I stayed back, watching as Wynter’s sisters filled the apartment with their usual energy. It was like they carried their own little universe with them—loud, vibrant, and impossible to ignore. Wynter matched their pace seamlessly, laughing at their jokes and firing back quick comebacks like he hadn’t been struggling to stay upright an hour ago.
But I noticed the cracks in his performance. The way his laugh lingered a second too long, how he’d subtly lean against the back of the couch for support, or how his hand drifted to his stomachwhen he thought no one was looking. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but not from me.
Wynter was fussing over Bae again, his hands busy wrapping a scarf around her neck while she sat on the couch with an exaggerated scowl.
“You’re going to freeze if you go out like this,” he said, crouching in front of her and tugging at the scarf until it sat just right. His voice was patient, but his brow furrowed with that quiet determination he always had when he decided someone needed taking care of.
Bae groaned. “I have a coat, Wyn. It’s right there.” She gestured vaguely toward the puffer jacket lying half off the couch.
“That’s not enough,” Wynter replied, completely unbothered. “Layers, Bae. Layers are your friend.”
From my spot in the kitchen, I smirked into my tea. “You’re wasting your breath, Wyn,” I called over. “She’ll complain about the scarf the second we’re outside.”
Bae shot me a glare. “Not true!”
“Completely true,” Beck chimed in, sprawled in the armchair flipping through a magazine. “Don’t act like you haven’t whined about us forcing ‘itchy scarves’ on you before.”
Bae crossed her arms but didn’t argue further as Wynter pulled out a pair of gloves from a drawer and handed them to her. “If you’re going to whine about anything,” he said with a small smile, “it won’t be about being cold.”
She rolled her eyes but took the gloves anyway, muttering, “You’re so bossy.”
“And you’re awfully stubborn,” Wynter countered, kneeling again to slip thick wool socks over her feet. “But fortunately, I’ll always do what’s best for you”
They were all awfully English. It was endearing.
Watching him work, I couldn’t help but smile. He had this quiet way of showing care, a balance of patience and persistence that always seemed to win people over—well eventually.
“Youreallymissed your calling as a mommy blogger,” Beck teased from her chair, grinning.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Wynter replied easily, not even looking up.
Once Bae was properly layered and grumbling under her breath about “fashion sacrifices,” Wynter headed into the kitchen, brushing past me with a light touch to my back as he opened the cabinet above the sink.
“I’ll do it,” he said, reaching for the flasks.
I leaned against the counter, watching him. Wynter moved with quiet precision, filling each flask like it was a ritual. He knew exactly what everyone wanted without asking.
“Beck,” he murmured, pouring hot water over peppermint tea leaves, “heavy on the honey.” He snapped the lid onto the red flask and set it on the counter.
“True perfection,” Beck said from the living room, lifting her head just enough to flash him a grin.
“Bae,” Wynter continued, reaching for the yellow flask, “chai with extra cinnamon.”
“Bless your soul, Winnie The Pooh,” Bae said, already reaching for it before he’d even handed it to her.
“And for Yesoh…” His voice softened, and I felt my heart squeeze a little as he turned to the blue flask. “Jasmine tea. No sugar.” He held it out to me, his expression warm but casual, like it was nothing.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. Our fingers brushed, and his smile deepened, just enough for me to notice.
“Don’t forget yours,” I said, nodding toward the black flask he’d left last.
“Matcha,” he said simply, pouring his own without hesitation.
“All right,” Wynter said as he capped the last flask and lined them up on the counter. “Everyone’s fed, fueled, and layered. Let’s move before Beck starts giving us a motivational speech about the virtues of being on time.”
Beck rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m not that bad. You’re making me sound like Nanny McPhee reincarnated.”
“You are,” Bae and I said in unison. “And we, in fact, don’t need you, so you must go.”
