The snow lingered in thick, pillowy mounds around the Monroe farmhouse, untouched in some corners, perfectly sculpted by nature's hand. It was that magical stretch between Christmas and New Year's — where time slowed, hearts stayed full, and hope quietly gathered like frost on a windowpane.

Inside the cozy living room, Avery and Lila sat at the kitchen table surrounded by scraps of lace, magazine clippings, and an open notebook that had "Wedding Wishes" scribbled in glittery ink across the top.

"So, a spring wedding?" Lila asked, tapping her pencil thoughtfully. "Under the orchard trees?"

"With wildflowers and old wooden benches," Avery said, her voice warm with excitement. "And you walk down the aisle in bare feet like you always used to."

Luke passed by, mug in hand, overhearing the tail end. "Wait — am I expected to go barefoot too?"

Avery laughed. "Only if you want to fully embrace the rustic romance."

"Noted," he grinned. "But no promises."

That afternoon, with snow still falling gently, Lila, Avery, and Claire bundled up and made their way toward the edge of the property, where the old pine memorial tree stood — tall, proud, and wrapped in strands of white lights the sisters had hung every Christmas Eve for as long as they could remember.

The tree had been planted the year they lost their parents — a living symbol of love, growth, and memory. Beneath it, a small carved plaque read:

"Forever Rooted in Love – Daniel & Grace Monroe"

Claire placed a single red rose at the base, brushing snow off the plaque.

"I missed them so much this year," she whispered.

Lila nodded. "Me too. But somehow... I feel like they're closer than ever."

Avery stepped forward, pulling out a delicate glass ornament from her coat pocket. Inside was a sprig of pine, a bit of lace from their mother's wedding dress, and a tiny golden heart charm.

"I made one for each of us," she said. "So we always carry a piece of this place... of them... wherever we go."

One by one, they hung the ornaments on the tree, hands trembling slightly with the weight of both memory and love.

As they stood there in silence, snowflakes falling gently around them, Claire softly said, "We didn't just come home to the farm. We came home to ourselves."

That night, the farmhouse glowed with firelight and soft music. Ethan and Luke had made chili — a little too spicy — and everyone had gathered for board games and leftover Christmas cookies. Jet had managed to sneak two sugar cookies off the table before anyone caught him.

Later, as the night grew still, Lila stood on the porch wrapped in a blanket, watching the snow fall.

Luke joined her quietly, sliding an arm around her waist.

"Thinking about them?" he asked.

She nodded. "I always do this time of year."

"You think they'd approve of me?" he said, a little nervously.

Lila smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "They'd adore you. My dad would've challenged you to a snowball fight within five minutes, and my mom would've handed you a second helping of pie before you even finished your first."

Luke chuckled. "Then I definitely picked the right family."

She looked up at him. "You did."

He kissed her forehead, and they stood there in the hush of a Vermont evening, with snow drifting down like blessings from the heavens.

Inside, Avery stared at the glowing fireplace, the golden compass necklace glinting on her collarbone. She traced the heart engraved in the back and whispered softly to Ethan, who now dozed with Jet on his lap.

"Home isn't just a place," she murmured. "It's who you share it with."

And in the stillness of that winter night, the Monroe sisters — once scattered, once searching — were whole again.

🎄 End of Chapter 8 🎄