She sat in a warm bath, bubbly water coming up to her shoulders.

The lights were off, although her bathroom was lit with candles, most of which were warmly scented like spiced apple or cinnamon.

She smiled softly, reading her book as she relaxed, the whole atmosphere felt warm, felt safe.

She stayed there for a while, just basking in it, basking in the quiet peace.

Eventually she got out, wrapping a fluffy towel around herself before walking to her room, looking out the bedroom window at the snow covered roads, giving her a sense of comfort.

She got changed into a pair of warm pyjamas and fluffy socks, curling up in bed and putting on a movie as she watched the snow.
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The fact that I literally just wrote a short story about my Christmas Eve routine makes me wonder how bad my writing block is