froze like a deer in headlights. “Why do I feel like I just walked into a meeting about me?”
Cory crossed his arms tighter. “Because you did.”
Josh blinked. “Oh, great. My favorite kind of meeting.”
Shawn grinned. “Relax, kid. He’s just giving you a hard time.”
“Am I?” Cory said, eyes narrowing with dramatic flair. “You’re dating my daughter’s best friend. You’re corrupting my family tree.”
Josh raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. “Corrupting? Cory, she’s twenty.”
“That’s not the point,” Cory said quickly. “It’s the principle of the thing.”
Josh set the mugs down on the coffee table and crossed his arms, mirroring his brother. “You realize that makes no sense, right?”
“Doesn’t have to,” Cory shot back. “I’m a dad. My job is to disapprove of my kid’s best friend’s boyfriend. It’s practically a rule.”
Shawn laughed, sipping his drink. “You sound exactly like my old man. Congratulations, Matthews — you’ve become the guy you used to rebel against.”
Cory pointed at him. “Don’t start, Hunter.”
Josh couldn’t hold it anymore — he grinned, that same soft, disarming grin that always got him out of trouble growing up. “You know you love me, Cory.”
Cory sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, I do.”
From the kitchen, Maya called, “He’s right, you know!”
Josh smiled, leaning around the corner to look at her. “See? Even your daughter agrees with me.”
Cory threw his hands up. “That’s exactly the problem!”
Topanga walked by, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll live, honey.”
“Will I?” Cory muttered, but his smile was already breaking through.
Maya walked out of the kitchen then, wiping her hands on a towel. She glanced at her mom and Shawn, then at Josh, then back at Cory — and couldn’t help laughing softly.
“This feels weirdly full circle,” she said.
“How so?” Josh asked.
“Just… all the adults in one room, trying to figure out how we ended up here,” she said. “And somehow I’m not the kid in the corner anymore.”
Katy came up behind her and rested her hands on Maya’s shoulders. “You’ll always be my kid,” she said softly.
Maya smiled down at the floor, blinking fast. “Yeah, I know.”
Josh stepped over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re doing pretty good for a grown-up, though.”
Cory rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, muttering, “Still not used to that.”
Shawn laughed under his breath. “You’ll get there, man.”
By the time the presents were piled under the twinkling little tree — which was, for the record, more of a “tall shrub with lights” — the apartment looked like a Christmas card someone had overstuffed. Every inch of floor space was covered with wrapping paper, mugs, and people.
Josh had somehow ended up sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch, with Maya perched in front of him and half leaned back against his chest. His arm was draped securely around her waist, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder. It wasn’t even deliberate anymore; it was just how they fit.
Cory sat nearby with a mug of coffee, looking equal parts amused and resigned. Topanga perched next to him, perfectly composed even amid the chaos. Riley and Auggie had taken over the other end of the couch, and Shawn and Katy were squeezed into the corner, sharing a blanket like they owned the place.
It was cozy. Loud. Perfectly them.
“Okay!” Riley said, clapping her hands. “Who’s first?”
Josh raised his hand like a kid in class. “I nominate the hostess.”
Maya snorted. “We literally live here. That’s cheating.”
“Fine,” Josh said. “Then I nominate my favorite person.”
She turned her head slightly, smiling. “Aww—”
“Me,” Cory interrupted, grinning.
The room broke into laughter.
Topanga shook her head. “Just open something before your brother starts making dad jokes.”
Maya leaned forward to grab a small box wrapped in red paper. “Okay, this one’s from Riley. I can tell because it has seventeen pieces of tape and the label says ‘To my chaotic soulmate.’”
Riley beamed. “Open it!”
Inside was a tiny photo album filled with pictures of them over the years — from middle school selfies to graduation to random nights out. The first page had a note written in gold pen: No matter how grown up you get, I’ll always be your person.
Maya’s throat tightened. “You’re actually trying to make me cry on Christmas, aren’t you?”
