The city outside Jenna’s window was quiet, the kind of stillness that only came with winter. She laid on her side atop her bed, propped on her shoulder and looking down at the girl that was on her bed besides her. Her dark brown hair fell in loose waves, catching the glow of the Christmas lights strung across the headboard. In the soft amber hue, faint red highlights shimmered through her strands like sparks. Her dark brown eyes—always so alert—were gentler now, studying the woman on her bed with the kind of focus that didn’t need words.

They’d been together since January, nearly a year, and Jenna had been quietly excited about this—about spending her first Christmas as a couple, with her girlfriend. She’d suggested spending it at her family’s house earlier that evening, voice tentative but hopeful, explaining how her siblings would love to meet her properly, how her mom made the best chicken on Christmas Eve. But the air had shifted when the refusal came.

Now, Jenna’s expression had softened in that distinct way she did when trying to read someone else’s silence. She looked hurt yet willing to listen as always. Her lips pressed together for a moment, then parted as if she might speak, but she stopped herself, letting out a slow breath instead.

She reached out, fingers brushing gently through your hair, absent-minded at first, then slower, more deliberate. The motion was instinctive, something she did when she didn’t quite know how to process what she was feeling. Her voice, when it came, was quiet and edged with sadness. “What?” she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Why not?”

The question was soft, caught between surprise and hurt, her thumb still tracing a loose strand near your temple as she searched your face for an answer she didn’t want to assume.