The snow swirled gently around the village as Jeremy walked briskly, clutching the book beneath his coat. His mind was a storm of emotions. He couldn't understand why Chelsea and Max cared so much, why they kept trying to reach him. No one had ever done that before—not for him.

As he reached the outskirts of town, Jeremy found himself at a small clearing he often visited when he needed to be alone. The snow here was untouched, a pristine blanket of white that glowed softly under the moonlight. He dropped onto an old wooden log and pulled the book out from his coat.

The story of Jack had hooked him more than he wanted to admit. The way Jack's antics masked his loneliness, the way the old man's kindness chipped away at his defenses... it all felt too familiar. But Jeremy wasn't sure if he liked seeing himself in Jack. Was this how other people saw him? A troublemaker, a loner?

He opened the book again, the pages fluttering slightly in the cold breeze. His eyes scanned the next chapter, where Jack had started helping the old man carve gifts for others. Jack didn't understand why the old man bothered, but little by little, he began to see the joy it brought to those who received the gifts.

Jeremy sighed, closing the book halfway through the chapter. He wasn't sure he wanted to keep reading.

"Why do they care?" he muttered to himself.

A faint jingling sound broke the silence, and Jeremy's head shot up. For a moment, he thought it might be Chelsea and Max following him again, but instead, he saw a faint glow emerging from the treeline. The light moved closer, and with it came the unmistakable figure of Santa Claus.

Jeremy stiffened. "Oh, great. You too?"

Santa smiled warmly, his boots crunching through the snow as he approached. "Don't worry, Jeremy. I'm not here to lecture you. I just thought you could use some company."

Jeremy frowned, but he didn't move from his spot. Santa lowered himself onto the log beside him, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. He didn't say anything at first, just looked out over the clearing, his eyes twinkling as they reflected the moonlight.

Finally, Santa spoke. "That's quite a special book you have there."

Jeremy's grip on the book tightened instinctively. "It's just a dumb story."

Santa chuckled softly. "Is it? Or does it remind you of someone you know?"

Jeremy's face flushed, and he looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know," Santa said gently, "stories have a way of showing us things we don't always want to see. Sometimes they make us uncomfortable because they touch something true inside us."

Jeremy didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the ground. Santa continued, his voice kind and steady. "It's okay to feel that way. It's okay to not have all the answers right now. But the fact that you're still holding onto that book tells me something. It tells me you're curious."

Jeremy scowled. "Maybe I'm just bored."

Santa's laugh was deep and warm. "Maybe. Or maybe you're starting to wonder if things could be different."

The two sat in silence for a while, the only sound the gentle rustling of the trees in the wind. Finally, Jeremy stood, tucking the book back into his coat. "I've got stuff to do," he muttered.

Santa nodded, standing as well. "Of course. Just remember, Jeremy, you don't have to figure everything out at once. Take your time. And keep reading. You might find more than you expect."

Jeremy didn't respond, but as he walked away, he glanced back once, just for a moment, before disappearing into the trees. Santa watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Back at the North Pole, Chelsea and Max sat with Clara by the fire, discussing what might happen next. They had no idea that Jeremy, now alone in the quiet of his room, had opened the book again and begun to read.

Jeremy sat on the worn chair in his small, chilly room, the book balanced on his lap. His coat hung on the back of the chair, drops of melted snow pooling on the wooden floor beneath it. A faint golden glow from a single candle flickered across the pages as he stared down at the words.

This time, as he read, he slowed down, taking in the story carefully. Jack's transformation wasn't sudden or easy, and it frustrated Jeremy. The old man's kindness didn't magically fix everything, and Jack's progress came in fits and starts. Jeremy frowned, his brow furrowing as he read a passage where Jack lashed out at the old man, breaking one of the carved gifts in anger.

"Why didn't he just leave?" Jeremy muttered under his breath. "Why'd he even bother sticking around?"

But as he turned the page, the story answered his question. The old man didn't yell or get angry. Instead, he quietly picked up the pieces of the broken gift and began to carve it again. Jack had expected to be pushed away, but instead, he was met with patience.

Jeremy closed the book and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. That part of the story stuck with him more than he wanted it to. He had always believed that people gave up on others when things got hard—he'd seen it happen enough times. But the old man in the story... he didn't.

Jeremy rubbed his eyes, frustrated at the feelings swirling inside him. "It's just a dumb story," he muttered again, but his voice lacked conviction.

Outside, the faint sounds of the village winding down for the night drifted through his cracked window. Jeremy looked at the book again, running his fingers over the cover. Slowly, he opened it to the next chapter and began to read once more.