Chương 10 - The First Christmas
Christmas Morning.
The living room of our East Austin home was warm, glowing with the soft red and green lights of our seven-foot Douglas fir tree.
Gift boxes wrapped in gold paper were stacked around the base. Outside, a light frost covered the grass, glinting like crushed diamonds under the rising sun.
Theo sat on the rug by the tree, wearing red plaid pajama pants, holding Maya in his lap. She was wearing a tiny red velvet onesie with white faux-fur trim, staring wide-eyed at the glowing lights on the Christmas tree branches.
"Look at that light, sweetie," Theo whispered gently, guiding her small hand to safely touch a smooth plastic ornament. "Pretty, right?"
I walked in from the kitchen carrying two mugs of hot cocoa topped with whipped cream, setting them on the coffee table before sitting down on the rug beside them.
Aunt Karen, Uncle David, and two of my cousins were arriving at noon for Christmas dinner—a real family dinner, where everyone was welcome, everyone was respected, and no one was expected to perform or sacrifice their dignity for someone else’s vanity.
My phone, sitting on the side table, vibrated once.
I picked it up.
It was a text message from an unknown number—a San Antonio area code.
I opened the message.
It was a photograph.
A photograph of an old, faded holiday card from twenty years ago—a picture of twelve-year-old me and eight-year-old Bianca standing in front of a Christmas tree, wearing matching dresses, smiling shyly at the camera.
Below the photo, a single line of text appeared:
I hope you're happy with what you've done to this family. Merry Christmas.
I stared at the screen for three seconds.
I didn't feel a spike of adrenaline. I didn't feel my blood pressure rise. I didn't feel the old, familiar knot of guilt tightening in my throat.
I tapped the options icon at the top of the screen.
Selected Block Contact.
Then tapped Delete Conversation.
The screen cleared instantly, returning to my warm, colorful lock screen photo of Theo holding Maya in the hospital room.
"Who was that?" Theo asked softly, looking up from the tree.
"Nobody," I smiled, setting the phone screen-down on the table. "Just an old wrong number."
I leaned over, wrapping my arms around Theo’s shoulder, resting my cheek against Maya’s soft, sweet-scented hair.
Maya let out a bright, bubbling giggle, her tiny feet kicking against Theo’s knee as she reached for a red ribbon hanging from a low branch.
"Merry Christmas, Naomi," Theo whispered, turning his head to kiss my lips softly.
May you like
"Merry Christmas, Theo," I murmured against his cheek.
Outside, the morning sun rose higher into the clear Texas sky, casting warm, golden light across our living room, burning away the last remaining shadows of the past, leaving behind only the bright, unbroken promise of the future.
