She didn't let me go back to sleep. Not that I was complaining.

Somehow, after all her chatter and interruptions, we ended up having breakfast together. She'd taken over the kitchen—again—and somehow managed to make something that looked like it belonged in a fancy café rather than in my apartment. French toast stacked neatly with whipped cream and strawberries, a drizzle of honey, and a mug of hot chocolate with cinnamon on top.

Typical Val. Even her "simple breakfasts" came with presentation.

It was peaceful, quiet except for the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of the morning. For a second, I thought maybe—just maybe—we were going to have a normal day. But this was Val. There was always a mix of love and chaos baked into everything she did.

She swallowed a bite and leaned forward, fork in hand.

"So, husband," she began, with that faux-serious tone that always meant trouble, "why are there no decorations?"

I blinked, halfway through a sip of my drink. "Uh?"

She gestured around with her fork, as if the crime scene was obvious. "It's Christmas in a few days. Where are the lights? The tree? The festive spirit?"

I set my mug down. "Well, I just thought it'd be easier if we arranged everything together."

Her brows lifted, eyes glinting with interest. "Oh? You thought that, huh?"

I nodded, hiding a small smile. "Mostly because I figured whatever idea you had would end up better than mine. And also because… I know you probably already have a plan."

She grinned, sitting back with a dramatic little sigh. "I actually do have a plan."

Of course she did. I could already feel my wallet flinching in anticipation.

She leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "So, here's what I was thinking. We start with the living room—obviously, it needs to feel like a Christmas fairytale. I'm talking warm lights, ribbons, maybe even a real pine tree. None of that plastic nonsense you used last year."

"Hey," I said, pretending to sound offended, "that 'plastic nonsense' was convenient and easy to clean."

She ignored that completely. "Then we put up stockings—matching ones, with our initials. I already saw some online that would look perfect. Duchess gets one too, of course."

"Of course," I muttered.

"And then," she continued, waving her fork for emphasis, "we bake. Gingerbread cookies, maybe a small cake. We'll make a mess, obviously—"

I snorted. "No surprise there."

"—but it'll be fun," she finished, smiling as if she could already see it. "Then in the evening, we can do the tree. I'll handle the lights, you'll handle the ornaments. You have the taller advantage."

I took a bite of the French toast, trying to sound casual. "Isn't that a bit too much? It's not like it's our first Christmas together."

She narrowed her eyes at me playfully. "Yes, but that doesn't mean it should be boring. You only get one Christmas at a time, Kai. Make it count."

I couldn't argue with that logic, not when she looked at me with that mixture of excitement and sincerity that made everything she said sound like a promise.

"Of course you'd put it that way," I murmured, shaking my head.

She smiled, that soft kind of smile that always reached her eyes. "I'm right, and you know it."

"Never said you weren't."

She grinned wider. "Good. Then hurry up and finish eating so we can go get everything we need."

I arched an eyebrow. "Now?"

"Obviously," she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "The stores will get crowded later. Besides, I want the house to look perfect before evening."

I leaned back in my chair, half amused, half resigned. "You've already planned every detail in your head, haven't you?"

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

> "Okay, fine. I definitely have."

I chuckled, pushing my plate away. "And here I thought today would be quiet."

She reached across the table, catching my hand with hers, her thumb brushing lazily across my knuckles. "Quiet's overrated. You have me instead."

She said it so casually that I couldn't even argue. And honestly? She was right.

It was chaos, yes—but it was our chaos. And I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

---

It turned out Val wasn't exaggerating, the stores were packed.

By the time we found parking, the lot looked like a war zone. Trolleys everywhere, children running, parents arguing about who forgot the list. I could already feel my patience thinning, but Val? She looked like she was stepping into Disneyland.

"Look at that," she said, eyes glimmering as we entered the first store. "People everywhere, rushing around, panicking over decorations. Isn't it magical?"

"Magical's one word for it," I muttered, grabbing a trolley. "Chaotic's another."

She ignored the comment completely, already tugging me toward the aisles.

