Snowdrifts of Fate
Matthew, a thirty-five-year-old solicitor, dreaded New Years Eve. For him, it wasnt a celebration, but a gauntlet to be endured.
The endless bustle, hunting for the ideal gifts for colleagues he could barely tolerate, and, of course, the dreaded office party. This year, the firm had outdone itself, renting an entire country house in the Cotswolds for the occasion.
Matthew drove there in his pristine black car, a podcast on tax law droning quietly in the background, rehearsing his plan: show up for an hour, nurse a glass of prosecco, share a few polite words with the bosses, and slip away home without a fuss.
By the time he arrived, the country club already resounded like an agitated beehive. Guests in garish jumpers and sequined dresses flitted about, laughter carefully pitched to conjure merriment.
Matthew collected his glass and took up his post by the wall, observing the manufactured revelry with weary detachment. He felt like some misplaced astronaut, stranded on a planet ruled by the edict: be happy on command.
***
That was when he saw her. The unfamiliar woman wasnt flashy or loud. She stood by the tall window, set apart from the swirling party, watching the snowstorm whirling outside.
She wore a simple navy dress and held a glass of apple juice. Yet there was nothing sad or forlorn about her; rather, she seemed lost in her thoughts, but content.
Matthew realized she looked just as he felt.
Not the best weather for heading back, is it? he ventured, stepping closer.
(It was the first thing that came to mind.)
She turned and gave him a genuine, warm smilenothing like the stiff grins worn by the rest.
But isnt it beautiful? she replied, nodding to the scene outside. When the citys blanketed in snow, it almost feels like all the worlds troubles have been tucked away.
Matthew was caught off guard. Hed expected anything but that.
Matthew, he said, introducing himself.
Claire, she replied, shaking his hand. Im from accounts. I think weve passed in the lift a time or two.
They fell quiet, the silence somehow comforting, almost wrapping around them.
Outside, the blizzard worsened. The tannoy crackled, announcing that all roads were shutno one would be driving home tonight.
A collective sigh swept through the room, tinged with anxiety.
Matthew silently cursed. His plan had unravelled.
So, solicitor, ready to rough it on a camp bed tonight? Claire teased with a wry smile.
My profession didnt prepare me for this sort of adventure, he joked. What about you?
I always carry a spare charger and a good book, she replied. Im prepared for any disaster.
And that night, stripped of plans and pretence, they finally talked.
Claire confessed she adored old black-and-white films, while Matthew admitted he couldnt stand them, though he would try one if only shed explain their charm.
Matthew revealed that, in secret, he dreamed of chucking the law to open a little coffee shop somewhere. Claire, in turn, shared that she painted in watercolours, though shed never shown her work to anyone.
They sat together in a quiet corner, oblivious to the party, sipping hot tea from Claires travel flask instead of champagne.
She told stories about her cat, who chased snowflakes across the windowpane, and he reminisced about his grandmother, who taught him to bake honey cake.
As midnight struck, they didnt shout or cheer. They simply looked at each other.
Happy New Year, Matthew, Claire whispered.
Happy New Year, Claire, he replied softly.
That night, rather than sleeping in plush rooms, they shared the small lounge, tucked up on camp beds brought out for those stranded. Side by side, their whispered conversation stretched into the small hours, outlasting the storm.
In the morning, once the ploughs had cleared a path, they stepped outside. The world was white, silent, and gleaming. Sunlight bounced dazzlingly off the untouched snow.
So, where to now? Matthew asked.
I think Ill catch a bus home.
I could give you a lift, if youd like.
Claires eyes sparkled mischievously. But what if I told you I rather love this quiet, frozen world, and want to walk to the stop instead?
Matthew understood. This evening wasnt mere coincidence.
It was the beginning of something real, something new.
Then Ill walk with you, he said, certain now.
Side by side, they made their way out across the fresh drifts, just the two of them, on the very first morning of the new year, leaving a trail in the snow leading towards an unknown, brighter future.
And perhaps thats just what hope looks liketwo people braving the snow together, ready for a new beginning.
