“They liked it a lot,” Ryeowook informs Chihiro as he takes off his boots.

“Liked what?” It takes her a while to readjust, but she quickly grasps his sleeve. She is genuinely happy to see him.

“Your soup,” he elaborates, looking surprised. He chuckles. “They thought I made it at first.”

“I’m glad,” she says quietly. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Ryeowook seems to catch her tone and doesn’t know how to respond. Giving her shoulder a small squeeze, he directs her back to the kitchen. “Shall we have dinner now? It’s about the time.”

“Your brownies just finished,” Chihiro adds, a bit unnecessarily, as they reach the familiar room. “They smell really nice.”

“Makes a sweet way to end Christmas, don’t you think?” he laughs.

They sit down to dinner. Along with her soup, they have also prepared side dishes and drinks; though the selection and arrangement are simple, the atmosphere is tinged with warmth. A cozy Christmas dinner for two.

Throughout the meal, they recap their year.

“Starting with February, all the way until now,” she says, “it’s been really fun.”

He nods, seeming to remember the beginning of their friendship. “It’s almost been too perfect,” he agrees.

The two then smile at the inside joke.

“Back then, I didn’t know you were also into cooking,” Chihiro sighs contentedly. “I thought I was all alone.”

“It’s because I had heard you talking about it,” Ryeowook reminds her. “In this day and age, not many girls want to learn how to cook anymore.”

“It’s hard to find people who share your interest and passions…”

The phone rings again. Chihiro excuses herself to answer it, while Ryeowook gets up to clear the dishes.

Her eyes widen at the caller ID.

“Merry Christmas,” Sungmin’s voice says through the handset after she answers. “I sent you a letter.”

“Hey,” Chihiro says breathlessly, “long time no talk!”

“Yeah.” There is a pause while Chihiro opens the door to run outside. Sure enough, there is a small package sitting in her mailbox.

“Even though we haven’t spoken to each other for almost a year, I still try to uphold tradition. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.” There is an interesting smile in his voice.

She is already opening the package as she walks back into the house.

“Your style is still improving,” she now says reflectively, as she stares at the enclosed pictures in the envelope. They were stills from videos, she knew. “It gets more and more impressive every time I see it. No joke.”

He chuckles slightly in acknowledgment. “The quality is bad, though. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Chihiro assures him. “I’ve missed seeing these.” Her genuine happiness seeps through her voice, and she wonders if he picks up on it.

At the same time, though, she remembers Ryeowook still waiting for her in the kitchen, and a small part of her inwardly twinges in slight emotional conflict. As much as she has missed Sungmin, now isn’t the best time for him to call.

Briefly, Chihiro wonders for three seconds if she could somehow balance both spending time with Ryeowook while talking to Sungmin on the phone.

“Ah, I remember seeing this,” she suddenly exclaims, as one particular picture catches her eye. Not every photo was from a video still. “Your competition in July, I remember that....”

“Hmm. You still keep track of my competitions?” There is surprise in his voice.

“I don’t check that often,” Chihiro admits. “But occasionally if I find articles detailing them, I browse through a couple. Your name is one of the few I look for,” she says slightly shyly.

“Oh,” he acknowledges.

It’s not going to work. She and Ryeowook were already in the middle of a meal, and as much as she has wanted to hear Sungmin’s voice again, Chihiro knows that they cannot have much to talk about right now.

They have nothing in common to share with each other, after all.

“Well, I’m going to go play piano now,” he says abruptly. “I just wanted to uphold tradition. Hopefully, I’ll actually improve next year.”

She concedes easily, only a tiny bit disappointed at the shortness of the conversation. “Okay.”

But simultaneously, she is relieved. Her problem is solved.

“Bye-bye,” Sungmin says, but right before he hangs up, she has time to say one last thing—

“We each have our own passions now, but I’m glad for this tradition.”

The tradition of him sending her various stills from the videos they took, marking his improvement with each passing year: Their own four-year Christmas tradition.

He makes a noise of agreement. “See you,” he then says dismissively.

“Have fun,” Chihiro concludes, knowing that he is going to play piano with his girlfriend. “And thanks again.”

“No problem,” he states with finality, and then severs the connection.

Chihiro walks back to the kitchen, where Ryeowook is finishing up washing the last of the dishes.

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes ruefully.

“For what?” He dries his hands and then gives her a quizzical look.

She opens to elaborate, glancing from the phone in her hands to the clean bowls and plates drying in the dish rack.

And suddenly, she isn’t sure of what to say.

“Thank you,” she whispers instead.

He gives her a small smile, and in that moment, she knows that he has understood. Because that was how they were: Even without her saying anything, his being would already reflect the emotions that danced across her heart; though at times she couldn’t eloquently express her mind, their thoughts would already be connected in ways that transcended science.

Sungmin was the irreplaceable friend who taught her taekwondo and gave her beautiful memories, but now Ryeowook was the one confidant who knew her feelings and matched her heart.

Walking over to her, he now gently steers her to the living room window.

“It’s going to snow tomorrow,” he whispers quietly, and she looks up at him, surprised. “Where you’re going. You’re traveling north, right? For your conference.

“Weather reports approximate an inch. Not the most one could hope for during this Christmas season, but better than none at all, right?”

Yes, she thinks. It’s better than nothing altogether.

“We may have missed our white Christmas, but there’s still hope for next time.”

She turns back to the window with a renewed gaze. There is no snow yet, but she believes. And in that belief, she has hope.

“The snow was just delayed this year,” she agrees softly, “but it will come.”

Without fail, it will come.