Under a sky heavy with stars, the house stood calm and watchful.
The warmth inside wrapped around every corner, while the quiet of the night carried a sense of expectation rather than sleep. Outside, the streets were empty, as if the world had agreed to step aside for something special. Inside, small details mattered most, the glow of the tree, the careful stillness of the room, the feeling that something kind was approaching.
As the hours slipped by, hearts softened and thoughts grew hopeful. This was a night for believing without needing proof, for trusting in small miracles.
It was the night before Christmas, when anticipation feels sweeter than the morning itself.
id: cebolinhayuu