Riley grinned. “Little bit.”
Josh squeezed her waist gently. “That’s sweet, Riles.”
Cory sniffed dramatically. “My daughter’s sentimental and competent at wrapping gifts. I’m so proud.”
Topanga smiled. “You didn’t teach her that.”
“I could have,” Cory protested weakly.
“Didn’t,” Topanga corrected.
Laughter rolled through the room again.
They went around in a messy circle — Auggie’s sarcastic gifts (“It’s socks, Uncle Josh, because adulthood means always needing socks”), Shawn’s heartfelt one-liners, Katy’s overly glamorous wrapping. Every time Maya unwrapped something, Josh’s hand would tighten on her waist or he’d lean close to whisper a quiet comment in her ear that made her laugh. It was the kind of intimacy that was almost invisible until you noticed it — soft, lived-in, entirely theirs.
Finally, it was Josh’s turn. Maya handed him a small box, obviously proud of herself.
“I can’t tell if this is sentimental or a prank,” Josh said, shaking it gently.
“Little bit of both,” she said with a smirk.
He opened it and paused. Inside was a keychain — simple, metal, engraved with Our first home.
Josh blinked, his usual easy humor replaced by something softer. “You’re going to make me sentimental, Hart.”
“Too late,” she teased, nudging him. “You’re already gooey.”
Riley clutched her chest dramatically. “He’s gooey! My uncle is gooey!”
Josh laughed, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I like you, Riles.”
“You love me,” she said, smug.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pretending to grumble.
Then Josh picked up another package, small and wrapped in silver paper. “Okay, your turn.”
Maya took it, raising an eyebrow. “If this is another ring, I swear—”
He cut her off by leaning in and kissing her — quick, easy, automatic. The kind of kiss that said I know you, stop teasing me.
The entire room went still for half a second before Riley dramatically threw herself back against the couch cushions.
“Oh my GOD, you two!” she groaned. “We get it! You’re in love! Can you maybe not make out three feet from the Christmas ham?”
Maya pulled away laughing, cheeks flushed. “That wasn’t even a make-out!”
“Could’ve been,” Josh said, totally unbothered.
“Ew!” Riley and Auggie said in unison.
Cory buried his face in his hands. “Every holiday. Every single holiday.”
Topanga patted his arm, amused. “You’ll survive.”
“Will I?” he asked weakly.
Shawn laughed from across the room. “You forget, Cory, you used to do the exact same thing with Topanga in front of all of us.”
Cory looked personally offended. “That was different! We were iconic!”
Katy snorted. “Sure, sweetie.”
Everyone burst out laughing again.
Maya leaned back into Josh’s chest, smiling up at him. “You’re corrupting your niece.”
“She’ll live,” he murmured, dropping another light kiss on her hair. “It’s tradition.”
Riley threw a pillow at them. “No more traditions like that!”
Maya caught it one-handed and tossed it right back. “You started it, cupcake!”
Josh rested his chin on Maya’s shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy circles over her hip as the noise swelled around them. he sound of laughter and the rustle of wrapping paper filling every corner when a new knock came at the door.
Josh looked up from where he was half buried under ribbons. “I got it!”
Maya, who was still sitting on the floor leaning against the couch, called after him, “If it’s another neighbor complaining about the noise, tell them it’s Christmas and we legally can’t be quiet.”
Josh opened the door,
“Mom! Dad!”
Amy and Alan Matthews stood in the hallway, red-cheeked and smiling, both carrying an absurd number of grocery bags. Snow dusted Alan’s coat and Amy’s hair.
“We made it!” Amy said, setting down a casserole like it was a newborn baby. “Ugh, that traffic from Philly was awful.”
“Two fender-benders and one guy who didn’t understand turn signals,” Alan added, shaking his head. “But we survived.”
Josh laughed and stepped forward to hug his mom first. “You’re late, but I’ll allow it.”
Amy turned toward her, eyes lighting up. “Maya! Honey, you look so nice!”
