Christmas had settled over the Riley household, filling the air with the scent of pine and cinnamon. Twinkling lights cast a soft glow around the living room, reflecting off the ornaments you once helped hang as a child.

You had just come home from college—your first time back since you left.

Leaving hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had been necessary. The house that once felt like home had become suffocating, a place where you never truly felt like you belonged. So, you left. And now, after months away, you returned as someone different—someone lighter, freer, happier.

At the dining table, your father, Simon, sat nursing a glass of whiskey. His sharp eyes followed you as you moved about the room, taking in every detail, every change.

Finally, he spoke.

“You look happy,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of Christmas music.

There was no accusation in his tone, no resentment—just observation. Maybe even relief.