Michaella, a gifted writer, finds herself haunted by the memories of a love that slipped through her fingers. As she pens down her heartache and cherished moments with Gabrielle, an architect whose charm and warmth once made her world brighter, she...
Christmas morning arrived, but Michaella hadn't slept well. She lay in bed, staring at the soft light filtering through the curtains, feeling weighed down by everything. The day ahead was full, yet she lingered under the warmth of her blanket, not ready to face it. All night, she had stared at Gabrielle's message, those familiar, comforting words pulling at her heart. Part of her longed to reply, to give in to the love that still lingered between them. But her pride held her back. He didn't deserve a reply, did he? The conflict tore at her, but before she could dwell any longer, her phone rang, snapping her back to reality.
She glanced at the screen—her housekeeper, Dortha.
"Hello?"
"Michaella, dear, I've been standing at the door for nearly 15 minutes. No one's answering, and you didn't leave me the key."
Michaella groaned, quickly throwing the blanket off her. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Dortha! I'll be right there."
She rushed to the door, unlocking it and finding Dortha standing there, bundled up against the cold, a knowing smile on her face.
"Merry Christmas, dear," Dortha said warmly.
"Merry Christmas, Dortha. I'm sorry... I—" Michaella ran her hand through her hair, feeling the exhaustion settle in. "I've got a bit of a headache."
Dortha stepped inside, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Michaella nodded, though the ache behind her eyes spoke otherwise. "Just... tired, I guess."
"I'll make you something to drink," Dortha offered kindly.
"Can it be coffee?" Michaella asked, knowing she needed the caffeine to power through the day.
Dortha gave her a gentle but firm look. "No, I'll make you some herbs. Coffee isn't what you need right now."
Michaella pouted like a child, feeling unusually needy. "But I want coffee."
Dortha laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "Let's see how you feel after the herbs. I missed you, you know. Three months away is a long time."
"I missed you too, but you had to be with your family. It's okay," Michaella replied, grateful for Dortha's presence.
Dortha waved it off, already heading toward the kitchen. "Go take a shower, dear. You can't be looking tired on Christmas Day."
Michaella sighed, knowing Dortha wouldn't let her be until she freshened up. "Alright, alright, I'll go," she mumbled with a small smile.
She padded upstairs to her bedroom, the sound of Dortha bustling in the kitchen already easing her headache. After a long, hot shower, Michaella wrapped herself in a soft robe, feeling a little more human but still weighed down by the emotions of the night before. She got dressed in a little black dress, timeless and elegant, perfect for the occasion.
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