its snowing when you pull into the driveway. not the delicate rom com kind of snow either. its the kind thats wet and heavy and makes you question every life choice that led you to this exact moment. which for you is standing on the porch of the house where your dad now lives with his new wife, denise. renees mom. yeah. that denise

she answers the door with a wide cozy smile and an 'oh honey, you made it!' like she hasnt been a key character in the most awkward subplot of your life

you step inside, cheeks already flushed from more than just the cold

“hey sweetheart” your dad, robert, calls from the kitchen. hes stirring something aggressively in a pot that smells like rosemary and guilt

the house looks warm and festive with lights everywhere, garlands on every flat surface, and nat king cole playing faintly in the background. its trying way too hard to feel normal

then you see renee leaning against the doorway to the den, arms crossed, messy bun, and hoodie that might be yours from five christmases ago. her eyes find yours instantly and something sharp catches in your chest

you dont hug or say hi, you just look at each other for a beat too long

its been two years since the breakup but only about two months since the last time you hooked up

you were together from seventeen to twenty three and youre both twenty five now. your parents always knew. they were supportive. they even knew each other already, your families went way back. you used to joke that your parents getting together would be so cursed then they actually did

a few months post breakup your dad started 'catching up' with denise at mutual friends dinner parties. what followed was one of the most surreal conversations of your life

“so.. denise and i are dating” your dad had said over pancakes

“are you fucking serious?” you asked, syrup halfway to your mouth

now theyre married and you and renee are stepsisters and now youve been forced to spend december 22nd through 27th under the same roof

you drop your bag in the guest room, formerly your childhood bedroom, now tastefully remodeled to match denises 'mid century hygge' pinterest board

all day you try avoiding renee and avoids you too. if you go to the kitchen, she goes upstairs. if you sit on the couch, she finds a reason to help denise. youre circling each other like two wild animals pretending youre domesticated and its just barely working

its 11:47 pm and you sneak into the kitchen for water and nearly crash into her doing the exact same thing

you both freeze and its dark except for the soft glow from the tree in the next room. eventually she speaks up first “you always drink water like its a heist”

“you always walk around like you dont have socks on in december”

she smirks and its still her. the same dimple in her left cheek and the same way she tilts her head when shes holding back something bigger but you cant go there. neither of you can go there

“you look good” she says suddenly like it just slipped out

you blink “dont”

“what?” her voice dips to a familiar, low, and dangerous tone

“you dont get to say that” you murmur, gripping the glass of water a little too hard

she steps closer "its just a compliment"

“no. its a reminder” you set the glass down “and ive been trying really hard not to be reminded of you”

for a moment you just stare at each other. its all still there. the want. the ache. the closeness you never really let go of. even now with a wall of forced family between you

she finally steps back “goodnight” she mumbles but it sounds a lot like dont leave and you dont reply. you just go back to bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering how the hell youre supposed to make it five more days without unraveling completely