The Bangkok heat clung to everything, even at seven in the evening on Christmas Eve. Sophie wiped sweat from her forehead as she navigated through the crowded Chatuchak Weekend Market, her sister Emma trailing behind, camera in hand.

“This is mental,” Emma laughed, dodging a motorbike taxi. “Christmas in thirty-five degrees. Mum would have a fit seeing us in shorts and tank tops right now.”

Sophie smiled, fingering the small silver lighter in her pocket. Their grandfather’s lighter—the one thing she’d insisted on bringing to Thailand, despite Emma’s protests about unnecessary baggage. The engraved initials “J.H” caught the light from the market stalls as she turned it over in her palm.

They’d planned this trip for months. Two weeks in Thailand, escaping the dreary December rain of Manchester, escaping the first Christmas without their grandfather. The old man had been obsessed with travel stories, filling their childhood with tales of places he’d never quite managed to visit himself.

“Look at this,” Emma called, holding up a Buddha statue made of recycled glass. “Grandpa Joe would have loved this market. All these little treasures.”

Sophie nodded, but her throat felt tight. That’s exactly what he would have said—little treasures. He’d collected them from the few places he had managed to reach: a wooden spoon from Scotland, a pressed flower from Ireland, and a smooth stone from Wales. His mantelpiece had been a museum of modest adventures.

They bought Pad Thai from a street vendor and found a plastic table under string lights. The familiar ache of missing their grandfather settled between them as they ate in comfortable silence. Around them, Thai families laughed and ate together, children running between the stalls with sticky fingers and bright smiles.

“I keep expecting him to text me,” Emma said quietly. “Asking for photos, you know? Making me describe everything in detail.”

Sophie pulled out the lighter, setting it on the table between their steaming plates. The silver caught the warm glow of the market lights.

“I brought this because… I thought maybe I’d leave it somewhere. Like, scatter his ashes or something symbolic.” She gave a small laugh. “Stupid, really. It’s just a lighter.”

Emma reached across and touched the worn metal. “It’s not stupid. Remember how he always carried it? Even after he quit smoking twenty years ago.”

“Emergency fire,” they said in unison, mimicking their grandfather’s gravelly voice. He’d claimed you never knew when you might need to start a campfire or light someone’s way in the dark.

A group of Thai teenagers at the next table burst into laughter, and one of them, a girl about Emma’s age with bright pink hair, caught Sophie’s eye and smiled. Before Sophie could think too much about it, she found herself walking over.

“Excuse me,” she said in careful English. “My sister and I are here for Christmas. We’re from England. Do you… Would you like to share our table? It’s Christmas Eve.”

The pink-haired girl’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Yes, please!” Her friends gathered around, chattering in rapid Thai mixed with English. Their names tumbled out: Nim, Ploy, Bank, and Kao.

Soon, both tables were pushed together, and the teenagers were helping Sophie and Emma order more food, teaching them to say “Merry Christmas” in Thai: “Suk San Wan Christmas.” The lighter sat forgotten on the table as stories were shared through a mixture of languages, Google Translate, and lots of gesturing.

Nim, the pink-haired girl, was studying in Bangkok but was originally from a small village north of the city. She was spending Christmas Eve at the market because she couldn’t afford to travel home until New Year’s.

“Family is very important,” she said, her English careful but warm. “But sometimes… friends are family too, yes?”

Emma and Sophie exchanged glances. Their grandfather had always said that chosen family could be just as precious as blood family.

As the evening wore on, Bank produced a small Bluetooth speaker and played a mix of Thai pop and Christmas songs. When “White Christmas” came on, Nim giggled and pointed at Sophie and Emma.

“You miss white Christmas?” she asked.

“Actually,” Sophie said, surprising herself, “I think I prefer this. The warmth, the food, the…” she gestured around the table, “the people.”

Ploy noticed the lighter then, picking it up carefully. “Very beautiful,” she said.

Sophie found herself explaining about their grandfather, about the trip they’d taken in his memory, and about how she’d planned to leave the lighter somewhere meaningful. As she spoke, she realised the ache in her chest had softened somehow.

“But you know,” she continued, looking around the table at their new friends, “I think he would have loved this. This exact moment.”

Emma nodded, tears in her eyes. “He always said the best souvenirs were the people you met.”

When midnight approached, they all walked to a nearby temple where families had gathered for late-night Christmas prayers, Buddhist families celebrating the Christian holiday with the same spirit of love and togetherness that transcended specific traditions.

Standing there under the temple lights, surrounded by the gentle murmur of prayers in Thai and the warm presence of both strangers and new friends, Sophie made a decision. She pulled out her grandfather’s lighter and handed it to Nim.

“I’d like you to have this,” she said. “My grandfather would have wanted it to travel, to see the world he never got to explore.”

Nim’s eyes widened. “I cannot… this is too precious.”

“Please,” Sophie insisted. “Promise me you’ll carry it somewhere beautiful. Light someone’s way.”

Nim held the lighter reverently, then smiled. “I promise. Emergency fire, yes?”

“Emergency fire,” Sophie laughed, and Emma joined in.

As they exchanged contact information and promised to stay in touch, Sophie realised that this Christmas, sweat-drenched and thousands of miles from home, felt more full of joy and connection than any she could remember. Their grandfather’s lighter was beginning a new adventure, and somehow, so were they.

Walking back through the quieter streets to their hostel, Emma took Sophie’s hand.

“I think Grandpa Joe got his Christmas wish after all,” Emma said.

“What’s that?”

“He always wanted to travel the world and meet interesting people. I think he just did.”

Sophie squeezed her sister’s hand and looked up at the Bangkok sky, where no snow would fall, but where the warmth of human connection felt like the most perfect Christmas gift imaginable.