The garland came down in one violent yank.
The lights she’d wound carefully through the curtain rods were harder to unweave, until finally they too ripped free in a tangle of wire and bulbs.
Every decoration she’d displayed felt like an announcement of her own stupidity.
She grabbed the mason jar snow globe from the nightstand. For one intoxicating moment, she wanted to smash it, to watch it explode into glitter and glass and water.
Instead, she let it slip from her fingers and roll harmlessly across the bed.
All that work. And none of it—not one single piece of it—had been good enough for him.
Lauren stood among the wreckage, surrounded by torn garland and shredded ribbon. Her vision blurred.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Friends and family sending their Christmas messages. Her parents on their cruise, her colleagues on the group chat. Little reminders that other people cared. That to them, she mattered.
Lauren looked at the wedding ring on her finger. Gold, solid, familiar.
Mia’s shining face rose in her mind—Jake fastening the necklace around her neck, his eyes soft. The way her sister-in-law’s hand kept rising to touch it, again and again, unable to stop. The way Jake looked at her like she was priceless.
Laurenwasjealous of her after all. Bitterly, achingly jealous.
Jake had fastened a necklace around Mia’s neck; Tom had folded a quilt and put it away. One gesture was love. The other, dismissal.
Outside, the snow fell soundlessly, a white shroud over the world.
This was supposed to be the best day of the year.
Instead, it was the day Lauren’s world collapsed—quietly, beautifully, completely.
Lauren woke to silence.
Her hand reached instinctively for the familiar warmth of Tom's body, before her brain caught up. Cold sheets.
Over five years of waking up beside him. Over five years of that steady, reassuring presence.
She pressed her face into his pillow, breathing in the faint trace of his shampoo. Her chest ached with missing him—the weight of his arm around her waist, the way he’d pull her closer in his sleep.
She rolled onto her back, staring at the curtain rail where yesterday fairy lights had been strung.
Outside, the world was muffled with snow, soft and white and peaceful.
Maybe she’d overreacted. Maybe she’d misunderstood.
The quilt in his hands.
Her own voice—so bright, so eager—like a child showing off a school project.Do you recognize this? Remember that?
Heat rose in her cheeks even now, alone in the quiet room.
The way he’d set it aside.
Everyone had seen it. His parents. Jake. Mia.
They’d all seen that Tom was embarrassed by her.
She pressed her palms to her face.
She’d been so sure that she was making something wonderful. So sure he’d see the love sewn into every seam and feel?—
