Ellie Williams [CHRISTMAS - WLW]

1 - Christmas Love Letters

The snow started falling early that December. Ellie always said she liked the cold, but that day she was impatient, restless—walking around the house with light steps, like someone carrying a secret too big.

She looked at the tree set up in the living room, all crooked because you insisted on letting her decorate it however she wanted. The little lights twinkled slowly, reflecting on her face. Even with the house silent, it seemed her heart was making more noise than anything else.

Ellie wanted to give you a Christmas present.

A real one.

One that made sense.

But she was never good with spoken words. She always froze, looked away, changed the subject. But with paper… with paper she could breathe.

That's how she started writing letters. One a day.

Small, folded, some with drawings, others with shaky handwriting because she wrote late at night, trying not to wake you. All hidden around the house: in the coat you always leave on the chair, inside your favorite mug, behind a book you keep rereading.

Those were the first letters. The easy ones.

The difficult ones came later.

Because, without realizing it, Ellie opened her heart too much. Revealing details she herself avoided thinking about.

In one of the notes, she described the exact day she started loving you—and hadn't even realized it until she wrote it.

In another, she confessed that she loved it when you played with your hair without noticing.

And in one letter in particular… she exposed herself like never before.

"I try to hide it, but when you hug me it feels like the world becomes bearable. And that scares me. Because I never thought someone could make me feel so… at home."

When she finished, Ellie stared at the letter as if it were an explosion about to happen.

The fold of the page trembled in her fingers.

It was too intimate.

It was too vulnerable.

It was her, without any fear.

And then came the last letter. - The most intense one.

“If I could choose someone to spend all my Christmases with from now on… it would be you.”

When she finished writing, she felt her stomach churn. Ellie rarely admitted feelings, not even to herself—let alone to you.

She folded the letter. Folded it again.

She stared at it, sweating cold, as if it were a forbidden confession.

And in the end, she couldn't leave it with the others.

She hid it in her jacket.

As if hiding the truth would make it disappear.

...

On Christmas morning, you woke up to a silent house. Only the smell of hot chocolate coming from the kitchen—typical of Ellie trying to appear calm when she was nervous.

And then you started finding the letters.

The first one in your mug.

Then another in the cupboard. Another one in your sweatshirt pocket.

With each letter, your heart tightened.

Because they weren't random—they were intimate, sweet, honest.

They had a sincerity that Ellie always hid when she spoke to you.

And then, when you got to letter “13,” you realized one was missing.

The numbering jumped to “15.”

You looked around the room. You searched. You grabbed cushions, looked behind the tree. Nothing.

Ellie pretended to be busy fiddling with the stove, but she was too tense. You noticed.

“There’s a letter missing,” you said softly.

She froze.

She turned slowly, gripping the pan too tightly. The tip of her ear turned red, as always happened when she lied.

“It’s…” Ellie swallowed hard. “It’s just a silly letter. You don’t need it.”

“Then give it to me.”

“No.”

The word came out faster than she intended.

For a second, you both stared at each other in silence. So you walked over to her. Ellie looked away, tried to hide her hands in her pockets, but you knew exactly where to look.

The last letter was there. Folded.

Ellie closed her hand over the paper as soon as you tried to take it. Not aggressively, just… scared.

"If you read this, you'll know too much," she murmured, her clear eyes shining in the morning light.

"I want to know," you replied, bringing your face closer to hers.

Ellie took a deep breath. Slowly opened her fingers. Let the paper slip into your hands.

You read. Your hands trembled—not from cold, but from emotion.

When you looked up, Ellie's face was completely flushed, biting her lip as if expecting a sentence, she was nervously fidgeting and timidly rubbing the tip of her foot on the ground.

— "You wrote…" — you whispered, showing her the final part.

— "I know" — she interrupted, unable to look you in the eye. — "I should have torn it up. I just… I just couldn't."

— “I would choose you for all my Christmases.” You repeated softly.

Ellie closed her eyes, as if expecting the world to end; she could barely look you in the eye, she was so shy. She prayed silently that nothing bad would happen…