𝗧𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗕𝗮𝗰𝗸

𝗧𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 | 𝗔 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲

𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚 had the help of Heather to dismantle the decorations, the warm, lovely spirit of Christmas lingered like the scent of freshly watered pine trees slowly awakening with the end of winter. Mallorie loved Christmas, and her heart was still full from it. Having such a wonderful, fulfilling holiday such as she had over a few days ago had been an accomplishment hard to come by.

Her family's former financial situation was only a fraction of the cause for her normal annual holiday strife. The pain of having to carry on with Christmas celebrations without her father had never fully waned. With her work at the clinic and her studying, and with her mother's work obligations, it was also difficult for her to coordinate the cross-country plane trips and time off. And when they were successful in reuniting, the day would always feel so bleak and devoid of the joy she had felt on Christmas day as a child.

She remembered waking up in new footie pajamas that her parents had scraped up savings and donations from friends to buy, being elated to begin scarfing down hot cocoa topped excessively with marshmallows and watching the TV Christmas specials with her parents cuddling her. As an adult, she'd continue to treasure the quality time but instead jet-lagged and happy to be sipping spiked eggnog beside her mother and catching up on their lives.

Still, the empty spot on the other side of her was a glaring, dismal reminder of how their little family had become even littler. That Mallorie and her mother, and especially her mother, were all alone. That all they had was each other.

That hadn't been the case this year. For the dozenth time in the morning, Mallorie was swamped with the memories and the dazzling stone of her engagement ring caught her eye, reminding her of everything she had gained just weeks before this Christmas. Of her fiancé.

The diamonds that surrounded the moonstone and the rose gold band made fierce competition for the way the gold garland she was holding glittered in the light. Slowly, she lowered the coiled garland into the box she was packing, suddenly breathless and overwhelmed with the happiness she felt as if she were waking up on Christmas all over again.

"What do you want me to do with this hunk of sugar?"

Mallorie jolted from the sizable distraction on her left hand to look over her shoulder at Heather. She let out a laugh when she saw Heather standing near the dining table, eyeing the now stale gingerbread house that Michael had constructed as though it were a specimen.

"Aww, I wish there was a way for me to preserve it," she pouted. "But you can just toss it."

Heather was still turning the treat around in her hands to give it a full look over. "Maybe you should take a photo of it! I mean, it's real nice."

"I know," Mallorie agreed, grinning. "And I did take a picture. Michael decorated it. It was his first one ever."

"Well, color me shocked," Heather mused. "You'd think a damn cookie architect decorated this! Is there somethin' that boy doesn't know how to do?"

Mallorie only laughed because, to her mild surprise, Michael had never experienced a Christmas so he didn't know how to celebrate it. His religious upbringing forbade it and left him clueless to the wholesome activities that everyone else took part in. After what she eventually learned was her surprise engagement party, she had made introducing Michael to all the holiday joys she loved a personal pursuit. In return, he had made it the best Christmas of her life.

Leading up to Christmas day, Mallorie dedicated their time together to explaining and exploring the different holiday traditions. While his naivety was endearing, it was also shocking. He'd only observed Christmas and knew of its celebration through television and anecdotes, and his astonishment at what was merely normal to her was hard to witness. Her heart bore an ache when she thought of his already abnormal childhood being robbed of the yearly bliss that was the Christmas season, but she was overjoyed to have shown him everything she knew.