On Our Anniversary, He Lit Fireworks for His First Love

These hands had signed contracts worth hundreds of millions. They'd warmed my feet on countless cold nights.

Now they carried the scent of someone else.

The radiant heating was turned up high, but I still felt cold.

I sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, saying nothing.

Oscar finished folding a dumpling and walked over, a freshly washed gold coin in his hand.

"Dora, look."

He crouched in front of me like he was coaxing a child through a tantrum. "This year, let's hide a coin inside one of the dumplings. Whoever gets it can make a wish—and the other person has to grant it."

"Any wish. I promise."

His gaze was so tender it could drown you.

"I know tonight was hard on you. If you find the coin, I'll take you on a trip around the world. Just the two of us. How does that sound?"

I stared at the gold coin, and something painfully close to hope stirred inside me.

If he was willing to change for me—even just a little...

Ding-dong.

The doorbell.

On New Year's Eve, who would possibly come?

Oscar stood and went to answer it.

The moment the door swung open, a gust of snow carried a small figure stumbling inside.

"Oscar, I—" A sob broke through. "My power went out. It was so dark. I was so scared."

Summer Fox.

She was wearing a thin set of pajamas with a men's coat draped over her shoulders—Oscar's spare trench coat, the one he kept at the office.

Tears streamed down her face like rain on pear blossoms, her whole body trembling as she threw herself straight into Oscar's arms.

He caught her on instinct.

"What happened? Why didn't you call building management?"

"I did. No one answered." She pressed closer. "I couldn't stay there alone. You were the only person I could think of."

Summer lifted her head. Those glistening eyes slid toward me, brimming with a perfect cocktail of defiance and innocence.

"Dora, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I was just so terrified—could I stay for one night? I won't be any trouble. The couch is fine."

Oscar frowned and glanced at me, caught somewhere between reluctance and something softer.

But I already knew. He'd caved.

"Dora, the snow's coming down hard. It really isn't safe for her to be alone. We have plenty of guest rooms. Let her stay one night."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As if he'd already forgotten—minutes ago—that he'd been promising me dumplings and a trip around the globe.

I didn't speak. I just sat there, staring at the plate of uncooked dumplings on the counter.

Oscar settled Summer on the couch, then went to pour her hot water and fetch a blanket. He bustled back and forth, attentive to her every need.

Summer cradled the warm mug in both hands, spotted the dumplings, and lit up. "You made dumplings? I'm starving—could you cook some for me?"

Oscar paused. His eyes flicked to me.

My face gave him nothing.

"Sure. I'll go boil them."

The dumplings came out steaming, filling the room with a rich, savory aroma.

Oscar ladled out two bowls—one for me, one for Summer.

"Dora, eat." He placed the chopsticks beside my hand.

I looked down at my bowl. The plumpest dumpling sat right on top—the one with the gold coin inside.

He remembered which one it was.

And he'd remembered to give it to me.

That, it seemed, was the last scrap of conscience he had left.

I picked up my chopsticks and reached for it.

"Ow!"

A yelp from across the room. Summer's bowl slipped from her hands, dumplings scattering across the floor.

"It's hot—it burns—"

She clutched her hand, tears spilling instantly.

Oscar's expression shifted. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, seizing her hand to examine it.