Chapter 49

The first thing Lisa noticed was how quiet everything felt.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet—the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket—but the kind that hummed low and heavy, like the world was holding its breath.

“Lisaaa…” Jennie’s voice floated from the back of the camper van, soft and drowsy. “Is it morning already?”

Lisa glanced at the frosted window beside her. White. Endless white. Snow had layered thick against the glass overnight, blurring the outside world into a dreamy haze.

“…Yeah,” she murmured, though her eyes narrowed slightly. “Morning.”

A beat.

“…And I think we might be snowed in.”

Silence.

Then—

“WHAT?!”

Three days. That was the plan.

Three peaceful, romantic, calm days in their brand new luxury camper van—Jennie’s dream purchase after months of overworking, Lisa’s proud reward after countless late nights. A winter camping trip, just the two of them… and Kuma, of course, their fluffy, overly spoiled Pomeranian.

It was supposed to be cozy.

It was supposed to be aesthetic.

It was not supposed to include a full-blown snowstorm.

Jennie stumbled forward from the back, wrapped like a burrito in three blankets, hair messy, eyes wide.

“Lisa, tell me you’re joking.”

Lisa opened the door.

A wall of snow greeted them.

Jennie blinked.

Lisa slowly closed the door.

“…I wish I was.”

Kuma, completely unbothered, barked excitedly and ran circles around them.

“Oh, of course you’re happy,” Jennie muttered, pointing at him. “You’re literally built for this weather.”

Kuma yipped proudly, tail wagging like a tiny flag.

Lisa laughed under her breath, walking over to Jennie and gently tugging one of her blankets tighter around her shoulders.

“Hey… it’s okay,” she said softly. “We’ve got supplies. Heating works. We’re safe.”

Jennie huffed, crossing her arms.

“This was supposed to be romantic,” she mumbled. “Not a survival documentary.”

Lisa grinned.

“Who says it can’t be both?”

Jennie shot her a look.

“…If I see you building a snow shelter outside, I’m breaking up with you.”

Lisa raised her hands in surrender, laughing.

“Noted.”

By noon, the storm hadn’t let up.

If anything, it got worse.

Wind howled outside, shaking the camper slightly, snow piling higher by the hour. Visibility was almost zero, the world beyond their windows completely swallowed.

Inside, though?

Warm.

Soft.

Safe.

Jennie had taken over the small kitchen, determined to “salvage the vibe,” as she put it. She stood there in Lisa’s oversized hoodie, sleeves too long, stirring instant ramen like it was a five-star dish.

Lisa sat across from her, chin resting on her hand, just… watching.

“What?” Jennie muttered without looking up.

“You’re cute,” Lisa replied immediately.

Jennie froze.

“…I’m literally cooking ramen.”

“Exactly.”

Jennie tried to stay annoyed.

She really did.

But the corners of her lips betrayed her.

They ate sitting side by side, knees touching, sharing from the same pot because Jennie insisted it “felt more camping-like.”

Kuma sat between them, of course, dramatically sighing every time they didn’t give him attention.

“You already ate,” Jennie scolded, poking his tiny head.

Kuma barked back.

Lisa snorted.

“I think he disagrees.”

Jennie scoffed. “He always disagrees. He’s just like you.”

Lisa gasped, offended.

“I am nothing like Kuma.”

Kuma barked again.

Jennie pointed. “See? Even he knows you’re lying.”

By evening, the storm still hadn’t passed.

The sky outside turned a deep, stormy blue, wind still roaring, snow relentless.

Jennie stood by the window, hugging herself as she stared out.

“It’s kind of scary,” she admitted quietly.

Lisa walked up behind her without a word, wrapping her arms around Jennie’s waist, pulling her close.

Jennie leaned back instantly.

“But…” she added, softer, “it’s also kind of nice.”

Lisa rested her chin on her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

Jennie nodded, watching the snow swirl.

“It feels like… the whole world stopped,” she said. “Like it’s just us here.”

Lisa smiled against her skin.

“…It is just us.”

Kuma barked.

Jennie snorted. “And our child.”

Night came with flickering fairy lights inside the van, soft music playing from Lisa’s phone, and a thick blanket cocoon they refused to leave.

Jennie lay with her head on Lisa’s chest, tracing lazy patterns on her hoodie.

“Admit it,” she murmured. “This didn’t go how you imagined.”

Lisa chuckled, fingers threading through Jennie’s hair.

“Not even close.”

“Disappointed?”

Lisa tilted her head, thinking for a second.

Then she leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Jennie’s forehead.

“Not really.”

Jennie looked up at her.

“…Why?”

Lisa smiled, soft and warm.

“Because I still got you,” she said simply.

Jennie’s expression melted instantly.

God, she hated how easily Lisa did that.

“…You’re so cheesy,” she muttered, burying her face back into Lisa’s chest.

Lisa laughed quietly.

“Yeah. But you love it.”

“…Maybe.”

Outside, the storm raged on.

Inside, the camper glowed with warmth, filled with quiet laughter, soft whispers, and the occasional dramatic bark from Kuma demanding attention.

Snow trapped them.

Time slowed down.

And somehow—

It became the calmest trip they’d ever had.