Snow fell softly over Edinburgh that Christmas Eve, wrapping the old city in a quiet silver glow. Inside a sleek apartment overlooking the castle, Matthias Kerr stood before a grand fir tree that glittered with gold lights and crystal ornaments. Everything looked perfect, yet the silence pressed in on him. He had fortune, recognition, a company that spanned continents but not a single person to share the night with.
He lifted a glass of scotch, stared at his reflection in the window, and felt the weight of a life that had everything except warmth.
The sound of small footsteps broke the stillness. His housekeeper, Ana Morales, appeared at the door in her winter coat. Her six-year-old daughter, Lucia, followed close behind, clutching a paper snowman made from torn magazine pages.
“We’re heading home, Mr. Kerr,” Ana said gently. “Merry Christmas.”
Lucia tilted her head. “Mister, why are you spending Christmas all by yourself?”
Ana’s face went pale. “Lucia!”
But Matthias didn’t scold her. The question hung in the air, honest and unfiltered, slicing through his practiced composure.
Ana hesitated. “Sir, we’re having a small dinner tonight, just family, laughter, and food we probably overcooked. If you’d like to join us, you’d be welcome.”
Matthias gave a faint smile. “That’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
Lucia grinned. “You can sit next to me. We have too much pudding.”
Ana laughed nervously and led her daughter to the door. “Number twelve on Glenwood Street. The house with the crooked angel,” she said before stepping out into the snow.
The door clicked shut. Silence returned.
Matthias poured another drink, then set it down untouched. The tree’s reflection shimmered across the glass, mocking him with its perfection. No one should be alone on Christmas. The child’s words echoed until he couldn’t bear the quiet any longer.
At 8:45, he grabbed his coat.
At 9:10, he stood before a small brick house at the end of Glenwood Street. Golden light spilled through the windows, and faint music drifted into the cold. Before he could knock, the door swung open.
Ana froze in surprise. “Mr. Kerr…”
He gave an uncertain smile. “I hope I’m not too late.”
Her face softened. “You’re right on time.”
Inside, the warmth hit him like sunlight. The living room was cluttered but alive—garlands made of old ribbons, paper stars hanging unevenly, the smell of roast chicken filling the air. Lucia’s laughter echoed as relatives chatted over one another.
Someone pushed a chair toward him. “Sit, lad! There’s plenty.”
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