The next hour was an exercise in endurance. She had us bouncing between ornaments, ribbons, lights, and even scented candles because, according to her, Christmas had to smell like joy. I didn't even know what that meant, but she looked so animated explaining it that I didn't have the heart to ask.

By the time we got to the checkout line, our cart looked like it belonged to an entire family of five.

She stood beside me, arms folded, sighing dramatically every two minutes as the line crawled forward.

The line was impossibly long, the kind that made you question if Christmas shopping was worth it at all. Val shifted beside me, arms crossed, glaring at the checkout counter like she could will it to move faster.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered under her breath. "We've been standing here for ages. At this rate, Santa's going to retire before we get to the front."

I smirked. "You're the one who said we needed every single shiny ornament in the store."

She turned to me with a flat stare. "Don't start."

Then, like a switch flipped, she sighed loudly and leaned forward, tapping the woman in front of her.

"Excuse me," she said softly, coughing once into her sleeve. "Sorry. It's… it's just hard to stand this long lately."

The woman turned, immediately concerned. "Oh dear, are you alright?"

Val gave a tiny, pitiful smile — award-winning, really. "I'm okay. Just… you know, trying to make the most of things. The doctors said this might be my last Christmas."

The woman's eyes widened. "Oh my goodness."

"Yeah," Val whispered dramatically, resting her hand on my arm. "Just want to spend whatever time I have left with my husband." She made sure to flash the ring as she said it.

The woman gasped. "Oh, you poor thing! Go ahead, sweetheart, you can take my spot."

Before I could react, the man behind us frowned. "Hey, what gives? We've all been waiting here—"

"She's sick!" the woman snapped at him, her tone sharp enough to slice through the noise. "This might be her last Christmas! Have some decency!"

The man's face fell instantly. "Oh— I didn't know. My bad." He turned to the others. "Hey, everyone, let them through. The lady's sick!"

And just like that, a small path cleared for us, an aisle of pity and misplaced compassion.

Val placed a hand over her chest and gave a trembling smile to the crowd. "Bless your hearts," she said softly. "You're all such good people."

I was dying inside — not from pity, but from trying so hard not to laugh.

When the cashier finally waved us over, I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or concerned for humanity. Val, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered as she flashed the cashier a winning smile and handed over the card.

The cashier noticed the ring on her finger, blinked, and smiled. "You two are adorable."

Val leaned her elbow on the counter, flashing me a grin. "Aren't we?"

I rolled my eyes, but she winked.

Val kept her act going right up until we left the store, complete with a delicate cough and a weak little wave to her "supporters."

By the time we loaded everything into the SUV and finally escaped the madness, I was seconds away from collapsing.

She buckled herself in, still smiling like she'd just won something.

And then I burst out laughing. I tried to hold it in, but it just came out. Loud and uncontrollable.

She looked at me, pretending to be offended. "What?"

"You," I managed between laughs. "really are something."

Her lips curved into a smug little smile. "Thank you."

"It's not a compliment."

"I'll take it however I want," she replied sweetly.

I shook my head, still grinning. "For a second there, I thought you'd pull the Moreau card to get out of line."

She snorted, leaning back. "Where's the fun in that? Anyone can flash a name. But a good performance?" She gestured to herself. "That's art."

I glanced at her, shaking my head again. "You're unbelievable."

"Unbelievably lovable," she corrected.

"Unbelievably dramatic," I countered.

She laughed, her eyes catching the faint light through the windshield. "Same thing, husband."

I smiled, still shaking my head as I started the car. Only Val could turn Christmas shopping into a theatrical event — and somehow, make me love her even more for it.

As we pulled out of the lot, she leaned her head against the window, humming a soft tune, something slow and almost nostalgic. The road stretched ahead, quiet for once, and I found myself glancing at her again.

That's the thing about Val.

She could drive me crazy, embarrass me in public, make me question my sanity, and still, somehow, make every moment feel like it was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Yeah. She was chaos.

But she was my chaos.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

---

To be continued...

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