Maya blinked and laughed. “I’m literally wearing Josh’s hoodie and pajama pants.”
Amy smiled, hands on her hips. “Exactly. It suits you.”
Josh grinned. “Told you it’s my best hoodie.”
Riley, sitting cross-legged beside the couch, threw her hands in the air. “Oh my God! Why are we all pretending this is normal? That’s still my uncle!”
Everyone turned to her, amused.
Maya arched an eyebrow. “Riley, we’ve been dating for three years.”
“I know!” Riley said, exasperated but laughing. “And I love that for you, I do. You’re like my favorite couple. But conceptually? I hate it. I can’t handle you being my best friend and my aunt-in-law.”
Josh smirked. “You’ll survive, kiddo.”
“I’m not a kid,” Riley shot back automatically.
“Then stop gagging when I kiss my girlfriend,” Josh said.
Riley gasped. “Girlfriend? That’s future aunt girlfriend to you, mister!”
Alan chuckled as he hung his coat. “Wow, the Matthews house dynamic traveled all the way to New York.”
“Genetic chaos,” Shawn muttered from the couch.
Topanga smiled warmly at Amy and Alan. “It’s good to see you both.”
Amy returned the smile. “It’s good to be here. Though next time, maybe host somewhere with a second couch.”
Maya laughed. “Hey, we’re lucky we even have a couch. The first week we lived here, our coffee table was a moving box.”
“Still is,” Josh pointed out.
“Temporary design choice,” she countered.
Alan nodded approvingly. “Minimalist. Very modern.”
Cory raised an eyebrow. “You mean broke.”
Alan shrugged. “Same thing.”
Everyone laughed.
Amy drifted over to where Maya was sitting and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, motherly and soft. “I’m proud of you two,” she said. “This place might be small, but it’s full of love. That’s what matters.”
Maya’s expression softened. “Thanks, Amy. That means a lot.”
Riley crossed her arms. “Yeah, love is great and everything, but I’m still going to need a few more years before I stop picturing Maya as my high school partner-in-chaos and Josh as the guy who gave me piggyback rides at Thanksgiving.”
Josh grinned at her. “We contain multitudes, Riley.”
“Yeah,” she said, half laughing. “Uncle-boyfriend multitudes.”
Maya rolled her eyes and tossed a balled-up scrap of wrapping paper at her. “You’re lucky I love you.”
Riley caught it and tossed it right back. “You really do, huh? You joined the family and everything.”
Katy piped up from the corner, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Oh, she’s a Matthews now, make no mistake.”
Josh smiled proudly, resting his chin on Maya’s shoulder from behind her. “Working on it.”
Riley groaned again, but she was smiling. “Someone save me.”
Cory chuckled. “Too late, Riley. This family collects chaos. You should know that by now.”
Topanga leaned back with her tea, smiling softly. “It’s a full house, but it’s a good one.”
Amy nodded, looking around at all of them — her grown sons, her daughter-in-law, her grandchildren, Maya tucked into Josh’s side — and sighed happily. “It really is.”
The room went quiet for a moment, the kind of soft silence that only happens when everyone’s hearts are full. Then, of course, Auggie broke it.
“Okay, who wants dessert?” he said, already halfway to the kitchen.
“Teenagers,” Amy said fondly, shaking her head.
“Selective hearing since birth,” Topanga replied.
Josh chuckled, pressing a light kiss to Maya’s temple as everyone started to laugh again.
By the time dinner was ready, the apartment looked like a war zone in tinsel. Every inch of counter space was covered in dishes — some homemade, some clearly rescued by Topanga, and at least one (“mystery casserole”) contributed by Katy that no one was brave enough to identify yet.
Josh helped set the table — if “table” could even be the right word for it. It was technically a small rectangular piece of wood with two fold-out leaves and a mix of chairs that didn’t match: one barstool, two dining chairs from Cory and Topanga’s old house, a folding chair from Josh’s college dorm, and an ottoman Riley was sitting on cross-legged.
