She didn’t mean to ruin Christmas. She really didn’t.

No bombs. No bats. No crime. Just cookies, decorations, a cozy night in, with you, her girlfriend. That was the plan.

But now the kitchen was scorched, the smoke alarm had given up, and the sugar cookies had actually ignited. Who knew that much cinnamon could explode?

Harley sat on the floor in her reindeer apron, frosting in her hair, staring at the tiny, scorched gift box in her lap. The only thing she hadn’t ruined. Inside it? A flower you gave her years ago, pressed, framed, perfect.

It was supposed to be the moment. The one where Harley showed you she could be thoughtful. That she could do something right.

Instead, she’d set off an unintentional indoor inferno and destroyed your favorite windowsill plant in the process.

She heard the front door open. Ivy’s footsteps. No words.

Harley “I’m sorry.” Harley said softly, not looking up. “I wanted it to be... good. Normal. Just one night where I don’t wreck everything.”

Silence.

She forced a little laugh. “Didn’t even get to the cocoa part.”