3 septembre 2026

THE CHRISTMAS I ARRIVED TOO EARLY

Lights glowed from every window. Laughter spilled faintly through the walls. Cars lined the driveway—more than usual. Evelyn always believed that “early arrivals show true enthusiasm.”

I let myself in through the mudroom, quietly, almost playfully. I wanted to surprise them. I wanted to surprise him.

My boots clicked softly against the slate floor as I stepped inside.

The smell hit me first—pine, cinnamon, bourbon.

Home.

Or at least, what I thought was home.

Then I heard his voice.

Ethan.

Not the version I’d been living with—the distracted, distant man who barely looked up from his phone.

No.

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