“Okay,” Maya said, hands on her hips, surveying the chaos proudly. “Everyone squeeze in. And no one move too fast, or the table might actually collapse.”
Alan chuckled as he sat down carefully. “Adds a sense of adventure to the meal.”
Cory grinned. “You say that now. Wait until the gravy starts sliding.”
Maya laughed and slid into her spot beside Josh, who instinctively placed a hand on the back of her chair to steady it. She looked around at the crowded space — her mom, Shawn, the Matthewses, Riley, and even Auggie who had begrudgingly put his phone away for the meal.
It was loud and cramped and absolutely perfect.
Topanga brought over the last bowl of mashed potatoes, setting it down like it was a peace offering. “Dinner is served!”
Everyone clapped.
Maya grinned, picking up her fork. “Okay, before anyone judges the food, just remember I’m working with a kitchen smaller than a closet and a stove from 1998.”
Amy laughed. “Sweetheart, if it’s edible, it’s a win.”
They dug in — passing plates, stealing bites, bumping elbows. For a few blissful minutes, it was just chatter and laughter and the sound of clinking silverware.
Then Auggie, predictably, broke the peace.
He poked at his plate with his fork, frowning. “I don’t like this.”
The entire table went quiet for a beat.
Maya froze mid-bite, then slowly set her fork down and looked at him. “Excuse me?”
Auggie shrugged, still poking at his food. “I said, I don’t like it. It’s… weird. What is this?”
Before anyone could jump in, Maya leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing — not angry, just Maya. That sharp mix of confidence and bite.
“Then make your own, Matthews,” she said coolly. “This isn’t a restaurant.”
Auggie’s head snapped up, startled. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“Sure you did,” she said, cutting him off, voice calm but firm. “And that’s fine. You don’t have to like everything. But someone spent all day cooking for you, so maybe start with a ‘thank you’ before you critique the menu, Gordon Ramsay Jr.”
Cory blinked. “Wow. That was… efficient.”
Riley was trying not to laugh, hiding her smile behind her glass.
Auggie opened his mouth to snap back — something defensive and teenage and sharp — but Josh stepped in before he could.
“Hey,” he said, tone easy but with enough authority to make Auggie pause. “You might not love every dish, but Maya worked really hard on this. So maybe give it a chance, yeah?”
Auggie looked up at his uncle, ready to argue — but Josh’s gaze was steady, not harsh, just that quiet, I’m serious but I still love you kind of look.
The room waited.
Finally, Auggie sighed and stabbed a small piece of whatever he’d been complaining about. “Fine. It’s… okay.”
Maya smirked. “High praise.”
Dinner had finally settled into that post-meal lull — the kind where everyone was too full to move, too content to do anything but talk quietly and pick at leftovers. The dishes were stacked precariously in the sink, the sound of laughter drifted in from the living room, and the fairy lights flickered gently against the windows.
Maya slipped away before anyone could rope her into dessert cleanup. She nudged Riley’s arm as she passed. “Hey. Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Riley perked up immediately. “Ooh, a surprise?”
“Sort of,” Maya said, heading for the bedroom. “You’ll like it.”
They slipped inside and shut the door behind them, muffling the noise from the rest of the apartment. The small bedroom was still warm from the radiator, lit by a single soft lamp and strands of fairy lights Josh had hung crookedly across the headboard.
Riley flopped onto the bed without hesitation. “I can’t believe you actually live here. Like, you have your own place. You and my uncle. That’s insane.”
Maya rolled her eyes but smiled, opening the small closet in the corner. “Yeah, it’s super adult. We have bills and everything. Sometimes the ceiling leaks. Really glamorous.”
“Hot,” Riley teased. “You’re living the dream.”
Maya laughed and pulled a dress from the hanger. It was midnight blue, elegant but simple, with paint smudges still faintly visible along the hem — like she’d been testing colors while wearing it.
