Chasing The Keeper

A Very Merry Christmas Morning

I opened the door to my house, and the scent of mums baking bit my nose. Cinnamon apple pie. Why was this the smell that made me burst out in sobs? Perhaps it was how homely it was, maybe it made me feel safe and comfortable to cry. Either way, the crying started abruptly. Wailing even.

I had wasted a whole year on a guy simply because of my own shallowness. I knew I didn't love him, and I led him on. This whole time I knew but didn't want to admit it.

"Is everything ok?" My mom stumbled out of the kitchen and ran towards me.

I couldn't formulate any words and just fell into her arms. The tears just kept coming, and it almost felt good to cry all of my emotions out. I cried into my mother's shoulder as she held me close.

"I take it the date didn't go well." My mom sighed, patting my back.

~~~~

I woke up early Christmas morning shivering. The sunlight already shone through my window, and I could see a snowstorm outside and one of the window panels open. I groaned and reached over to my wand. The window shut with a bang when I whispered a spell.

I sat up, and let my feet dangle off my bed, feeling the cold air nip at my exposed skin. The fire in my fireplace died out overnight, and so I could see puffs of my own breath cloud in front of me.

Mitch was perched in her usu spot, but her feathers were puffed out to stay warm. Her eyes were closed.

The Woods were coming over again. Mum always insisted on hosting Christmas celebrations.

Agh, I had promised to help my mom with preparations.

I could already hear the clattering of pots, pans and whatnot coming from downstairs.

I lazily got dressed, and went downstairs.

My mom's back was to me, and there was a large pot floating next to her and she herself was actively charming something to stir.

"Do you even need help?" I asked groggily.

"Yes, I need you to start charming decorations in the dining room." She responded without looking back at me; too engrossed in whatever she was preparing.

I sighed and dragged my feet out of the kitchen. Not even the good smells in the kitchen were really making me hungry. Since the break up I wasn't really in the mood to eat, nor was I feeling particularly hungry.

I did not love Vincent, this I knew for certain, but that was really helping. It was my first real relationship after all, even if there was no real love in it. And what about what happened between us? How must Vincent feel to be left right after he thought our relationship reached a peak?

There was a sort of selfish desire I harboured for him to come back to me and ask for me back. I wouldn't say yes, but maybe saying no again would make me feel better about my decision. Fucked up, isn't it? How the mind works sometimes...

I knew Vincent wouldn't come knocking at my door or calling for me ever again. His pride and chivalry would not let him. In the end, I was sure Vincent would agree with my decision.

My thoughts distracted me from my work and it seemed only moments flew by before the living room was warmly lit and well decorated.

The table was covered in a white cloth with beautiful gold trimmings on which tiny drawn horses were galloping. It was set with beautiful China dishes and silver cutlery. Candles floated around the table, and the fire softly crackled in the corner of the room.

"Wow Y/n," my mom walked in the room behind me, "Impressive work!"

"Thank you." I blushed, and she ruffled my hair.