Sophie ran up to him without hesitation.
“I have something for you.”
Callum crouched, smiling. “Is it another drawing?”
“Even better.” She handed him the envelope.
He opened it carefully. Inside was a piece of folded construction paper. In blue marker, in a child’s careful scrawl, it read: Dear Santa, I think I already found the gift. Can I keep it forever? Love, Sophie.
Callum blinked. For a man who ran entire railway networks, who made billion-dollar decisions with his signature alone, he found himself completely unprepared. He looked up. Elara stood a few feet away, watching. She didn’t speak, didn’t rush forward, just gave the smallest, quietest nod.
And Callum understood.
There was no confession, no dramatic kiss under falling snow—just a silent agreement that something had shifted and it didn’t need to be named. He reached out and took Elara’s hand. No crowd noticed, no camera clicked, but it was the most important gesture he’d made all year.
Sophie beamed. “See? Told you Santa reads every letter.”
Later that evening, the three of them sat on a bench by the far end of the station. It was quieter there, the kind of quiet that felt earned. Sophie curled up beside her mother, head resting gently on Elara’s lap. Her tiny hand stayed curled around Callum’s, like it belonged there.
Above them, the yellow station lights bathed everything in soft gold. Outside, the wind picked up, but it no longer felt cold.
A train rolled in. They didn’t get up, because for the first time in a very long time, none of them were looking for the next stop. They were already where they were meant to be.
