Love under the Mistletoe

Soft sunlight poured into Olivia's apartment, painting the small, book-lined space with a warm glow. Mornings here were always calm, wrapped in the gentle hum of life on the outskirts of Harbor’s End, a cozy seaside town where everyone seemed to know each other. It was a quiet, unassuming place—much like Olivia herself. She sat at her little wooden desk, a steaming cup of chamomile tea within reach, her favorite novel open before her. Her fingers traced the words on the page, savoring each line as if trying to absorb the magic within the text. A chime from her phone interrupted her, breaking the spell. With a sigh, Olivia put down the book and checked her notifications. The library app flashed on her screen, filled with reminders to send out overdue notices for books that had been borrowed weeks ago. She rubbed her temples, feeling the familiar weight of routine settle over her. It was a part of the job she found mundane, yet oddly grounding. Olivia worked at the Harbor’s End Public Library, a modest building nestled by the sea and cherished by the community. The library was her haven, filled with dusty old books and the stories she loved. She had practically grown up there, volunteering as a teenager and eventually landing a full-time job. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but it was hers. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that something was missing. As she glanced around her apartment, her gaze fell on the unfinished manuscript tucked away in a drawer by her desk. Love Under the Mistletoe, her holiday romance story, was her secret project—a fictional love story set during the holidays, filled with snowy nights, stolen glances, and kisses under twinkling lights. Olivia had always dreamed of entering the Holiday Hearts Romance Contest, the annual competition that showcased local writers, but she’d never found the courage to finish her story, let alone submit it. A loud knock on her door made her jump. She quickly closed the drawer, almost as if she’d been caught in the act. Setting her tea aside, she opened the door to find her neighbor, Mrs. Carmichael, a feisty elderly woman with an ever-present pair of knitting needles. Mrs. Carmichael was one of the few people Olivia interacted with regularly outside of work. "Good morning, dear," Mrs. Carmichael greeted her with a warm smile. "I brought you some muffins. Blueberry, your favorite." Olivia's face softened. "Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael. You didn't have to." "Nonsense," the older woman replied, bustling into the apartment with surprising energy. "You've been so busy lately. Thought you could use a little sweetness in your life." Mrs. Carmichael eyed Olivia’s quiet surroundings. "Still reading that same book?" she asked, gesturing to the novel on the desk. "You know, I’d think by now you’d be writing your own." Olivia felt her cheeks warm. "Oh, it's just… I don’t know if anyone would actually want to read anything I write." Mrs. Carmichael let out a soft laugh. "Don’t be silly. You’ve got stories in you, Olivia. Just waiting to be shared." Before Olivia could reply, her phone chimed again, another library notification. She silenced it quickly, feeling a twinge of guilt as she thought about her unfinished manuscript. Mrs. Carmichael didn’t say anything but gave her an encouraging look before heading back to her own apartment. As Olivia tidied up, her mind wandered to her co-workers at the library. There was Charles, the head librarian, who managed the library with the precision of a ship captain. Charles was serious, often grumbling about the library’s budget cuts, yet he had a soft spot for Olivia, treating her almost like a daughter. Then there was Mia, the young intern, always bubbling with ideas and energy, who’d just started her first romance blog. Olivia often envied Mia’s confidence and outgoing nature, wishing she could be just a little bit more like her. Later that morning, Olivia made her way to the library, inhaling the crisp winter air that carried the faint scent of sea salt. The library, nestled just off the main street, looked like something out of a storybook, with ivy creeping up its brick walls and a little bell that chimed whenever someone walked in. Olivia took a deep breath, her fingers tingling with a mix of anticipation and hesitation. As she entered, she found Mia chatting with a tall man near the romance section. He looked slightly out of place, his rugged demeanor contrasting with the quiet charm of the library. He wore a scarf loosely around his neck, and his coat had a light dusting of snow on the shoulders. Olivia hadn't seen him before; she knew most of the regulars by heart. Mia spotted Olivia and waved her over. “Olivia, this is Liam. He’s new in town,” Mia introduced them with a grin. “He’s looking for a good holiday romance recommendation.” Olivia’s heart gave a tiny flutter. “Nice to meet you, Liam,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He turned to her with a warm, friendly smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Olivia. Mia says you’re the resident romance expert," he said, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. Olivia felt her cheeks redden. “Well… I just read a lot,” she managed. She recommended a few titles, feeling self-conscious under his gaze. As Liam browsed the shelves, Olivia retreated to her desk, pretending to focus on work while sneaking glances at him. There was something about his easygoing charm that intrigued her, a contrast to her quiet, predictable life. When he finally picked a book and left, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow seen through her quiet exterior. The rest of her day drifted by in a haze. She thought about Liam, about her unfinished manuscript, and about Mrs. Carmichael’s words. The town’s Holiday Hearts Romance Contest was only a few weeks away. If she wanted to enter, she’d have to start now. Could she really do it? Could she share her words, her stories, with strangers? That night, as she sat in her apartment, she opened the drawer and pulled out her manuscript. She read through the pages, imagining her characters’ love blossoming in snowy streets under festive lights. It was exactly the kind of love story she dreamed of experiencing herself. For a moment, she felt a spark—a sense of courage stirring within her. Just then, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Mia: "Hey! Remember, contest entries are due soon! If anyone can write a great holiday romance, it’s you!" Olivia smiled to herself, her heart pounding with excitement and fear. Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to turn her dreams into reality. She took a deep breath, set her fingers on the keyboard, and began typing. As the words flowed onto the screen, Olivia felt the walls of her quiet life slowly expanding, making space for something new, something beautiful. She had no idea what lay ahead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt alive.