The Heartbreak Of Emma Campbell (Under Major Editing)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖

𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒐, 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂- 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔

The house smelled like cloves and orange peel.

Caroline had simmered something on the stove all afternoon—“a holiday brew,” she’d called it, humming along to Ella Fitzgerald while Spike followed her around with hopeful eyes. Outside, snow collected on the porch railing. Inside, it was a slow chaos.

Benjamin had returned from picking up an armload of pine garlands from the corner market and now stood in the living room with Dean, trying—and failing—to untangle the string lights that had lived in the attic since 1989.

“I’m telling you, this knot is a punishment from another life,” Benjamin muttered, holding the mess of lights like it might explode.

Dean squinted at them, expression deadpan. “Try unplugging it and plugging it back in.”

“That’s not how knots work, Dean.”

Emma laughed from the doorway, hands full of ornaments—glass balls, tiny knit stockings, and one wooden reindeer missing an eye.

Annabelle followed behind her, carrying a box of tangled tinsel with a candy cane sticking out of her mouth like a cigarette. “The reindeer is staying. He’s earned his keep.”

Stephanie sat cross-legged by the tree, stringing popcorn with practiced fingers, a soft frown on her face. But now and then, she glanced up. She didn’t smile yet. But she was here.

And that was something.

Caroline entered with a tray of mugs, her apron dusted in flour, cheeks flushed.

“Hot cider,” she announced. “And one emergency cocoa for whoever ends up accidentally electrocuted.”

“That’ll be Ben,” Annabelle said.

Benjamin lifted a hand. “Proudly volunteering.”

They laughed, and the sound filled the house the way warmth fills cold hands—slow and certain.

Emma sat beside the tree, pressing a tiny angel to the top branch. It tipped sideways but didn’t fall.

There was something beautiful about that.

She glanced toward her sister—Stephanie threading cranberries now, quiet but steady.

Emma reached into the ornament box and pulled out a small, round one with faded writing across the side.

𝑴𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒉’𝒔 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 – 𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟖.

Her breath caught.

She turned it gently in her hands, the paint chipped but still legible. Her mother’s name. A history in red script and silver flake. Emma held it like a heartbeat.

Caroline noticed.

“She loved that one,” she said softly, crouching beside Emma. “Your grandmother gave it to her when she was seven. She always put it right near the top.”

Emma blinked through the sting behind her eyes. “Can I?”

Caroline nodded.

Emma rose slowly and nestled the ornament near the angel, where the light hit it just right. A shimmer. A whisper.

For a moment, the room hushed.

Then Annabelle clapped her hands. “Okay, can we please do the window now? The neighbors already have blinking reindeer and we’re still in string-light limbo.”

“Let’s outshine the reindeer,” Caroline said.

And just like that, the moment spun into movement again.

Dean and Benjamin finally conquered the lights—somehow—and strung them across the living room windows. The glow was uneven. A little crooked.

Perfect.

Caroline lit candles along the mantle. Stephanie handed her a string of bells, which they hung gently over the staircase railing. Annabelle turned on the old radio and flipped through stations until Nat King Cole’s voice wrapped around them like a blanket.

Spike barked at a mechanical Santa toy.

Willow hid inside the tree skirt.

And Emma stood in the corner of the room, watching the scene with a softness swelling in her chest. A quiet joy that didn’t feel foreign anymore.

This wasn’t the family she lost.

It wasn’t the one she’d hoped for, either.

It was something else.

Something made of patchwork and pain and trying again.

Something real.

When the last light was plugged in, Caroline stepped back and folded her arms. “Well,” she said, eyes misty, “would you look at that.”

From the street, the house glowed golden.

Warm.

Alive.

And for the first time in years, the Campbells had a window full of light to come home to.