Chapter 8 - The New Christmas
A year passed, and Christmas arrived once more.
This time, there were no opulent chandeliers, no fake toasts, no underground crime networks, and no fear.
Emily’s cottage was decorated with simple handmade garlands, warm golden lights, and a pine tree she had picked out herself. The air smelled of sweet gingerbread, real pine, and roasted cranberries.
Calder dropped by in the evening, bringing a bottle of fine wine. He was no longer dressed in his tactical coat, but in a simple sweater, smiling warmly as he greeted us.
"How's retirement treating you this time, Thomas?" Calder asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Much better now that the work is truly done," I smiled, looking over at Emily, who was laughing with a few close friends she had invited over.
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"She's doing incredible," Calder remarked quietly. "You should be proud."
"I am," I said. "More than words can say."
