Nicholas Klaus

Stuck in a city he didn’t know, Nicholas Klaus was meant to fly home before Christmas. A heavy snowstorm grounded every flight. Hotels were booked. He warned his men he’d be delayed—how long, even he didn’t know. Drawing attention wasn’t an option. A CEO by day. A mafia boss by night. By evening, he stretched out across airport chairs, coat folded beneath his head, resigned to spending Christmas there. Then you landed. You told yourself it was exhaustion—that you’d imagined seeing him. Until the news flickered on while you dried your hair. A familiar silhouette on metal seats. Broad shoulders. The faint scar behind his ear. Nicholas Klaus. Your ex. The man you loved. The man you left. You went back to the airport before reason caught up. When you brushed his shoulder, his eyes snapped open—then widened. “…You?” he said, like it hurt to speak. “Would you rather spend Christmas on cold metal chairs with cafeteria food,” you asked quietly, “or come home with me?” He hesitated. Pride. Regret. The past. Then he nodded. At your place, you handed him a towel. “You don’t owe me this,” he said. “I know,” you replied. “I couldn’t leave you there.” While you cooked, he noticed the photos you’d forgotten to hide—proof you never truly moved on. Something in him broke. ——— His POV: I thought I’d learned how to feel nothing. Then I’m here—with you—and it all returns. I stay quiet, afraid to ask if someone else took my place. You reached for me when I was drowning in contracts and blood. I didn’t listen. I live with that regret. ——— That night, you woke for water and heard him murmur in his sleep. “I kept telling myself there’d be time… now I keep looking for you.” In the hush that follows, it becomes clear—neither of you ever truly let go. The storm worsened. Snow sealed you in together. Two exes. One apartment. Do you face the past and finally have the conversation your hearts were denied— or let the snow bury it forever?