Chapter 3 #2
Even if I didn’t know all that, I would be absolutely amazed by the beauty of this place.
It’s even more beautiful than what I saw online, and I did look it up plenty!
It’s all marble floors, fancy carpets, high wooden walls, gorgeous chandeliers, and gold accents!
I feel like I’m standing in one of the rooms of Versailles, or, well, what I imagine a very fancy European chateau to be like.
And the Christmas trees are everywhere! I was expecting some low-key, very coordinated Christmas decor that would blend seamlessly in the hotel…
Well, I was wrong. The Christmas trees scattered around the lobby are loud, colorful, and different, nothing basic.
When Nicolas guides me to our room, I can’t help but smile at the fairy lights and vivid green pine branches adorning the beautiful staircase.
I spin around, and finally, I spot it. The mailbox.
It’s a giant brass mailbox that fits seamlessly in the decor and looks quite majestic in the lobby.
While researching this hotel, I read about the beautiful story of this mailbox.
Well, the mailbox itself isn’t extraordinary, but it became famous a few years ago, when a mysterious postcard was found.
A postcard that had been lost since the Second World War!
It was a beautiful one, too, from a soldier asking his lover to wait for him while he was at war…
but they never found the sender or the intended recipient.
I’ve tried looking up more information, but all I found was that part of this story was featured in some very famous K-drama Rosie loves, which I guess explains the influx of Korean tourists taking selfies around it…
But ever since I’ve read about it, I’ve been eager to send a letter from this mailbox too. I already wrote it, and I even bought the stamp. So, when Nicolas gets our room key card, I quietly wait between two sets of tourists taking selfies, and I gingerly put my letter in it.
“Who did you write to, in the end?” he asks me in the elevator. “To Santa?”
“It would be a bit late for Santa,” I chuckle. “No, I wrote to someone who I think might need it, but it’s a secret for now.”
He smiles and nods.
“I see. That’s a great thing to do on Christmas Eve. …Ah, this is our floor.”
He leads me, and I’m a bit grateful that he doesn’t expect the recipient to be him or push me for answers. Maybe it’s a small thing, but he always makes me feel like I’m the center of his world, without ever making me feel pressured to put him at the center of mine. Though he is, of course.
“Here we are,” Nicolas says, opening our room’s door for me like the gentleman he is.
“Thank you!”
Our room is gorgeous, and as fancy as one would expect, but I’m aware we don’t have much time before Solange really runs out of patience, so I dart into our ensuite bathroom.
Thankfully, the hotel offers a great bathroom kit, so I get to take a lightning-fast shower, brush my teeth, and manage to comb my hair with my fingers and put it up in twin buns, all in under ten minutes.
I’m also grateful that I always carry my tinted cherry lip balm in my purse; I get to make my lips a bit plumper and use a fingertip of it on my cheeks for a make-do blush!
I take stock of my attire. It’s no pretty velvet green dress, but plenty of people in the lobby were wearing coats and comfortable clothes.
And my sweater dress is Christmas-themed, and no one will care about my Ugg boots once they’re under the table… hopefully!
“Ready?” Nicolas asks, smiling at me.
I’m about to say I am, but I suddenly notice his attire.
He’s not wearing the suit I know he was supposed to wear, the black slacks with the white bow tie and the velvet green jacket my dress would have matched.
Instead, Nicolas is wearing a Christmas jumper over his snowman shirt, and I frown, a bit confused.
“…What about your suit?” I ask.
“You wanted us to match,” he replies. “We match better this way.”
…Did I already mention how much I absolutely love this man?
I feel the tears coming, while this amazing, wonderful man still stares right back at me, with those earnest big blue eyes of his, looking incredibly calm when I’m a frazzled mess. So, I do the only right thing: I open my arms and, when he reciprocates, I dive right into his embrace.
Nicolas and I love hugs.
Sometimes, I think we’re a bit of a weird couple, because we love hugs more than kisses.
But it’s just our thing. Those tight, warm hugs where our bodies fit perfectly against one another, the way he squishes me unapologetically, and even how I make myself take three deep breaths into his shoulder.
It’s one of those grounding things I love whenever I get a bit overwhelmed.
I just focus on him, on my boyfriend, and on the physical reminder that I can find him and hug him whenever I need to.
Even when he’s not here and I miss him, thinking about our next hug is the most uplifting feeling ever.
And he smells like that lovely pine-and-cinnamon soap I got him for the season because, of course, he always likes and uses whatever I get him.
“I love you,” I mumble into his Christmas sweater.
“I love you too,” he replies immediately, pressing a kiss on the top of my head, because he’s that much taller than me. “…Are you alright?”
“I am,” I nod, and I mean it. “I’m sorry I got a bit upset earlier.”
“You had a good reason to be,” he sighs. “A lost suitcase is upsetting, and I know you were looking forward to dressing up tonight. I’m sorry you don’t get to, sweetheart.”
“It’s alright,” I shrug. “It was just a dress.”
Nicolas tilts his head, inspecting my expression, but I compel myself to give him a smile. Not a too-fake one, but a smile that tells him I’m alright.
Because I am.
Am I disappointed I won’t get to wear my dress?
Yeah, a bit. But it’s just a dress, and I’ll get it back, and I can wear it some other time, right?
It’s not even lost. And I’m here, in this beautiful chateau, celebrating Christmas with him.
I might have been upset for a minute—okay, a long minute—but I like to think I am a positive person.
And that means I have to be positive in the bad moments too; otherwise, it’s too easy.
So, after I give myself just a tiny minute of swallowing the disappointment that I won’t be making any fashion statements this year, I give Nicolas another firm, more determined nod.
“I’m really alright,” I tell him, “and it’s Christmas Eve! I’m spending Christmas Eve with my boyfriend in a beautiful chateau, and I plan to enjoy a ridiculously fancy meal. And hopefully, we can stop your mom and Emi from fighting…?”
He smiles.
“I like that,” he says, before leaning over to press a quick kiss on my lips. “Let’s get going.”
He takes my hand, and I let him guide me out of the bedroom.