They met beneath a sky that had forgotten how to shine.
It was the kind of winter that softened everything—voices, footsteps, even memories. Snow rested gently on rooftops like unopened letters, and the piano room in the west wing of the university stood untouched, holding its silence like a secret.
Sebastiano Valezzi didn't believe in fate, only in discipline. He lived between metronome ticks and quiet glances, his music sharp, calculated, and cold—as if emotion were a luxury he no longer allowed himself.
Then came Aria.
She didn't walk into his life. She danced into it—sleeves flowing like stories, eyes full of a thousand unspoken things. She moved with the grace of someone who had known both beauty and loss… but still chose beauty.
He didn't know what drew him to her. Maybe it was the way she smiled at snowfall. Maybe it was the sorrow behind her joy. Or maybe it was how, when she danced, time seemed to hold its breath.
> "You don't play like you're alive," she once told him.
"And you," he replied, "dance like you're saying goodbye."
He didn't know what she was running from.
She didn't know what he was hiding from.
But the music between them knew.
And it would only last—
for one last December.
Author's Note
Before you begin…
This story began on a quiet evening, with the sound of a single piano note in my mind and the image of a girl dancing through snow.
One Last December is a tale about music, movement, and the invisible threads that tie us to each other. It's about meeting someone who sees the part of you that even you've forgotten—and how, sometimes, the most unexpected people enter our lives just when we need them most.
As you read, I hope you'll feel the hush of winter, the weight of unspoken emotions, and the beauty that can exist even in silence.
Not all stories shout. Some whisper—and stay with you long after the last page.
With love, I welcome you into a winter melody—fleeting, tender, unforgettable.