Victim

Thanksgiving

Kylie's POV

The dining room glows with a golden warmth, the soft light of the chandelier reflecting off the polished wood table. The room smells like cinnamon and roasted vegetables, with the faint, savory aroma of turkey wafting in from the kitchen. Plates are already set, surrounded by mismatched but charming chairs, and the table is scattered with flickering candles and small decorations—a couple of pinecones, dried leaves, and even a tiny pumpkin or two. It's the kind of scene you'd see in a family magazine, except this isn't a picture-perfect family. It's us—a chaotic, mismatched group of friends—and somehow, it feels even better than perfect.

We're all seated at the table, laughter already bubbling as we swap ridiculous Thanksgiving stories. I'm next to Malia, and across from us sit Ruby and Joshua, their playful bickering filling the air. Next to Joshua is Peder, who can't seem to stop stealing glances at Dior, and across from him are Dior and Xóchitl, who's busy gesturing wildly while telling some exaggerated story.

As we wait for the turkey to finish cooking, the energy is light and buzzing with anticipation. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

"Did anybody invite someone extra?" Ruby asks, already getting up to answer it.

I freeze, glancing at Dior. Her expression is unreadable, but her raised eyebrows and faint smirk seem to scream, I told you so. My heart starts racing. Could it be? I really hope it's Momona.

"Kylie? Dior? Did you invite anyone?" Ruby presses, her hand hovering over the doorknob as she waits for an answer.

The whole table falls quiet, all eyes turning toward us. Dior sinks lower into her seat, looking like she'd rather vanish than speak. She never told me if she managed to convince Momona, so I'm as much in the dark as anyone else. Malia nudges me, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity, but I just shrug helplessly.

Ruby sighs dramatically and throws her hands in the air. "Well, guess we're about to find out." She swings the door open.

"Momona!?" Malia and Xóchitl exclaim at the same time.

Malia's voice is full of surprise and delight, while Xóchitl's carries a sharper edge, one that makes me wince. Malia's practically beaming, and Xóchitl... well, her look is less thrilled, bordering on suspicious as her gaze flickers to me.

"Surprise!" I say, lifting my hands in a half-hearted jazz-hands motion. I try to play it off cool, but my heart feels like it might leap out of my chest.

Momona steps inside, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. "I brought wine!" she announces, her tone cheerful but slightly cautious.

"Great, come in," Ruby says, taking the bottle from her with a knowing smile. "I think we could all use a glass," she mutters under her breath, though it's just loud enough for me to catch.

Momona slides into the seat across from Xóchitl, flashing her a small smile. I see Xó's tense expression soften, and for a moment, it feels like the air in the room shifts, the tension melting into something warmer. Momona then turns to Malia, offering her an awkward little wave.

Malia's face lights up, and she leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder and squeezing my arm affectionately. I glance at Momona, and she meets my gaze. We exchange a look—one that says everything without needing words.

The drama is over. We're back to normal, or at least something close to it.

The room's energy transforms from awkward to comforting in a matter of minutes. As the wine gets passed around, conversations spark up again, tentative at first, but soon full of laughter and teasing.