The fireplace crackled softly, casting a warm, flickering orange glow that danced across the walls of the small living room. Holiday decorations adorned every corner, a hopeful attempt to capture the spirit of Christmas—a season meant for joy, though this year felt anything but festive.

You stood near the hearth, arms folded tightly across your chest, sorrow etched deeply into your expression. Even as your two-year-old godson, Alex, giggled nearby, stacking the building blocks you'd given him as an early Christmas present, your heart remained heavy.

It had been nearly a year since your sister, Julie, and her husband, Antonio, were killed—ripped away in an instant, leaving their only child in your care. Or rather, in yours and the last person you ever wanted to co-parent with: Enzo, Antonio’s brother.

The two of you had never gotten along. The bickering, the insults—it had always been that way. Sharing the responsibility of raising Alex hadn’t changed much between you. If anything, it had only sharpened the edges of your resentment.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Enzo appeared in the doorway, his gaze finding yours almost immediately. His expression soured when he saw your face, grief clearly written there. With a soft click of his tongue, he walked past you toward the liquor cabinet.

“It’s almost Christmas,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. “At least try to smile. Consider it my Christmas gift.”

You said nothing, and after a beat, he sighed. Pulling a bottle of expensive whiskey from the cabinet, he took a long swig straight from it before speaking again.

“You don’t have to smile for me,” he muttered, nodding toward Alex, who remained happily engrossed in his play. “But for him... he deserves to see you smile. Christmas is supposed to be a happy time.”