「 𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 」 - editing

3

The living room was a picture of warmth, alive with the glow of Christmas lights strung across the windows and the gentle flicker of candles on the mantle. The faint scent of pine from the tree mixed with cinnamon and sugar, wafting from the kitchen. A playlist of old carols played softly in the background, adding to the feeling that this house had wrapped itself in the very essence of the season.

Ayana stood near the Christmas tree, her hand trailing over a glittering strand of tinsel. Beside her, Rayyan was hanging ornaments, pausing every so often to step back and study his handiwork.

“Not bad, huh?” he asked, gesturing toward the tree as he placed a golden star-shaped ornament on one of the higher branches.

“Perfect,” she turned to him slowly, the shadows in her brown eyes more prominent than he had expected. “Your tree looks great,” Ayana said, managing a small smile. But her voice wavered, lacking the conviction his grin deserved.

Rayyan tilted his head at her, his eyes narrowing in quiet concern. “You’re not yourself today,” he said. “What’s going on?”

Ayana’s hands stilled on a nearby ornament. She didn’t answer immediately, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Ayana hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to share; it was that putting her thoughts into words always felt heavier than keeping them locked inside. But Rayyan had always been patient with her in a way that no one else could match.

“Are you guys not decorating at home this year?” Rayyan pressed, his tone gentle but curious.

She shook her head, the faintest hint of bitterness seeping into her voice. “We haven’t decorated for years.”

Rayyan frowned. “What? Why not? You used to have the most fun decorations ever! Remember when you made those paper snowflakes and hung them all over the ceiling?”

Ayana gave a small, bittersweet laugh. “Yeah. I remember.” Her shoulders sagged as she returned the ornament to its box. “But things are different now. Grandma always made such a big deal about everything looking ‘right,’ and now Nayla does the same. All the decorations have to match, the tree has to look perfect… but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. It feels like we’re decorating a showroom, not our home.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as her eyes drifted back to the unlit candle. “I guess… things changed. After Grandma started spending more time at our house, it was like everything had to be perfect. Christmas became more about making everything look right for her.”

Rayyan frowned but said nothing, waiting for her to go on.

“Now, Nayla handles all the decorations,” Ayana continued, her voice trembling slightly. “She buys the most expensive tree she can find, hires someone to put lights on the house, even orders those fancy ornaments from some designer in another country. But none of it feels real.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the ground. “She doesn’t even let me help. She says I’ll mess up the ‘theme.’”

Rayyan’s expression darkened. He crouched next to her, his knees brushing the pine needles scattered across the floor. “That’s stupid. What’s the point of all that if it’s not fun? Decorations aren’t supposed to be perfect—they’re supposed to feel like you.”

Ayana nodded, but the motion was hollow. “It’s not just Christmas, though. It’s everything. Birthdays, New Year’s, even Halloween. They’re all the same. For show. There’s no laughter, no togetherness—it’s just… empty.”

Rayyan’s heart tightened at her words. He couldn’t imagine a Christmas—or any celebration—without the messiness of family: the shared jokes, the arguments over where to hang ornaments, the hours spent baking until his mother shouted about burnt cookies. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs.