Mika
Mika didn’t care what anyone said. Christmas was the greatest time of the year. She loved Christmas. She really, really did. That was because in her family, Christmas was all about love.
It’s where her grandpa met her grandmother, and her mom met her dad. It’s when her sister met her boyfriend. They broke up.
Mika didn’t have her own love story; she… tried. For a while she had this fantasy that she’d meet the perfect person browsing at the Elliott Bay.
She had met someone there before, viewing one of her favourite books. She went on a tangent, a long one, about how it was one of her favourites. Telling him that it was set in New York. That all of the best books are. She asked him if he’s ever read Seymour: An Introduction. Clarifying that she didn’t like it as much as Franny and Zooey. That the narrator said whatever popped into his head, which, ironically, was what she was doing then. But she did recommend reading Seymour if he liked Franny and Zooey.
To her disappointment, he offered a simple reply:
This is for college.
Mika’s great aunt, Mrs. Basil E, says she’s an old soul. Her sister, Chloe, says she’s too cool for people her age. She thinks they’re just being nice.
But, that’s okay. She doesn’t have a love story. But she has a family, and every December, she has an apartment full of decorations and relatives and platters of food and—
“Why are you packed?”
Mika stood in the doorway of her family’s living room, staring at the neatly packed suitcases by the couch.
Her mom turned to her, wearing an expression that Mika could only describe as a mix of excitement and guilt. “Sweetheart,” her mom began, her tone overly gentle, “your dad and I… well, we’re very sorry.” Her mom nodded, as if trying to sell her on the idea. “You know we never had a honeymoon. Life got in the way, and we thought, Why not Fiji?”
Mika’s dad chimed in from the other side of the room, a big grin on his face. “You can handle one Christmas without us, right?”
Her thoughts raced as she stood there, struggling to keep her expression neutral. One Christmas without you? Sure, no big deal. Just the one day of the year where everything’s supposed to feel warm and full of family—no problem. You two go enjoy sandy beaches and fruity drinks while I figure out what to do.
She felt the weight of their words pressing down on her. Christmas was already a complicated, messy time for her. It was hard enough trying to manage her feelings about the season without having to face it completely alone.
But what could she say? They were her parents. They deserved happiness, didn’t they? She wasn’t about to be the daughter who ruined their dream trip just because she couldn’t figure out how to handle her own holiday blues.
Mika nodded, her thoughts running wild. Sure, I understand. I understand that while you’re snorkelling and taking selfies on the beach, I’ll be sitting here. But it’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll just… I don’t know; figure something out.
Then, as if the universe wasn’t quite done with her yet, her grandpa added, “I’m heading to Florida. To see my female friend who’s not a girlfriend.”
Of course he is, Mika thought, running a hand through her hair. Because nothing screams ‘Christmas spirit’ like being left alone with no holiday plans.
Mika stood by the window, watching as her parents and grandpa piled into the cab, waving enthusiastically as if they weren’t leaving her behind on the most family-orientated holiday of the year. Her mom blew her a kiss, and her dad gave her a thumbs-up before shutting the door.
The cab pulled away, and as soon as it turned the corner, Mika let out a deep sigh, her breath fogging up the cold glass. She turned around, finding her younger sister Chloe sprawled on the couch, glued to her phone.
“Hey,” Mika started, her voice laced with careful optimism, “I thought maybe we could go to Astra Lumina tonight. You know, see the lights? Keep up the tradition?”
Chloe didn’t even look up from her screen. “Yeah, about that…” She tapped a few times on her phone before finally meeting Mika’s eyes. “I just got a date. And he’s, like, coming over right now. So, could you, like, go somewhere?”
The words hit Mika harder than she expected, but she quickly schooled her expression into something resembling indifference. She forced a smile, her lips stretching just enough to pass for genuine. “Sure,” she said lightly, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her chest.
“Thanks,” Chloe said, her attention already back on her phone, as if the conversation hadn’t even happened.
Mika began walking to her bedroom. Of course. Why not? It’s not like I wanted to spend time with you or anything. It’s not like this is literally the last person in my family I could hang out with right now. But sure. I’ll just go… somewhere.
Mika doesn’t have a love story, and that’s okay. She doesn’t need one. She has Christmas.
The city was alive with holiday cheer—twinkling lights strung across lampposts, wreaths hanging in shop windows, and the sound of Christmas music drifting through the air. It should have felt magical, but to Mika, it just felt… hollow.
She passed a coffee shop, the warm glow from inside spilling onto the street. People were packed in around tiny tables, holding steaming mugs and laughing together. Mika’s footsteps slowed as she glanced inside. A group of friends, all wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, clinked their cups together in a mock toast.
She turned her gaze away quickly, biting the inside of her cheek. Must be nice, she thought. All that holiday spirit, all that warmth, all that… company.
She picked up her pace, stuffing her hands deeper into her coat pockets. The cold nipped at her face, and her mind raced. This can’t be how my night goes. I can’t just sit at home, watching the world celebrate while I feel sorry for myself.
Then, as she walked past another brightly lit store, an idea struck her. It was small at first, just a spark, but the more she thought about it, the more it grew. She stopped in her tracks, pulling out her phone and typing quickly.
Calling all carollers!
She grinned as she wrote, the momentum building.
If no one else is going to make this Christmas feel special, then I’ll do it myself, she thought. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to do it alone.
Mika pushed the door open and froze in her tracks. Chloe and her date were under the covers, doing God knows what.
“I formed a carolling—oh my god!” Mika shrieked instinctively, throwing her hands up in mock horror.
Chloe whipped her head around, her cheeks flushing bright red. “Mika! Get out!”
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. The door creaked open, and Chloe stepped inside, her expression somewhere between sheepish and defensive.
“Can we try that again?” Chloe asked, leaning against the doorframe. “Do anything fun today?”
Mika pushed herself up on her elbows, giving her sister a sidelong glance. “Yeah,” she said with a casual shrug. “I formed a carolling troupe.”
Chloe blinked, tilting her head. “And who is in this group?”
“Oh, just some friends from the neighbourhood,” Mika replied nonchalantly. “Teddy, Owen, Richard…”
Chloe’s brow furrowed, and a familiar look of concern crossed her face. “Mika, are you hanging out with people double your age again?”
Mika grinned. “Maybe,” she said. “But they’re easier to talk to. They read actual books, they don’t judge what I wear, and…” She paused for effect, smirking. “They drink a lot.”
Chloe snorted despite herself. “Right, of course. Gotta love those boozy carollers.”
“Other than Richard,” Mika added with seriousness.
“Poor Richard,” Chloe said, shaking her head.
Mika laughed, and for a moment, the tension from earlier melted away. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small victory—enough to keep her spirits afloat for just a little while longer.
Chloe leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile on her face. “His name is Bradley. He’s an actor. Well, right now, he’s a barista, but he’s trying to make it big. I think I really like him.”
Mika smiled back, and it wasn’t entirely forced. “I’m happy for you, Chloe,” she said earnestly. And she was—Chloe deserved happiness. But there was still a sting in her chest, a hollow ache she couldn’t quite shake. She wished she could feel the same kind of excitement, the same warmth of connection, with someone of her own.
Chloe must’ve noticed something in her expression because she stepped closer. “Mika, you’re amazing. You’ll find someone amazing too, I promise.”
Mika rolled her eyes, letting out a dry laugh. “I’m not like you, Chloe. I’m not good at meeting people or talking to them. I’m good at scaring them away.”
She looked away, her voice softening. “It’s just easier, you know? To keep my head down and focus on my own stuff. People get weird. Or they don’t understand. Or…” She shrugged, unwilling to finish the thought.
Chloe sat down beside her on the bed and nudged her gently. “God, give me some tips, then. Guys won’t leave me alone.”
Mika raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Here’s a tip: delete Tinder.”
Chloe laughed, the kind of laugh that was so loud and unrestrained it made Mika laugh too. They mocked the idea together, joking about fake profiles and awkward first dates.
For a moment, the heaviness in Mika’s chest lifted. She knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now, it was enough.
Chloe’s gaze drifted to the red notebook in Mika’s hands, her eyebrows knitting together with recognition. “Wait a second,” she said, reaching over and plucking it from Mika’s grip before she could react. “I remember these red notebooks! Mrs. Basil E used to hand them out to us in her ‘Creative Outlets’ phase. She said it’d be good for processing our feelings or whatever.”
Mika smirked, folding her arms. “And how’d that go for you?”
Chloe laughed, flipping the pages idly. “I used it like, twice. Wrote about how Mom wouldn’t let me go to the mall that one time and then abandoned it. But you…” She paused, looking at Mika with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. “You stuck with it. Why?”
Mika reached out and gently took the notebook back. She shrugged, running her fingers over the worn cover. “I don’t know. It’s easier sometimes. When I can’t say something out loud, I write it down. It’s… less scary that way.”
Before Mika could tuck the notebook away, Chloe snatched it out of her hands again.
“Chloe!” Mika protested, lunging forward, but Chloe deftly sidestepped her.
“This is perfect,” Chloe declared, flipping to the most recent page Mika had written on. Without hesitation, she tore it out with a dramatic flourish. “Way better than Tinder. Give me that pen.”
“What are you doing?” Mika asked, genuinely baffled.
Chloe didn’t answer right away. She grabbed a pen off Mika’s nightstand and started scribbling furiously on the torn-out page. Her tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a habit that Mika remembered from childhood.
A voice came from the doorway, interrupting the quiet murmurs between Mika and Chloe.
“What are we doing?” Bradley asked, leaning casually against the doorframe with a curious grin.
Mika and Chloe turned toward him, their expressions a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. Chloe was the first to answer, clearly undeterred by the intrusion.
“Devising a quest to help her find her soulmate,” Chloe said with a dramatic flourish, pointing at Mika.
“Okay,” Mika said flatly, rolling her eyes. “That’s not what this is.”
But Bradley’s grin widened, his interest piqued. “A quest, huh? Sounds fun. Can I help?”
Mika opened her mouth to protest, but Chloe cut in before she could.
“Actually, yes, you can,” Chloe said, giving him a mischievous smile. “It’s going to be a scavenger hunt. We need books.”
“Books?” Bradley repeated, his brows furrowing.
“Books,” Chloe confirmed. “Grab a few from the shelf over there.”
Bradley shrugged and crossed the room, scanning the bookshelves as if this were a totally normal way to spend an evening. Meanwhile, Mika pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly regretting ever mentioning the notebook.
“This is ridiculous,” Mika muttered.
“No, it’s brilliant,” Chloe countered, nudging her sister playfully. “And you know it.”
Mika sighed, but a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. This might have been Chloe’s chaotic idea, but a small part of her couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling beneath her irritation.
Chloe grinned mischievously, flipping through the books she had pulled from the shelf. “Okay, we’ve got The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. Now, Fat Hoochie Prom Queen,” she said, her tone dramatic and playful.
Bradley raised an eyebrow, looking at the stack of books in his hands. He smirked, tossing in his suggestion with casual confidence. “The Joys of Lesbian Sex?”
Mika’s face flushed instantly, a wave of heat rushing to her cheeks as Bradley’s words hung in the air. She tightened her grip on the sheets of her bed, feeling as though every vulnerable part of her was suddenly on display under a spotlight. Both Chloe and Bradley had turned to her, their expressions varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.
“What?” she said defensively, her voice an octave higher than she intended. “It’s mine, okay?” She could hear the awkward edge to her own tone and hated it.
Chloe raised an eyebrow, clearly holding back a laugh. “Sure, Mika.”
Bradley grinned, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no judgment. I’m just saying it’s an interesting addition to the list.”
Mika let out an exasperated sigh, more to mask her embarrassment than anything else. “I’m only allowing this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the scene unfolding in front of her, “because I know it’ll never work.”
Chloe smirked, rifling through a stack of books Bradley had grabbed. “Oh, ye of little faith. That’s what makes it fun, Mika. The mystery, the drama, the possibility of it working.”
Mika’s eyes darted between Chloe and Bradley, who were now practically radiating excitement. The two of them seemed to have transformed her already chaotic night into something resembling a rom-com plot, and she wasn’t entirely sure how it had come to this.
Chloe’s smile widened as she leaned forward, clearly savouring the moment. “I haven’t even told you the best part yet,” she said, her voice full of mischief.
Mika raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but also skeptical. “Oh, really? What’s the best part?” she asked, half-expecting it to be something ridiculous.
Chloe’s grin stretched across her face as she lowered her voice, making it sound almost conspiratorial. “You’re going to hide it... at the Elliott Bay.”
Mika’s expression shifted. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face. “Oh, I don’t know…” she trailed off, unsure if this was such a good idea.
But Chloe wasn’t done. She leaned in, practically giddy with excitement. “Next to Franny and Zooey,” she added, as though this sealed the deal.
Mika froze for a moment, the suggestion sinking in. A mix of surprise and disbelief washed over her face as she processed what Chloe was saying. She had to admit—there was something almost poetic about it, something fitting. Franny and Zooey—a book that seemed to capture a sense of searching, of uncertainty, of the very thing Mika had been feeling.
Mika hesitated for a moment. The idea of letting her personal notebook, the one she had poured her thoughts and feelings into, become part of some elaborate scavenger hunt felt equal parts thrilling and terrifying. But when Chloe mentioned Elliott Bay Book Company, Mika couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face.
“Fine. But it’s my notebook. I get to pick something to include.” She says, taking the notebook from Chloe.
Chloe rolled her eyes, clearly amused, but handed Mika the pen. “Go ahead, mastermind. What’s your brilliant addition?”
Mika opened her phone, scrolling through her playlists as ideas formed. She stopped when her thumb hovered over River by Joni Mitchell. There was something about the melancholy in that song, the way it captured longing and bittersweet memories, that felt right for this.
“A song,” Mika said, her voice quieter now as she handed Chloe her phone.
Chloe took it, putting one earbud in her ear. “Oh my god, this is sad,” she said after a moment, the first notes playing softly between them.
Bradley leaned in, taking the other earbud. His expression shifted as he listened, his usual playful demeanour giving way to something softer. “No,” he said, nodding. “It’s perfect.”
Mika smirked, grabbing the pen and writing the title of the song on the page beneath her clue. “Perfectly depressing,” she said, though there was a warmth in her voice. She looked at Chloe and Bradley, who were now sharing the earbuds like they were auditioning for a Christmas indie film.
Chloe handed the phone back and grinned. “You’ve got a mood, I’ll give you that. And honestly? This song might just be the thing that pulls your cute girl in.”
Mika shook her head, rolling her eyes, but a faint blush rose to her cheeks. “It’s not about pulling anyone in,” she muttered.
Bradley pointed toward the notebook with a grin. “Oh, it’s exactly about that.”
Mika stared down at the red notebook in her hands, feeling the weight of its pages. The soft, worn leather cover felt comforting, as though it had been waiting for this moment. But now, as she contemplated the next step in this bizarre, unexpected journey, she couldn’t help but feel a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest.
What if she did find someone? What if this game, this scavenger hunt, actually led her to something real?
Mika’s thoughts spiralled, as they often did when her mind wandered too far into the “what ifs.” Her fingers traced the edges of the notebook as she imagined a life where she wasn’t just playing along in a game but where she had someone—someone who understood her, someone who might look at her the way she wanted to be seen, not as the awkward, distant girl she sometimes felt like.
What would it be like to have someone she could trust with everything? To share the kind of quiet, meaningful moments that made the world feel less heavy, less lonely? She pictured it—a warm hand to hold in the cold, a soft laugh shared over an inside joke, the kind of intimacy that came with time and connection, with being able to truly be yourself without fear of judgement.
Her heart fluttered in her chest, a mix of excitement and fear. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it; it was more the idea that it could be so... easy. Too easy. What if the connection she was hoping for wasn’t real? What if it was all just wishful thinking, a fantasy that she could never actually live out?
Mika's thoughts drifted to the idea of finding someone who could look past her insecurities, who wouldn’t care about her awkwardness or the little quirks she had. Someone who wouldn’t judge her for the things she liked or the way she dressed, someone who would embrace her for exactly who she was. Maybe she was looking for something out of a movie—something too perfect to be real—but what if it was? What if there was someone out there who would get it, who would get her?
The idea lingered in her mind, tantalising and almost painful in its possibility. But then the doubts crept in, like they always did.
She wasn’t like Chloe, the girl who seemed to have no trouble meeting people, or even Bradley, who was charming and confident. Mika wasn’t that type. She wasn’t good at putting herself out there. When it came to talking to new people, her words often felt too big for her mouth, too clumsy for anyone to take seriously. What if she couldn’t live up to whatever expectations this person might have? What if they didn’t like her the way she secretly hoped they would?
The thought of rejection made her stomach turn. Maybe that was why she stayed in her shell, why she kept her distance from the world of love and romance. Because it was safer, easier to wonder about the possibilities than to face the reality of them.
But then again...
What if she could take that leap, even just a small one, and let herself believe that maybe there was someone out there who wanted her as much as she wanted them?
Mika felt a tightness in her chest at the thought. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that kind of vulnerability. But the truth was, maybe she didn’t have to be “ready.” Maybe, just maybe, that was the point of the notebook—of the clues, of the scavenger hunt. It wasn’t about having everything figured out. It was about taking that first step, however small, and seeing where it would lead.
The glimmer of possibility sparkled in her chest, a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty. Maybe this notebook, this strange adventure, was what she needed to help her believe in herself again. To let go of the fear that had kept her from stepping into the unknown.
Maybe she didn’t have to have it all figured out. Maybe she just had to trust the process, trust the clues, and trust that whatever happened, she’d be okay. And if, in the end, it didn’t work out? At least she’d know she had tried.
A soft sigh left her lips, and for the first time in a while, Mika allowed herself to believe—just for a moment—that something real, something beautiful, could be waiting for her, just beyond the next clue.
Mika walked through the bookshop, her footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor. The scent of paper and ink, mixed with the faint hint of coffee from the café at the back, wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. She scanned the aisles, her mind preoccupied with the odd feeling that had settled over her since leaving the notebook on the shelf. There was a sense of finality to it, as though she had crossed an invisible line. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or anxious.
When she reached the aisle where Franny and Zooey sat, she took a deep breath. She knew she was doing the right thing, even if a small part of her wanted to hold onto the notebook just a little longer.
With a practiced hand, she tucked the red notebook behind the familiar cover, letting it settle snugly on the shelf. She stepped back, looking at the space where it had now been filled. It felt almost surreal.
She had done it. The notebook was now in the hands of someone else. Someone who might understand, or at least feel the same tug of curiosity she had when first picking it up. Mika turned, taking one last look at the shelf before walking away.
The house was quiet, save for the soft thuds of Mika’s boots on the wooden floor as she struggled with the Christmas tree she had dragged inside. Its thick trunk was wedged awkwardly in the doorway, and she had to angle it just right to get it through without knocking over half the furniture.
“Come on, you stubborn thing,” she muttered, pushing it harder. The tree shifted, then tilted. She tugged again, trying to stabilise it, but it was too much. With a low crash, it fell sideways. Mika sighed in exasperation, standing there for a moment before groaning and trying to right it again.
Finally, she managed to get it straight, the tree leaning precariously as she secured it in the stand. Mika wiped her hands on her sweater, already feeling the sting of frustration at the mess she was making.
Her oven timer buzzed loudly, cutting through the silence, and she startled, hurrying to the kitchen. She pulled the cookies out, their golden edges a little too dark for her liking, but she didn’t mind. It was part of the charm, she thought, as she set the warm cookies on top of the stove to cool.
She was just about to turn to check the tree again when her phone dinged, and she froze, her heart skipping a beat. She glanced down at the screen.
It was a message from Cousin Matt. You got a bite.
Mika’s stomach did a flip, her eyes widening. She jumped up and down, a little giddy, but immediately caught herself. She wasn’t supposed to get excited. She wasn’t supposed to let her hopes get too high. Not yet.
“Yes,” she whispered under her breath, allowing herself a small, quiet moment of triumph. “Yes, yes, yes!” But then, with a deep breath, she straightened up.
“Play it cool. Play it cool,” she muttered to herself, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Mika looked back at the cookies, her fingers brushing them lightly before she went to grab her phone. There was no need to rush. No need to seem too eager. She couldn’t let herself fall too hard, too fast.
She unlocked her phone, taking a steadying breath before reading the message from Matt.
Mika peeked through the small gap in the books, catching sight of her cousin Matt on the other side. His expression was unreadable, though a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as she fired off her questions.
“Were they nice? Were they cute?” Mika asked in a hushed, urgent tone. “Okay, are you sure it was someone my age? How would you describe them?”
Matt raised an eyebrow, sliding a book into the shelf between them. “Snarly.”
Mika blinked, her brow furrowing. “Snarly?” she echoed, confusion blooming in her chest. What did that even mean? Did they scowl? Did they have wild hair? Was it an attitude thing? Her mind raced, trying to piece together an image of this mystery person.
“And annoyingly pedantic. But hey—she committed to the Joni.” Matt said with a nod, leaning casually on the other side of the shelf. He smiled knowingly, watching Mika’s reaction.
Mika froze. She.
Her thoughts spun. So the person wasn’t a him, but a her. That changed things—or maybe it didn’t? Was it her own assumptions that made her think it’d be a guy? Why did her heart skip a beat hearing that word? She didn’t even know this person, yet the realisation sent a jolt through her chest.
“Did she leave a message?” Mika asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Matt nodded, pulling a book from his stack and holding it out to her. His smile grew as he added, “She also left instructions.”
Mika hesitated for a moment before taking the book. Her fingers brushed the cover as she stared down at it, her stomach doing a little flip. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but the possibilities loomed large in her mind.
Her thoughts turned back to snarly and pedantic. Who was this girl, and what had she written? Whatever it was, Mika knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t walk away now.
Mika pushed open the door to the bookshop; the red notebook was open in her hands. She skimmed through the handwriting, her breath visible in the cold air.
Her eyes landed on the newest message, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
Mika burst through Chloe’s bedroom door, her voice sharp and indignant. “She hates Christmas.”
Chloe yelped, diving further under her covers. “Mika! Get out of my room!”
Bradley’s head emerged from the duvet, his hair sticking up in every direction. He blinked at Mika, wide-eyed. “Holy shit. You got a taker?” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “What did she say?”
Mika tightened her grip on the notebook, the indignation flaring again as she glanced at the scrawled words. She began reading aloud, her tone incredulous.
“‘It’s the most detestable time of the year. The cheer, the decorations, the carolling.’”
Chloe, now peeking out from the covers, tilted her head. “Wait... you said she?”
Mika froze, her mouth slightly open, the notebook clutched against her chest like it could shield her from the follow-up questions.
Chloe pushed herself up, her curiosity piqued. “Mika…” she started slowly, a sly grin forming on her lips. “Are you saying Notebook Girl is a she?”
Bradley let out a dramatic gasp. “Notebook Girl’s a lady? This just got way more interesting.”
Mika’s cheeks burned. “That’s not the point,” she snapped, trying to deflect. “The point is, who hates Christmas? What kind of person writes that?!”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “Wow, did she get you wrong.”
“Because of you!” Mika countered, jabbing a finger in Chloe’s direction. “You wrote those clues. You made me sound jaded and snarky and... cool!”
From under the covers, Bradley grinned lazily. “I think you’re cool.”
Mika blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh, thanks, Bradley.” Then she shook her head, focusing again on the notebook. “She left her own clues. She wants me to follow them.”
Chloe leaned forward slightly, her face lighting up with mischief. “Then follow them.” She waved her hand dramatically, as if shooing Mika out of the room from afar, her smile daring.
Mika crossed her arms, standing her ground. “I’m not doing it.” Her voice was firm, though it wavered ever so slightly. “We... we obviously have nothing in common.”
Mika’s grip tightened on the red cover, her knuckles whitening. She glanced down at the page again, the words mocking her resolve.
Mika lingered in the doorway, clutching the notebook tightly to her chest like it might anchor her in place. She felt the weight of Chloe's words pressing down on her, heavier than she’d expected. Her sister was lying there, cosy and confident, and Mika stood there feeling small and exposed, like every emotion she was trying to bury had been yanked to the surface.
Her face faltered—eyebrows knitting together, lips parting as if to respond, then closing again. She hated how conflicted she felt, how one part of her wanted to toss the notebook aside and walk away, and another part screamed at her to keep going, to find out what might be waiting for her.
Chloe watched her silently, her teasing smirk replaced by something gentler, but she didn’t press further. “Mika,” she said finally, her voice soft, “I love you. I’d never make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
Mika looked at her, waiting, like she was bracing for the other shoe to drop. “But...”
Chloe raised an eyebrow, giving her nothing. “But what? Put the book back on the shelf and try again.”
The words hit Mika harder than she expected. She stared at her sister, stunned and, for the first time in a while, unsure of what she even wanted. She had come in hoping for clarity—maybe even for Chloe to push her in one direction—but this felt like being thrown into the deep end of her own indecision.
“I thought you’d say I should give her another chance,” Mika said finally, her voice small, barely more than a whisper.
Chloe rolled her eyes, the teasing smile creeping back. “That’s not how love works. You feel it or you don’t.” She shifted under the covers, tucking them closer around her. “So... close the door on your way out.”
Mika stood there, frozen, the notebook pressing into her palms like it held every answer she didn’t know how to ask for. She felt defeated, her shoulders sagging as if the air had been let out of her, but beneath the weight of that was a flicker of something else.
What if Chloe was right? What if this wasn’t love, or even close to it? But what if it could be?
She turned slowly, her chest tight with a mixture of frustration and hope she couldn’t fully understand. As she closed the door, her grip on the notebook tightened, and for the first time, she wondered if she was more afraid of finding out who Notebook Girl was—or of never finding out at all.
Mika sat cross-legged on her bed, a map of the neighbourhood spread out before her, covered in faint pencil marks and scattered circles. She tapped the pen against her lip, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which streets had the most foot traffic? Where would their carolling troupe get the best reception? These were the things she needed to figure out.
But her mind refused to stay on task. No matter how hard she tried, the notebook kept creeping back in—its crimson cover flashing in her thoughts, its pages filled with sarcastic, biting words that shouldn’t have gotten under her skin but did. She hated how much she was thinking about the girl behind the notebook.
What did her voice sound like? Was she as clever in person as she was in writing? Or maybe she was nothing like her words at all—just someone playing a game, stringing Mika along because it was fun.
“Ugh,” Mika groaned, throwing the pen down and flopping onto her back. She stared at the ceiling, her mind buzzing with unspoken questions and half-formed theories.
After a long moment, she sat up abruptly, her resolve wavering as she glanced across the room. There it was, sitting innocently on her bedside table—the notebook that had taken over her thoughts. She glared at it like it was a living thing, like it had the audacity to taunt her even from a distance.
Without thinking, she pushed herself off the bed, crossed the room, and grabbed the notebook. Its weight in her hands felt heavier than it should, like it carried the pull of every unanswered question swirling in her mind.
“Nope,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Not today.”
She marched over to her dresser, yanked open a drawer, and chucked the notebook inside. The sound of it hitting the wood was oddly satisfying, like she’d won some small battle. She slammed the drawer shut and pressed her palms against the top of the dresser, exhaling sharply.
“There,” she said, as if convincing herself. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
But as she turned back to her bed and tried to focus on the map again, she realised it wasn’t that simple. The notebook might be out of sight, but it was far from out of mind.
Mika stood in the middle of her carolling group, tinsel draped loosely around her shoulders as their voices filled the crisp December air. They were midway through Deck the Halls, the notes flowing easily, but Mika’s mind was elsewhere.
Her thoughts drifted back to the red notebook and its infuriating, mysterious owner.
I know I should write you back, she thought, the lyrics barely slipping past her lips. But that seems scary, while carolling is cosy and safe and...
She stopped singing abruptly, her voice catching in her throat as her eyes landed on a group of girls standing a few feet away. They were laughing, their breath visible in the cold air, their arms full of shopping bags. Recognition hit her like a gust of icy wind.
They went to her college.
“Mika?” Teddy’s voice cut through her thoughts. She leaned down toward her, her brows furrowed in concern. “Don’t tell me you forgot the words. Do you know those girls?”
Mika snapped out of it, her face flushing. “They’re in my classes,” she whispered back, her voice tight.
She forced herself to look away, but her gaze betrayed her, drifting back to the group of girls. They were so confident, so… normal. Mika felt like an outsider, standing here with her mismatched carolling troupe, decked out in scarves and thrifted coats, singing in the middle of a bustling street.
A group of boys approached the girls, their energy loud and easy, and Mika watched as the two groups folded into each other seamlessly. The boys’ laughter blended with the girls’ giggles, and suddenly it seemed like they were all part of the same gravitational pull.
How do you even find a boyfriend with the workload of college? Mika wondered, her thoughts narrating the scene in her head. How do you have time to meet people, much less build a connection?
She glanced back at her group, at Teddy and Owen and Richard, who were still singing without missing a beat. They were reliable, steady, her safe haven. And yet… Her thoughts tugged her back to the notebook, to the possibility of someone who might understand her in a way no one else had before.
It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.
Mika stood in front of her carolling group, her gloved hands gripping the edges of her carefully marked map. She pointed at the circles she'd drawn, her enthusiasm palpable.
“So, I’ve mapped out all the best places we can sing. The parks, the busy blocks, and there’s—”
“It’s too cold to keep singing,” Owen interrupted, his breath forming a cloud in the freezing air.
Mika faltered, her smile dropping slightly. “Then we can do something else!” she said quickly, her voice a mix of determination and desperation. “There’s this new movie called Elemental, where a fire girl falls in love with a water boy.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment before the group started shuffling awkwardly.
“Night shift,” Richard mumbled, already turning to leave.
“My family’s coming over,” Owen added with an apologetic shrug.
“Some of us have lives, Mika,” Teddy joked, though the tone stung.
One by one, they started to walk away, their footsteps crunching in the snow.
Mika’s shoulders slumped as she called after them, her voice cracking slightly. “We could just get a coffee! Or a hot chocolate! Or we could go to a bar!”
Teddy stopped and turned back to face her, her expression soft but firm. “Look, Mika. I didn’t have that many friends when I was your age either. Young adults are awful, no offence. But if you don’t want to be alone, you’ve got to expand your bubble.”
Mika frowned, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t have a bubble,” she said defensively, crossing her arms.
Teddy gave her a knowing look, gesturing toward the map still clutched in her hand. “Look at your map,” she said simply, then turned and walked away, leaving Mika standing alone in the cold.
She glanced down at the map, her carefully planned routes suddenly feeling suffocating. The circles marked places where she thought she’d find joy, connection, warmth. But now they just seemed like boundaries she’d drawn around herself, lines that kept the world out instead of inviting it in.
Mika let out a shaky breath, her cheeks burning from more than just the cold. She folded the map slowly, tucking it into her coat pocket, and stood still for a moment, staring at the empty street ahead.
Mika sat on the edge of her bed, the red notebook resting in her lap. The faint scent of pine from the tiny tree in the corner mingled with the lingering sweetness of the cookies she’d baked earlier. Her fingers hesitated on the edge of the page, her heart pulling her in two opposing directions.
She looked down at the words again, her chest tightening as she reread the lines:
“It’s the most detestable time of the year: the cheer, the decorations, the carolling. The feeling that you’re expected to be joyful, even when you’re not. Because being alone at Christmas is somehow worse than the rest of the year. If you understand what I mean, turn the page.”
Her thumb brushed the corner of the paper. Did she understand? It wasn’t like she hated Christmas; she loved it. The lights, the music, the magic of it all. But there were moments, fleeting but sharp, when the joy felt like it was mocking her. Everyone else seemed to have someone. Her parents in Fiji, Chloe with Bradley, even her carolling friends going home to their own lives.
Her mind wandered back to the street earlier, to Teddy’s words: Expand your bubble.
She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What bubble?” she muttered. She wasn’t exactly a recluse, but she wasn’t exactly an open book either. She’d tried. She’d mapped out plans, organised carolling routes, and even baked cookies to share—trying to create connection. And yet, here she was. Alone.
Her gaze fell to the notebook again. She traced the edges of the paper with her finger, thinking about the girl who had written this. Notebook Girl. She hated Christmas, and yet, Mika couldn’t help but feel drawn to her words. There was something raw in them, something honest.
What if she understood better than she thought? What if there was more to this girl than her Grinch-like feelings toward Christmas? What if—no, she told herself, shaking her head. That was dangerous thinking. She didn’t even know her.
And yet... she felt the tiniest spark of curiosity. Of connection.
“What am I even doing?” she whispered to herself. Her hands tightened around the notebook, the edges pressing into her palms. If she turned the page, she’d be committing. To what, she wasn’t sure. But not turning it felt like closing a door she wasn’t ready to lock.
Mika sat there for a long moment, the words staring back at her, daring her to decide.
Mika turned the page, and something fluttered out, landing softly in her lap. A coupon. She picked it up and stared at it.
Adams’ House—One free pizza for your first order. Expires: December 31.
Her fingers traced the edges of the paper, slightly crinkled from being tucked inside the notebook. Adams’ House? It was familiar—she’d passed it once or twice, a cosy-looking parlour with twinkling lights in the window. She could almost smell the faint aroma of pizza just thinking about it.
Her gaze flicked to her map, still spread out on her desk. She stood, coupon in hand, and moved to study it. Sure enough, Adams’ House was just a block away from one of her designated singing spots.
She chewed on her bottom lip, glancing between the coupon and the map. It wouldn’t be out of the way. She could go there without making a big deal out of it.
Her chest tightened at the thought. It was ridiculous. She didn’t even know what this girl looked like. What were the odds she’d even be there? And if she was there, would she know Mika? Would Mika know her? The uncertainty made her stomach twist, but so did the idea of doing nothing.
She sat back on her bed, the coupon held loosely between her fingers. It wasn’t like she’d committed to anything by finding it. She could stay home, stick to her usual route, and forget all about this... this clue. But as she thought about it, she realised she didn’t want to forget.
