Chapter 1

The air bit at my cheeks, sharp and biting, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts, pine needles, and the sweet, heavy perfume of mulled wine. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, the kind that made you huddle deeper into your coat, but I hadn’t huddled. I had walked straight into the heart of the chaos, my heels clicking rhythmically against the cobblestones, a metronome counting down the seconds until I found him. The outdoor Christmas market in Vienna was a sensory assault, designed to melt your resistance with nostalgia. Wooden stalls, rough-hewn and dark with age, lined the narrow pathways, draped in fairy lights that blinked in a slow, hypnotic rhythm against the twilight sky. Above us, the strings of bulbs crisscrossed like a electric web, casting a golden, hazy glow over the crowds of tourists and locals alike. I stopped at the edge of the main square, letting my eyes adjust to the shifting shadows. The noise was a dull roar—laughter, clinking glasses, the distant jingle of sleigh bells, the low murmur of a hundred conversations blending into a singular hum of holiday cheer. I could smell the cinnamon sticks steeping in copper mugs,