She worked quickly, her hands sure and confident, shaping something with care. Others tried to see what she was creating, but she shielded it with her body until it was done.
When she finally stepped back, there it was—a gingerbread heart. Not perfect, slightly crooked, with a deliberate crack down the middle that had been carefully sealed with icing.
"It's broken," Mrs. Morrison said, confused.
"It's mended," Marianne corrected. "Broken things can be mended if you're careful. If you're patient. If you use the right binding."
She was looking at Alaric as she said it, and he understood. This wasn't just gingerbread. This was a metaphor, a promise, a possibility.
"It's beautiful," he said softly.
"It's honest," she replied.
"Same thing, sometimes."
"Sometimes."
The church bells began to chime, warning that midnight was approaching. Everyone began gathering their gingerbread, preparing to return to the bonfire for the New Year countdown.
"Wait," Marianne said, picking up the heart. She broke it carefully along the crack, creating two pieces, and handed one to Alaric. "Keep this. To prove you're not entirely hopeless."
"It's broken," he said, echoing her words from their first baking attempt.
"Most real things are," she replied. "But broken doesn't mean worthless."
"No," he agreed, carefully holding the half-heart. "It doesn't."
They walked back to the bonfire together, and this time when Marianne took his arm, it felt natural, right, like something sliding into place. The crowd had gathered around the fire, everyone preparing for the midnight moment.
"Dance with me," Alaric said suddenly as the musicians began playing.
"Now?"
"Now. Before midnight. During midnight. After midnight. Always."
"That's a lot of dancing."
"Start with now and we'll see about always."
"You've been practicing," she observed as he led her into the dancing area.
"Thomas taught me the local dances."
"Of course he did. That boy is determined to see us together."
"Smart boy."
"Meddling boy."
"Successfully meddling, apparently."
They danced, and it was perfect. Not technically perfect, he still wasn't entirely sure of all the steps, but perfect in the way that mattered. They fit together, moving in harmony, the rest of the world fading away even though they were surrounded by the entire village.
"Everyone's watching," Marianne murmured.
"Let them watch."
"They think I've forgiven too easily."