The idea of going to Adams’ House wasn’t just about the notebook or the girl who’d left it. It was about doing something—anything—that felt less like treading water and more like swimming toward something.
Still, doubt whispered in her mind. What if you’re just setting yourself up to feel worse? What if she isn’t what you think?
Mika sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t have to decide now. Adams’ House was just a block away. If she went carolling, she could decide when she got there. It wasn’t a commitment. Just... a possibility.
Her fingers tightened on the coupon, a small spark of determination lighting in her chest. She folded it neatly and tucked it into her jacket pocket. “We’ll see,” she murmured to herself, standing and brushing her hands on her jeans.
But deep down, she already knew. She was going.
Mika pushed open the door to the pizza parlour, the little bell jingling overhead. The warmth of the place hit her instantly, the smell of tomato sauce and melted cheese wrapping around her like a comforting hug. She glanced around, trying not to look too out of place. Her fingers gripping the notebook tightly.
Sliding her eyes to the menu mounted on the wall, she spotted it—a location scrawled in small letters beneath the special of the day. The location on the menu. That’s what Notebook Girl had written.
(Go to the location on the menu, and put the notebook next to the most depressing Christmas movie you can find.)
Mika exhaled through her nose, tucking the notebook under her arm. The instructions were bizarre but clear. She had no idea what she was doing—following this scavenger hunt felt equal parts thrilling and utterly absurd.
She made her way to the small DVD shelf tucked against the far wall. It was packed with random titles, most of them cheesy holiday films. Her eyes scanned the spines, landing on one that made her pause. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.
Sliding the notebook onto the shelf, she adjusted it so it was leaning perfectly against the DVD. Stepping back, she glanced at it one last time before walking to the door.
Your move, Mystery Girl, Mika thought, her lips tugging into a small, self-satisfied smile.
She pushed the door open and stepped out, feeling a mix of accomplishment and nerves bubbling in her chest. Had she done it right? Would Notebook Girl find it?
She was halfway down the block when she felt it—a light touch on her shoulder. Mika froze, her breath catching. She turned slowly, heart hammering in her chest.
A boy stood there, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Wait,” he said, his tone warm and amused. “You’re Notebook Girl.”
Mika blinked at him, caught completely off guard.
Notebook Girl? Mika replayed the boy’s words in her mind as she walked away, her pulse racing. Did he actually think she was the one behind this? Or was he someone Notebook Girl sent to track her down?
The idea of being seen—really seen—left her feeling vulnerable. She’d imagined this whole exchange happening on her terms, not like this. Not with some stranger connecting dots she wasn’t even sure she wanted connected yet.
Her mind swirled with questions. Who was this guy? How was he involved? And why did a part of her feel both excited and terrified at the thought that Notebook Girl might know she’d been here?
As Mika walked, she couldn’t shake the image of the boy’s confident grin. What if he told her? What if Notebook Girl was disappointed? What if—
She stopped herself. No. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
Mika sat in a booth near the window; the boy from earlier approached her with a casual ease, sliding into the seat across from her without asking.
“She wanted you to spy on me?” Mika said, her voice a mix of irritation and disbelief.
The boy grinned. “I believe the word used was... sting operation.”
Mika sighed, leaning back. “You can’t tell her you saw me,” she said firmly.
“Why not?”
“Because…” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t want her to know who I am. Not yet.”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “But don’t you want to meet her?”
Mika looked down at the red notebook resting on the table between them. She traced the edges with her finger. “No. Not yet. I don’t know. I want to get to know her, but it… it’s just easier in there.” She nodded toward the notebook, her voice softening. “It feels safer.”
The boy leaned back, studying her for a moment. Then he gestured toward the notebook. “Yeah, okay. There’s just something I don’t understand.”
“What?”
He grinned, his expression teasing. “Weren’t you supposed to put this next to a depressing Christmas movie? What’s depressing about Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer?”
Mika blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, it’s catchy, sure. But depressing? Really?”
Mika leaned forward, a mock-serious expression on her face. “First of all, reindeer are herbivores. They would never hurt anyone. It was probably the grandma’s fault.”
The boy nodded solemnly. “So what you’re saying is… it’s depressing because it’s all on the grandma.”
“Exactly,” Mika said, her lips twitching into a smile.
They both burst out laughing, the sound cutting through the tension Mika hadn’t realised she was holding. For the first time all evening, she felt lighter—like maybe this whole situation didn’t have to be so daunting.
Mika tilted her head, staring at the boy across the table. “What’s she like, your friend?”
The boy’s playful grin softened, and he hesitated for a moment before answering. “I don’t think she’d want me to answer that question.”
Mika frowned, leaning forward. “Is she… snarly?”
The boy laughed quietly, shaking his head. “My aunt uses the word… finicky.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “She’s, uh… she’s complicated. All right? I mean, she has a lot of walls. She’s pretty closed off. But once she lets you in, she’s the most loyal friend you could have. Trust me.”
Mika stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Can I? Trust you?”
The boy’s smile returned, though this time it was softer, reassuring. “I mean, you did come during the lunch rush. It can get super busy, right? So it’s totally possible that, I don’t know, you just dropped off the notebook and I never saw you.”
“You would do that for me?” Mika asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
“And for her,” he said without hesitation.
“Why?” Mika asked, her brow furrowing.
“Because you’re not Benson,” he replied with a cryptic smile. “But look, you’ve got to at least give her something, or she’ll never forgive me. Can’t you at least tell her your name?”
Mika crossed her arms, her lips pursed. “No,” she said firmly, her voice rising just a little. “She tried to trick me.”
The boy raised his hands in mock surrender, a small laugh escaping. “Unless…” Mika’s expression shifted into something more mischievous, her tone lighter now. “Your friend hates Christmas, right?”
“Yeah,” the boy confirmed, eyeing her cautiously.
Mika’s smile grew wider, practically gleaming. “If she wants my name, she’s going to have to earn it.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a pen, flipping the red notebook open to a fresh page.
The boy tilted his head, watching her scribble something quickly with a flourish. “What are you doing?”
Mika capped the pen with a decisive click and snapped the notebook shut. “She’s going to have to ask Santa.”
Jules let out an exaggerated groan as she glanced at the crowd around her in Macy’s. “This girl wants me to suffer,” she said, clutching the notebook like it was a list of unreasonable demands.
Lucas, standing beside her with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, arched an eyebrow. “Look, or maybe she just wants you to... I don’t know, find the holiday spirit.”
Jules barked out a laugh, quick and sharp. “No, no. I think I know her a little bit better than you do, Lucas.” She held up the notebook as if to emphasise her point. “This is not about holiday spirit. It’s about proving she’s clever and I’m not. It’s a trap.”
Lucas rolled his eyes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just be nice to Santa, please. Is that really so hard?”
Jules sighed and shook her head as she made her way toward the line for Santa. The place was teeming with kids and frazzled parents, the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air. She flipped open the notebook and began reading the latest instructions.
