“Sentencing duration?“ You swirled coffee in porcelain， sunlight glinting off the rim.

The voice through the phone sighed.“One week detention. Insufficient evidence for full trafficking charges.“

Your fingernail tapped rhythmically against the cup.“What about his...*side ventures*? I hear his new business smells rather foul.“

A weighted pause.“Let me investigate.“

Through the window， Aurora guided puppies through agility drills—posture erect， scars hidden beneath silver-tipped fur. Each healed wound a testament.

Three days later， the callback came laced with fury.“An underground site. Sold illicit videos. Millions profited.“

“Materials forwarded to cyber police，“ the voice growled.“Five years minimum.“

Your gaze lingered on Aurora comforting a trembling pup. This gentle soul who survived on 50 grams daily.

“Regarding his detainment meals...“ Your tone turned glacial.“Fifty grams daily should suffice.“

“Fifty? That's—“

“His own doctrine.“ You watched Aurora demonstrate a perfect retrieve.“Let him savor his wisdom.“

The chuckle through the receiver promised poetic justice.

---

December 24th dawned with children's laughter and firecracker pops. Snowflakes dusted training grounds where Jack brewed espresso， his golden tail wagging to the grinder's rhythm.

“Grocery run!“ You herded the pack.

Aurora navigated the festive chaos with Snowball perched in the cart. The Corgi's nose quivered toward snack aisles.

“Aurora?“ You held up yogurt-covered treats.“Your pick.“

His claws flexed against the handlebar—a telltale tic.

“Yogurt flavor!“ Snowball blurted.“He secretly hoards—“

A charcoal paw muffled the confession. Aurora's ears shot upright， tail fluffing like dandelion fluff.

You dropped three packs into the cart， pretending not to notice his burning ear-tips. The subtle tail wag betrayed everything.

---

The kitchen glowed amber with holiday lights. Aurora hunched over the dough， massive paws puncturing the delicate pastry. His brow furrowed—a soldier disarming landmines， not baking cookies.

“Gentle.“ Your hand closed over his. Calloused pads met your palm， velvety fur brushing your wrist.

He froze. Ear-tips flushed coral.

His pulse thrummed wild beneath your fingertips—180 bpm， you noted clinically. A heartbeat trained for combat， now racing at simple touch.

Snowball erupted in giggles， red bean paste smeared across his snout. Alpha sighed through a smile， methodically scrubbing sauce from the walls.

#

Dinner unfolded in warm chaos.

Aurora transferred the roasted chicken with bomb-defusal precision. You remembered his first stolen meal， gulped in shadowed corners. Now he served Snowball a drumstick， cautioning “Hot“ with paternal care.

“Lin!“ The Corgi garbled through mouthfuls.“Aurora's meat tastes best!“

The wolfdog's ears dipped， tail sweeping crumbs into perfect arcs.

Midnight found you dozing on the couch， Christmas TV Gala droning through the compound.

His scent approached—pine resin and oat milk shampoo. A blanket settled over you.

“Thank you.“ The whisper ghosted your forehead.

You opened your eyes.

He recoiled， pupils blown wide—combat-ready. Yet made no move to flee.

Your lips brushed his cheek.

Fireworks bloomed beyond the windows， fracturing his stunned expression into prismatic shards.

“Merry Christmas.“

He swallowed hard. Gold flecks danced in his eyes—not fear， but supernova ignition.

“Merry Christmas.“

Somewhere， a crate rusted empty.