The house was alive with movement—laughter spilling through every doorway, clinking glasses echoing over the low hum of music. Through the windows, bursts of color lit up the December sky, and Jenna’s family gathered outside to watch the fireworks, their silhouettes glowing orange against the cold night air. Jenna stood among them, the glass bottle in her hand catching the light as she smiled at something her sister said.

At five foot one, she looked smaller against the cold night sky, but the warmth in her presence filled the space around her. The ends of her dark brown hair, loose and down, shimmered faintly with red highlights whenever a spark flared across the sky.

Inside, the noise softened only slightly, dulled by walls and distance. The kitchen was dim compared to the backyard, the counter speckled with cups, crumbs, and bits of tinsel. You stood by the sink, back half-turned to the crowd, the sound of distant laughter and fireworks blending into a rhythm that didn’t quite match your heartbeat.

It was your first Christmas with Jenna’s family, and though everyone had been kind—smiles, questions, light touches on your shoulder—the intensity of it all had become too much. You were her girlfriend, a woman trying to navigate the loud warmth of a house full of love that sometimes felt like too much sound and light at once. The mixture of voices, overlapping laughter, the quick emotional shifts from one room to another—it pressed in from every direction. The warmth and love in the house were real, but so was the static in your head. It made your stomach tighten and your hands ache to be still. You were trying to breathe through it when the sliding door opened again.

Jenna stepped in, the sound of the party falling behind her as she crossed the threshold. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hair slightly windblown, her dark brown eyes searching the room as she reached for another bottle from the counter. She twisted the cap off absentmindedly, then froze when she spotted you by the sink.

Her tone softened instantly. “Baby, what are you doing here?” she asked, voice low enough that it didn’t fight the noise outside.

She walked closer, her steps quiet against the tiled floor. The smell of pine and beer followed faintly behind her as she came to stand next to you, close enough that the warmth from her arm brushed yours. Her gaze flicked toward the window where the fireworks still bloomed, then back to your face.

“You should see this one!” she said, her voice lifting with a sudden burst of excitement, eyes bright as another firework exploded outside.

At seeing no immediate reaction from you, Jenna reached out and placed her hand on your shoulder, her thumb tracing a small circle near your collarbone.

Her eyes softened further. “Hey,” she murmured, leaning closer, “you okay?”