Your mission, if you’re brave enough to accept it, I dare you to ask Santa for my name. If you’ve been a good girl this year, you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if you want to get past Santa’s guard, you might have to get naughty.
Jules snorted softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.
She stepped forward, only to be stopped by an elf in full costume—a green felt tunic and striped tights—blocking her path.
“Whoa there,” the elf said, holding up a hand. “Children only past this point.”
“What?” Jules asked, incredulous. “Why?”
“Because this is Santa’s Village, and it’s for kids,” the elf replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
Jules planted her hands on her hips. “That’s discriminatory toward adults. I have just as much right to see Santa as any five-year-old.”
The elf’s expression didn’t budge. “Rules are rules.”
“Well, your rules are ridiculous,” Jules shot back. “What if I just sneak past?”
“Then I call security,” the elf said, unfazed. “And trust me, Santa’s elves don’t mess around.”
Jules opened her mouth to argue again when Lucas suddenly appeared at her side, grinning as though he’d just stumbled into an old friend. “Wait a second,” he said, pointing at the elf. “Do I know you? You were in that one show, weren’t you? The one with the murderer? You were the victim!”
The elf blinked, momentarily thrown off guard. “Uh... yeah, that was me.”
Lucas snapped his fingers in mock recognition. “I knew it! Man, you were great in that. What was it, like, three years ago? You’ve really got that whole ‘dead look’ down.”
As Lucas continued to gush over the elf’s supposed acting career, Jules took the opportunity to slip past them and into Santa’s Village. She smiled to herself, grateful for Lucas’s knack for smooth distractions.
Jules scanned the crowded Santa’s Village with growing impatience. The line stretched with wiggling kids and exhausted parents, but she wasn’t here for sugarplum dreams or seasonal cheer. She spotted a little girl clutching a candy cane near the front and crouched down, giving her most apologetic smile.
“Hey, sorry, emergency,” Jules said, easing the girl aside before stepping toward Santa’s chair.
Santa’s booming laughter echoed across the room. “Ho, ho, ho! We’ve got a big one! But as I like to say, You’re never too old for Santa.”
Jules groaned internally, clutching the notebook in her hand. Show him the notebook to collect your reward, the girl’s voice narrated from her memory.
“No, no, God no,” Jules said, shaking her head and holding up the red notebook. “I’m not here for that. I was sent by…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the notebook.
Santa leaned forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Aaah, our mutual friend,” he said knowingly.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jules replied, straightening up. “So, do you have something for me?”
Santa tapped the side of his head. “Right up here.”
Jules frowned. “In your head?”
Santa chuckled, reaching up to tap his hat. “In my hat.”
She let out a sigh of relief, about to reach for it, but Santa gestured toward his lap. “But first, have a seat.”
Her eyes widened. “I’m in kind of a rush—”
“Sit,” Santa insisted firmly, patting his knee.
Behind her, a parent muttered something annoyed about grown-ups cutting in line. Feeling the pressure of the watching crowd, Jules reluctantly sat down on his lap, her whole body stiff as a board.
“What?” she asked, her voice low and sharp. “Do you want my Christmas list?”
Santa leaned in and wrapped her in an overly familiar hug, holding her tightly. “I want to give you a warning,” he said, his voice taking on a serious edge. “Our mutual friend happens to be very important to me, and I don’t want her dating some snarky, stuck-up smart-ass.”
Jules froze, her jaw tightening. “God, just give me the hat,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
Santa tightened his grip. “Promise me you won’t hurt her.”
“You’re hurting me!” Jules hissed, squirming.
The crowd gasped in unison, parents clutching their children and kids staring wide-eyed.
“Promise me,” Santa repeated, his tone unwavering.
Jules let out a frustrated breath. “If you don’t give me the hat, I’m going to tell all these nice children you smell like bourbon.”
Santa’s brows shot up. “I’ve been six years sober, you arsehole!”
“Congrats,” Jules said flatly. “Now give me the hat.”
The elf from earlier suddenly appeared at her side, tugging on her arm. “Ma’am, I need you to leave quietly.”
Jules threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” She stood up slowly, but as she turned to leave, she snatched Santa’s hat off his head and bolted.
“Hey!” Santa shouted, jumping to his feet.
Jules weaved through the crowd, clutching the hat tightly. She crashed into a towering display of Christmas decorations, sending ornaments and tinsel flying. Gasps and laughter erupted behind her, but she didn’t stop.
She had what she needed—and she wasn’t sticking around to explain herself.
As Jules bolted through the holiday chaos, her thoughts raced faster than her feet. This girl is ruining my life, she thought, clutching the Santa hat tightly. First the scavenger hunt, now I’m a fugitive in a department store. All this for some mysterious notebook romance? Sorry, potential romance?
Behind her, the sound of jingling bells and hurried footsteps grew louder. She glanced back to see the elf chasing her with surprising determination. “Ma’am! You cannot take Santa’s hat!”
“Santa didn’t seem to need it!” Jules shouted over her shoulder, dodging a child holding a stuffed reindeer. Her pulse pounded as she reached the edge of the store, where a moment of freedom seemed within reach.
But as she neared the exit, her stomach dropped. A towering security guard stood waiting, arms crossed and unimpressed.
Jules skidded to a stop, looking around frantically for an escape. Her eyes landed on an oversized decorative candy cane leaning against a nearby wall. She grabbed it, gripping it like a makeshift weapon.
“Let me leave with this hat, and nobody has to get hurt,” she said, brandishing the candy cane in the most intimidating way she could manage.
The guard raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward, but before Jules could figure out her next move, something slammed into her from the side.
“Oof!” Jules hit the ground hard, the Santa hat flying out of her grasp. A smaller figure pinned her to the floor—another elf.
“Gotcha!” the elf declared triumphantly, her jingling costume adding insult to injury.
Jules groaned, her cheek pressed against the cold tile floor. I’m going to die here. In Macy’s. At the hands of Santa’s minions.
As the security guard loomed closer, she closed her eyes in exasperation. This girl better be worth it.
As Jules was escorted out of the store, she kept her head down and her coat held tightly around her, concealing the prized Santa hat. The elf from earlier marched beside her with righteous indignation, muttering something about “holiday vandals,” but Jules tuned him out.
So, Mystery Girl, do you feel the holiday spirit?
Jules bit back a smirk. I feel humiliated, maybe. But also... yeah, okay, a little exhilarated.
Lucas appeared out of nowhere, his arms loaded with shopping bags. “You’re actually smiling!” he said, staring at her in mock disbelief. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”
Jules rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her. “Well, I did get a present from Santa,” she said, tapping her bag where the hat was hidden.
Lucas laughed. “You had fun.”
“If you tell anyone, I will deny it,” Jules said quickly, narrowing her eyes.