“Okay,” she said, holding it up. “So, there’s this art gala next month at the studio. They asked me to show one of my pieces. I bought this for it.”
Riley sat up, eyes wide. “Maya, it’s beautiful. You’re going to look amazing.”
Maya smirked. “You say that like I don’t always look amazing.”
Riley laughed. “You’re impossible.” Then her smile softened. “Seriously, though. You’re… wow. You’re really doing it. Art, college, living with Josh. The whole grown-up thing.”
Maya stared at the dress for a long moment, running her fingers over the fabric. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
She hung it carefully on the closet door and sat down beside Riley on the bed. For a while, they didn’t say anything. The quiet between them wasn’t awkward — it was the kind that comes from years of shared history.
Riley broke it first, voice gentle. “It’s like when we were kids, you know? Just us, hanging out after Christmas dinner while our parents talk forever.”
Maya smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing like that, Riles.”
Riley tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
Maya looked down at her hands. “Everything’s different now. Huckleberry’s off in Texas riding sheep or something. Auggie barely talks to me — I tried to ask him about school earlier, and he grunted like I was interviewing him for a documentary.”
Riley laughed softly. “That’s just him being fifteen.”
“I know,” Maya said, her voice quiet. “But still. We’re not those kids sitting in your bay window anymore, planning how we’re gonna change the world. You’re in college. I live with Josh. Your grandparents are basically my in-laws, which is still super weird by the way.”
Riley’s eyes softened. “Yeah, that part’s… an adjustment.”
Maya let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “It’s just… it hit me today, you know? Looking around that table — our parents, your uncle, my mom — and realizing they all used to be the ones figuring things out. Now it’s us. We grew up.”
Riley’s face softened even more, and she reached over, resting her hand over Maya’s. “Hey. You’re still you. We’re still us.”
Maya looked at her, eyes shiny. “You really think so?”
Riley nodded. “Of course. We’ll always be Maya and Riley. The world can change all it wants — we’re not going anywhere.”
For a long moment, Maya didn’t say anything. She just leaned her head against Riley’s shoulder, and Riley let her, the two of them sitting there like they had a hundred times before — different room, same heart.
From the doorway, someone cleared their throat softly.
Both girls turned.
Josh stood leaning against the doorframe, smiling quietly, hands in his pockets. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just came to see what happened to my girlfriend. Thought maybe you’d kidnapped her.”
Riley grinned. “Maybe I did.”
Josh chuckled, crossing his arms. “Fair. You can steal her anytime.”
Riley stood and brushed off her jeans, giving Maya’s knee a little squeeze before she passed. “I’ll give her back this time.” She paused by the door, looking between them. “Love you, blondie.”
“Love you too, cupcake,” Maya said softly.
Riley slipped past Josh, and for a moment, he stayed where he was, watching her go. Then he looked at Maya — sitting cross-legged on the bed, looking smaller somehow under the fairy lights.
He smiled faintly. “You okay?”
She nodded, even though her eyes were still a little glassy. “Yeah. Just… realizing stuff.”
He walked over, sitting beside her, close enough that their knees touched. “Dangerous pastime.”
She smiled at that, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You heard me, didn’t you?”
“Every word,” he admitted quietly. “And for the record… yeah. We grew up. But I think we did it pretty well.”
Maya laughed softly, wiping her cheek. “Yeah. Not bad for the disaster kids from middle school.”
He nudged her lightly. “Speak for yourself. I was always an overachiever.”
She gave him a side-eye. “You literally failed at being sneaky when you dated me.”
“Still worked out,” he said with a grin.
She smiled back, soft and tired and happy. “Yeah. It really did.”
Amy was the first to start gathering her things, helping Alan into his jacket. “We should get going before the roads ice over,” she said, glancing out the window. “Philly’s a long drive, and I know this one—” she nudged Alan with a smile, “—is going to fall asleep the second we hit the highway.”
Alan yawned right on cue. “Already halfway there.”
