1
KATHERINE
Airports feel different in December. Everything is softer somehow. Warmer, lighter, full of love and happiness. And they look even better. Strings of white lights are wrapped around pillars that don’t need them, fake pine garlands hang above arrival gates, and a Mariah Carey song is playing faintly somewhere it really shouldn’t be. People move with purpose, but there’s a lightness to them too, like they are all carrying a little more hope than usual.
Christmas does that.
It’s my favorite holiday. Always has been. I love the lights, the music, the way cinnamon seems to appear out of nowhere this time of year, woven into candles, pastries, and warm drinksmeant to be held with two hands. December is supposed to feel like comfort and belonging.
Which is probably why being here, at the airport, alone, on my birthday, feels wrong.
I recheck my phone.
Landed.
Thank the heavens. Because if Addison doesn’t walk through those sliding doors soon, I might actually start overthinking everything, and that would be tragic even by my standards.
Twenty-seven.
Another birthday wrapped in twinkling lights and unmet expectations. Another year of smiling politely when people ask what I’m doing for the holidays and pretending I don’t hear the unspoken follow-up:Who are you doing them with?
I’m happy. I really am. December always makes me happy. I’m just… also sad.
Single again, watching couples embrace under the mistletoe someone hung too early, and families fold into each other in perfect reunion. My mother’s voice hums quietly in the back of my mind, reminding me that twenty-seven is not young anymore. That time moves whether I’m ready or not. As if I’m not already painfully aware of that.
I shove my phone into my bag just as the crowd shifts. Then I see her.
Addison strides out of arrivals like she’s immune to exhaustion, her coat slung over one shoulder, eyes sharp despite the fatigue clinging to her. Afghanistan hasn’t left her yet. I can see it in the way she’s scanning the room and how her posture never fully relaxes. Still, she smiles when she spots me, and something in my chest loosens instantly.
We collide in the middle of the terminal, my arms wrapping around her like I can anchor her here just by holding on.
“Addy,” I breathe.
“Someone missed me,” she laughs.
“I need to confirm you’re real,” I mumble. “And alive.”
She pulls back. “Alive? Absolutely, but traumatized, starving, and very ready for civilization.”
I smile, my chest feeling lighter with her here. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” She grins. “Happy birthday,” she adds, studying my face. “Or is it not ahappybirthday?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“A bit contradictory. You have holiday lights in your eyes and disappointment in your aura,” she mocks dryly. “Classic December birthday behavior.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not wrong. I fiercely love this time of year. I just didn’t expect to still be celebrating it alone.
“Come on,” Addison beckons, already grabbing her bag. “Let’s fix your mood. Drinks are on me tonight.”
“It’s late,” I protest, even as I follow.
“So? It’s December. The rules are different.”
She glances back at me, smile turning wicked. “There’s a bar here in the airport. It’s actually really nice. Live music. Strong drinks. And”—her voice drops conspiratorially—“it’s the perfect place to hook up with strangers you’ll never see again.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You are unbelievable.”
