𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐏A𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, jp

Christmas Eve.

Almost every Christmas tradition in the Lupin house had been missed by now. The advent calendars were untouched, and the tree sat in the corner of the sitting room, strung with dull, mismatched tinsel and a few dusty ornaments. The wooden angel Maisie had painted in school still lay at the bottom of the decoration box, nobody had dared to put it on the tree. No one had hung the stockings over the fireplace like they usually did either. No one had the heart. Especially not Izzy.

On Christmas Eve, long after her parents had gone to bed and the telly had been turned off, Izzy slipped out of her room. She moved quietly, the house creaking beneath her feet in protest. She wore old tracksuit bottoms, an oversized jumper she'd stolen from her father's drawer years ago, and a coat that didn't quite fit anymore. Her hair was a mess, her face drawn, pale.

She looked like a ghost of herself, she felt like one too.

She didn't bother with turning on the lights, she just moved by memory. Down the stairs, into the small hallway. She took the spare key from the dish on the side table, pulled on her boots without lacing them, and stepped out into the cold.

Snow had fallen thick , the world outside was blanketed in white, soft and untouched. The road was nearly invisible beneath it and her breath came out in thin streams, curling like smoke in the icy air.

Walking felt almost painful. She'd been cooped up in her room for almost two weeks now, and everything ached with every step. She pinned it down to not doing anything, but perhaps its was because she'd hardly eaten or drank any water too. She didn't really care, the pain felt kind of nice. Satisfying, in a way. She'd never thought like that before.

The village wasn't far, just a few minutes' walk, and as she approached, the world began to glow. The houses were strung with lights, huge glass bulbs, big and mismatched in reds, greens, and oranges that flickered softly and gave off heat when you touched them. They were looped around window frames and strung across eaves with crooked nails, their cords swaying slightly in the breeze. A few houses had wreaths made from real pine, tied with velvet ribbons now heavy with frost. Others had candles flickering in the windows, their golden flames dancing behind curtains.

Some front gardens had wooden reindeer cut-outs or snowmen fashioned from old blankets and buttons. On one porch, a toy Santa played faint music, a tiny version of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' that made her chest tighten.

And then there were the trees.

Through each glowing window, she saw them. Christmas trees standing proudly in corners, decorated with old-fashioned glass baubles and paper chains. One tree had tinsel thick as rope. Another had a glittering star on top that spun gently from the warmth of the room.

It all looked like something out of an illustrated storybook. Dreamlike. Warm. Alive. And Izzy felt like she didn't belong in it at all. Like she'd lost all hope.

She slowed as she reached the heart of the village. Every light seemed to press against her skin. She thought of Maisie, how she used to point out each house, rating the decorations, laughing at the silly ones, clapping for the best ones. How they'd walk side by side, both wrapped in their coats and sharing a hot cup of hot chocolate from the café on the corner. How Maisie had once declared the pink fairy lights on Mrs. Pennington's house were "the best thing ever invented."

The memories didn't even feel nice anymore. They used to be what she'd cling on to, but now they just made her heart ache and fill her with dread.

She hadn't even worn gloves tonight. Her hands were already burning with cold, and she couldn't stop shivering despite the thick clothes she was wearing. It was as though her body was turning against her.