Lucas held up one of his bags with a flourish. “Well, I got a present, too. That elf? Turns out he’s actually cool. Look!” He pulled out a glossy autograph, complete with a cheerful note. “He was in Criminal Minds. I can’t believe I didn’t recognise him right away.”
Jules shook her head in disbelief. “Of course you managed to bond with the elf who tried to have me arrested.”
Lucas shrugged. “That’s just my charm.”
Jules’s smile softened, and she nodded. “Her name is Mika.”
Lucas tilted his head. “I like that name.”
“Me too,” Jules said, her voice quieter but her smile impossibly wide.
Jules hesitated for a moment, then looked at Lucas with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I need a favor. Because I can never, ever go back into that store.”
Lucas laughed. “Of course.”
Mika sat on the cold steps outside her family’s apartment building, her breath puffing in little clouds as she rubbed her hands together for warmth. Her foot tapped restlessly against the ground, her nerves buzzing with anticipation. She looked down at her phone, glancing at the time, and leaned forward, squinting down the sidewalk.
Suddenly, she heard it—a booming, familiar “Ho, ho, ho!” echoing down the street.
She sat upright, her confusion quickly giving way to realization. “Uncle Steve!” she called out, a grin breaking across her face as she spotted him in full Santa get-up, complete with a slightly crooked hat and a sack slung over his shoulder.
Uncle Steve sauntered over, his boots crunching against the snow. “Hey there, kiddo,” he greeted with a hearty chuckle.
Mika sprang up and hurried over to him. “Do you have something for me?” she asked eagerly, practically bouncing in place.
Steve dropped the sack onto the bench and began rummaging through it. “Yeah, yeah, hold on,” he muttered, his tone gruff but fond. After a moment, he pulled out the red notebook and handed it to her. “She showed up at the end of my shift, you know. Brought me a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.”
Steve pointed a stern finger at her, his expression serious. “I don’t like that girl, Mika. I don’t think your grandfather would either.”
Mika let out a laugh. “Grandpa is in Florida,” she reminded him.
“That’s not the point,” he grumbled, adjusting his Santa hat. “I’m just looking out for you, okay?” He softened slightly, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, kid.”
Mika smiled and hugged him tightly. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Steve.”
She watched as he turned and trudged back down the street, his Santa sack slung over one shoulder. With a sigh, she clutched the package to her chest and made her way upstairs to the apartment. Her thoughts were spinning as she wondered what kind of girl would go out of her way to bring cookies to a grumpy Santa after a long day.
Mika paced back and forth in her bedroom, her hands gripping the edges of the red notebook as she read the words over and over again. Her heart pounded in her chest, her head filled with a swirl of thoughts, none of them making any sense.
Dear Mika... you win.
The words echoed in her mind, and she tried to focus on the rest of the letter, but her thoughts kept drifting back to that one phrase—you win.
Her eyes skimmed over the rest of the message.
No sting operations. No last names. No social media stalking. No pressure to meet. Personal questions are fair game, but they have to be earned with a dare. So, Mika, tell me.
What do you want for Christmas?
She rubbed her thumb over the paper, trying to hold onto the fleeting excitement and anxiety that came with this strange connection. But as she finished reading, her gaze fell back to the words, What do you want for Christmas? and it made her heart lurch.
What do I want for Christmas?
She didn’t have a clear answer. There was so much she wanted, but nothing that could be easily put into words. She wanted to understand who this person was. She wanted to know her name, to know what made her tick. She wanted to find out if they could even have something real or if this was just another fleeting connection that would fizzle out before she could even begin to understand it.
Mika stopped pacing, feeling the weight of the silence in the room, the uncertainty that hung in the air. Her phone buzzed, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was her music playlist that had finished, now starting up again with "Fairytale of New York," the familiar song filling the space around her.
She clicked the volume up on her phone, letting the familiar warmth of the music fill the room, drowning out her swirling thoughts. The song, somehow, calmed her—a reminder that Christmas didn’t have to be perfect, didn’t have to fit anyone else’s ideas.
But her mind kept circling back to the notebook. The girl.
She still didn’t know her name. She didn’t know who she was. Was it better this way, to keep her mysterious? To keep her an enigma in these little notes? The notebook girl had agreed to her rules, but in some ways, that only made things more complicated.
What did she really want from Christmas? Mika didn’t have the answer, not yet. But she knew one thing—she wanted to keep the conversation going. She wanted to keep the game alive, because there was something in these words, in these letters, that made her feel less alone in a world that sometimes felt like it was pushing her to be something she wasn’t.
Mika and Jules sat in their respective rooms, the Christmas season drawing them closer in ways neither could have predicted, each woman unknowingly wrapped in the same song.
Mika, half lying, half sitting on her bed, her red notebook still pressed against her chest, let the quiet hum of the holiday season fill her room. The soft glow from the streetlights on her walls and the world beyond her window felt still and peaceful. The only sound in the room was the distant echo of Fairytale of New York from her phone, drifting through the air. Without thinking, she began to hum along to the melody. Her voice, soft and slightly off-key, filled the silence as her smile widened, unbothered by any imperfections. The lyrics spoke to her in a way she didn’t expect, the rhythm making her feel connected to something—someone—else out there in the world.
She sang it softly, a gentle exhale of joy and wonder. Her mind wandered as the song played, imagining a scene from the lyrics, the holiday cheer, the laughter, and the warmth that seemed so distant yet within her reach. She thought about the girl behind the notebook—about how she must be feeling, if she was maybe thinking of her too. Her heart gave a flutter at the thought. What if they were connected in a way that felt as simple as the music, as easy as sharing a song? Mika's fingers danced over the pages of the notebook, her smile widening as she imagined what might be next. What if the girl—whoever she was—was out there somewhere, humming along to the same tune?
At the same moment, across the city, Jules was curled up in her room, the Christmas hat from Santa resting on her bed. She had just turned off the radio after hearing the first few notes of Fairytale of New York, but something tugged at her, pulling her back to the song. Without really thinking, she turned the volume back up, letting the song flow through her room. She lay back on her bed, letting her mind wander, her gaze flicking to the ceiling. Her thoughts, too, drifted back to the girl from the notebook—the mystery, the dare, the challenge. She wasn’t quite ready to meet her, but there was something comforting about the game they’d started.
Jules smiled, her voice quiet but genuine as she sang along with the lyrics, feeling the joy of it. It was like something warm, something unexpected, filled the room—maybe even her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself relax, imagining how easy it would be to keep singing, to keep playing this little game with the girl she had yet to meet. Maybe they weren’t so different after all. Maybe, just maybe, they were both waiting for something, or someone, to make the season feel a little more alive.
And there they were, in two separate rooms, the same song playing in the background, each woman thinking of the other without knowing it. Their voices, though miles apart, were united in that moment, sharing in the music, the lyrics, and the quiet hope that Christmas might just be the start of something more. The kind of something that could begin with a notebook, a dare, and a song.
“Sinatra was swinging
All the drunks, they were singing.
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night.
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing Galway Bay.
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day"