Rheostat

34.Macaron

I hated Christmas.

But then again, I hate every other day in the calendar.

But Christmas was in a slightly higher position than other days. The reason was simple.

I had to spend this day alone and no Santa would come to present me with gifts. This thought alone was enough to make me depressed for a week.

"Why are you all so excited?" I yawned, taking out the milk carton from the fridge. I had gotten up particularly late today.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS, AYLIN!" Eve and Ezra screamed in unison. They were making some sort of pastry together in the kitchen.

"Gosh, you don't have to scream like that." I complained, my ears still ringing.

Besides, what's so special about today? We weren't kids anymore.

"Eat." Kai placed a macaron before my mouth. "I made this."

"Mhmm, it's tasty." I commented. "Save me some, for later."

My head was hurting with all the decorations Noah and Diego were hanging around the house.

It was all just so bright.

The only person who looked more out of place than me was Stephen.

I don't know how but someone had managed to convince him to make pastries with them.

I bet he was on his way to work when Ezra stopped him. Now, he was cutting shapes out of the pastry dough while wearing a suit.

Feeling my stare, he looked up from his dough. "You want one, sweetheart?" He smiled at me.

"What are you making?" I asked, sitting opposite him.

"I'm not sure. Ezra just told me to cut them into shapes." He stated, his brows inched together trying to figure out what he was making.

Even if he looked out of place, he looked extremely happy. Everyone did.

Except me, of course.

I went back to my room, my blood boiling at how carefree everyone looked.

Did they spend Christmas every year like this?

Did they even miss me?

They say they did.

But then why did they never reach out? They didn't necessarily have to bring me back home. They could have just contacted me. Talked to me. Even once a year would have been fine.

But they didn't.

For Nine years, none of them ever bothered to visit me. Or even call me.

I could have been dead for all they cared.

Yet they act like nothing is wrong. Like nothing ever was.

They want me to play family with them. To join in their fabricated fairytale.

How is that fair to me?

Am I supposed to forget everything I had to go through in order to keep their perfect fairytale intact?

... ... ...

"Sweetheart?" Stephen knocked on my door. I hadn't gone down since breakfast. Rather I had been engrossed in sketching since noon.

"Yeah, come in." I hollered from my bed.

I wanted to go out. Maybe meet up with Emma. I am sure her Christmas was going worst than mine.

"They are decorating the Christmas tree." Stephen informed softly. "Won't you help?"

"I'm not feeling up for it." I faked a smile. "Maybe later."