Josh grinned and stepped forward to hug them both. “Thanks for coming, guys. Seriously.”
Amy kissed his cheek, lingering a moment longer than necessary. “You did good, sweetheart. We’re proud of you.”
Josh smiled softly. “Thanks, Mom.”
When she turned to Maya, Amy’s expression brightened. “Maya, thank you for having us, dear. Dinner was wonderful.”
Maya laughed. “I’m not sure wonderful is the word, but I appreciate the kindness.”
Amy smiled knowingly. “No, really. It was perfect. You two make a good team.”
Maya felt her chest warm as she hugged her. “Thanks, Amy. Drive safe, okay?”
“Always.”
As they stepped into the hallway, Cory and Topanga were wrangling Riley and Auggie toward the door. Cory was muttering something about traffic apps while Topanga was re-packing half the leftovers into containers.
“Mom,” Riley protested, “we can’t take all the mashed potatoes!”
“Your father will want a midnight snack,” Topanga replied calmly, zipping her bag.
Josh laughed as he came over to hug his brother. “Thanks for not giving me too much grief today.”
Cory smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll save some for next year.”
Josh rolled his eyes but smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
They clapped each other on the shoulder — a quiet, brotherly goodbye that said more than either would admit out loud.
Riley hugged Maya tight. “Love you, blondie.”
Maya squeezed her back, smiling into her shoulder. “Love you too, cupcake. Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Obviously.” Riley pulled back, grinning. “Try not to traumatize my uncle with your driving next time.”
“No promises,” Maya shot back with a smirk.
Topanga gave Maya a quick hug, too. “Thank you for having us, sweetie. It was wonderful.”
“Anytime,” Maya said sincerely. “You guys made it feel like… family.”
“Good,” Topanga said softly, and there was a warmth in her eyes that made Maya’s throat tighten just a little.
Finally, Auggie shuffled over — taller now, somehow towering above her. He looked unsure for a moment, then sighed dramatically and leaned down to hug her.
It caught Maya completely off guard. She laughed quietly but felt her chest ache as she wrapped her arms around him. “When did you get so tall?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“Puberty,” he said simply, muffled by her hair.
She laughed wetly and pulled back just enough to look at him. “Well, don’t grow any more. You’re making me feel old.”
Auggie cracked a grin. “You are old. You live with my uncle.”
“Watch it,” Josh warned, grinning.
Auggie smirked, then, surprisingly, squeezed Maya’s hand before heading to the door. “Thanks for dinner, Maya. It was actually good.”
That actually nearly broke her. She blinked fast, smiling through the lump in her throat. “Thanks, kid. Merry Christmas.”
He gave a small nod and followed his family out into the hallway.
Katy and Shawn lingered last. Katy hugged her daughter one more time, whispering, “You did good, baby.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Maya said softly.
Shawn smiled at Josh as he slipped on his jacket. “Take care of her, kid.”
Josh nodded, smiling easily. “Always.”
The door finally closed behind them, and the apartment fell into that deep, echoing kind of quiet that follows a long day full of love and noise.
The apartment was quiet again.
The kind of quiet that only comes after a long, full day — when laughter has settled into the walls, and the scent of food and pine lingers in the air. The tree lights blinked lazily in the corner, and outside, snow was still falling against the glass in slow, unhurried flakes.
Josh had just finished stacking the last of the dishes in the sink when he realized he hadn’t heard Maya’s voice in a while. No teasing, no humming, not even the sound of her rummaging for a snack.
He wiped his hands on a towel and looked toward their bedroom door. It was cracked open just slightly, the soft glow of the bedside lamp spilling out onto the floor.
He pushed the door open gently.
Maya was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in her Christmas pajamas and his hoodie, her legs crossed, head bowed. One hand was resting in her lap, the silver promise ring glinting faintly in the light.
At first, she was quiet. Her shoulders trembled just a little, and Josh realized — with a pang — that she was crying. Not loud, not sobbing. Just the kind of crying that came when you didn’t even mean to.
“Maya?” he said softly, closing the door behind him.
She lifted her head slightly, blinking quickly and swiping at her cheeks. “Hey.” Her voice was small, scratchy around the edges. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to— I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe that for a second.
Josh crossed the room and sat down beside her without a word. The bed dipped under his weight, and for a moment, he just stayed there — close enough for her to know he wasn’t going anywhere.
“What’s wrong?” he asked finally, voice low.
She shook her head, laughing a little through a sniffle. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” She let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “I don’t even know. It’s been such a good day, you know? Everyone’s here, it’s Christmas, everything’s perfect, and I just—” Her voice cracked. “I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe.”
Josh’s expression softened. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey. It’s okay. Just talk to me.”
Maya let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I think it just hit me. All of it. The fact that this is our life now. I mean—” she gestured around helplessly — “this apartment, college, bills, people trusting me to actually know what I’m doing.” Her voice wavered. “When did that happen? When did we get here?”
Josh’s heart clenched. He scooted closer, looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against his side. “It kind of sneaks up on you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, her head resting against his chest. “I didn’t realize I’d grown up,” she whispered.
Josh smiled faintly, pressing his lips against the top of her hair. “You grew up very nicely.”
That made her huff out a weak, wet laugh against his shirt. “You have to say that.”
He tilted her chin up gently so she’d look at him. “No. I don’t.” His voice was steady, quiet but sure. “I’d never lie to you, Maya.”
Her lip trembled again, and she laughed softly, the kind of laugh people make when they’re trying not to cry harder. “God, you’re too good at this. It’s annoying.”
Josh chuckled under his breath. “Years of practice, Hart.”
She leaned back into him, tears still slipping down her cheeks. “It’s just scary sometimes,” she murmured. “Being happy. Having all of this. It feels like it could disappear, like one day I’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone.”
He rubbed slow circles on her back, patient and gentle. “It won’t disappear.”
“You don’t know that,” she whispered.
“I don’t have to,” he said softly. “Because whatever happens — wherever we end up — we’ll handle it. Together. That’s the deal, right?”
She looked up at him through damp lashes, eyes glassy. “Together.”
Josh nodded. “You’re not alone in this, Maya. You never will be.”
For a long moment, she just stared at him, her face soft and open in a way that still knocked the wind out of him. Then she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest.
He held her tightly, both arms wrapped around her, one hand in her hair, the other rubbing soothing lines along her back. Her body shook with quiet sobs, and he just let her — no words, no hurry. Just the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her ear and the soft sound of the snow outside.
Eventually, her breathing evened out again. She stayed there, still holding onto him like she was afraid to let go.
“Sorry,” she whispered against his shirt. “I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”
He smiled, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “You don’t ever have to apologize for feeling things.”
She smiled weakly. “You’d think I’d be better at it by now.”
“You’re better at it than you think,” he said. “You just don’t see it. You’ve grown so much, Maya. You still have that fire — the same one you had when you were sixteen and scared and stubborn. You didn’t lose it. You just learned how to use it.”
She blinked up at him, a tear escaping despite her smile. “You make everything sound so easy.”
“It’s not easy,” he said, his voice quiet. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
That made her laugh softly again, tired but genuine. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight, Matthews.”
He grinned. “It’s Christmas. I’m allowed to be sappy.”
She leaned in and kissed him — slow, soft, full of everything she couldn’t quite put into words. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For… this. For always knowing what to say. For being you.”
He smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Maya.”
Her eyes softened. “Still. I’m glad it’s you.”
Josh brushed his thumb over her promise ring, the silver band glinting faintly under the lamplight. “You know,” he said quietly, “when I gave you this, I meant it. It’s not just a promise for the future — it’s a reminder. That you’re not doing any of this alone.”
Maya looked down at the ring, twisting it gently on her finger. “I know,” she whispered. “And that’s the part that scares me the least.”
He smiled, pulling her in again. “Good.”