Two Holidays, One Sin

Callie's POV

"Don't touch her."

The words didn't come loud. They didn't need to.

They cut through the room with frightening precision, sharp enough to still every movement like a blade pressed against skin.

Mara froze mid-motion, her hand still raised. Her fingers were curled as if she hadn't yet decided whether to strike or grab. 

Jenna stopped short beside me, breath hitching audibly. Even the house itself seemed to go quiet, like it was holding its breath.

I didn't turn. I didn't have to. I felt him behind me before I saw him. His presence wasn't loud or aggressive, it was firm and immovable. Like a wall had been placed between me and everything else.

"Dominic," Mara said, her voice shifting instantly. 

It became smoother and careful. "This isn't..."

"Step away from her."

Still calm. Still level. But I felt there was something underneath it now. Something cold.

Mara let out a small laugh that sounded forced, brittle. "You're overreacting. I was just..."

"You shoved her." He cut her words short.

His words landed heavier than hers had. They weren't an accusation. They were a statement.

I finally turned and I saw Dominic standing a few feet away. His posture was straight, and his shoulders squared. 

His gaze wasn't on me. It was locked on Mara with an unsettling intensity. His jaw was tight, his mouth set in a hard line. He looked... too controlled. The kind of restraint that came from effort, and not ease.

Mara scoffed. "She's fine."

"She will be," he said. "When you step back."

Something in his tone must have reached her, because her smile faded. 

Slowly and deliberately, she lowered her hand and took a step away from me. Her eyes flicked briefly to Jenna, then back to Dominic.

"This is unnecessary," she muttered.

Dominic didn't respond. Instead, his gaze shifted, briefly, and finally to me.

"Are you hurt?"

The question was direct.

I shook my head, though my hands were trembling. 

"No."

He nodded once. That was all. Then his attention returned to the room.

"Jenna," he said, without looking at her. "Go upstairs."

Jenna's head snapped up. "But dad..."

"Now."

His words weren't harsh. But it wasn't negotiable either.

She hesitated, glancing at me, clearly torn. I forced a small smile that felt wrong on my face. 

"I'm okay," I said to her, my tone was soft.

Her lips pressed together, but she nodded. "I'll be upstairs."

She shot Mara one last glare before turning and heading up the stairs, her footsteps quick and angry.

The moment the sound faded, the space felt too open and too exposed.

Dominic exhaled slowly. "Mara," he said. "We need to talk. Outside."

Mara crossed her arms. "I'm not the problem here."

His eyes hardened. "You crossed a line."

Her mouth opened, then closed. Whatever she saw on his face made her rethink whatever argument she'd planned.

"Fine," she snapped. "But don't pretend this isn't messy."

She brushed past him, deliberately close, her shoulder grazing his arm. But he didn't react. The door closed behind them, leaving the house in a strange, hollow silence.

I stood there alone. My legs felt weak, like they might fold beneath me at any second. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. Emotionally, like something fragile inside me had been dragged into the open without my consent.

He protected me. The thought came unbidden.

And right behind it, sharper, crueler: But he didn't choose me.

I didn't hear them arguing outside. Or maybe I did, but my mind refused to process it. I only became aware of the house again when the front door opened... and then closed.

A few minutes later, Dominic came back inside. He didn't look at me.

"I'll have a replacement sent for your laptop," he said, his voice measured. "I'm sorry about that."

"Oh," I replied faintly. "It's... it's fine."

He nodded, already turning away.

"Dominic." I called, my voice wavering.

He stopped and slowly, he turned back. His expression was unreadable now, the earlier edge smoothed away.

"I shouldn't have stayed," I said. The words tasted bitter. "I didn't mean to cause..."

"This isn't your fault," he interrupted.

The certainty in his voice surprised me. And it made my throat tighten.

"You should rest," he added, already stepping back. "If you need anything, let Jenna know."

And just like that, he walked away. Up the stairs. And away from me. I stood there long after he disappeared, staring at the empty space he'd left behind.

So that's it.

The afternoon passed more gently than I expected.

Jenna returned to the living room with exaggerated cheer, plopping down beside me on the couch like nothing had happened. Her legs tucked beneath me, a thick knitted blanket draped over both of us.

She put on a ridiculous Christmas movie, one of those overly bright, overly cheerful ones with predictable endings, and made commentary so loud and dramatic I couldn't help but laugh.

"You know," she said, kicking her feet up on the coffee table, "if I ever disappear mysteriously during the holidays, it's because one of these movies finally snapped me."

I smiled. "I'll tell the authorities where to look."

She grinned. "Good." Then we fell silent, still watching the movie.

After a while, Jenna snorted. "If a man ever shows up at my door in the snow with a speech like that, I'm calling the police."

I smiled, though my eyes stayed on the screen. "You wouldn't even let him finish."

"Absolutely not. Romance is fine, but dramatic monologues in bad weather are a red flag."

She nudged my knee with hers. "You okay, though? Like... really okay."

I hesitated just long enough for her to notice.

"I'm fine," I said, softer now. "Just tired."

She studied me for a second, then nodded. "Okay. But if you need to scream into a pillow later, I have extras."

"Thanks. That's very reassuring." I said, and a smile popped up on my face. 

My phone buzzed in my hand before I could say more.

'Mum.'

I glanced at the screen, then back at Jenna. "It's my mum."

"Take it," she said immediately. "Tell her I'm keeping you fed and alive."

I stood and moved toward the dining room, sinking into the chair near the window. Snow drifted lazily outside, coating the street in white.

"Hi, Mum."

"Oh, Callie," she said warmly. "There you are."

Her voice wrapped around me in a way nothing else had all day.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently. "Are you settling in?"

"Yes," I replied easily. Too easily. "I'm good. Jenna's been... Jenna."

I heard her laugh softly. "That girl hasn't changed a bit."

She asked about the trip. About the cold. About whether I was eating properly. About Jenna. About Christmas plans. I answered easily, smoothly, slipping into the version of myself that said all the right things.

"I am," I promised. "Jenna won't allow it otherwise."

"Good." Then, quieter, more careful: "And you? You're really okay?"

I looked down at my hands, twisting my fingers together.

"I am," I said again. "Really."

There was a pause. Then, faintly, I heard another voice in the background.

"Mum, is that Callie?"

My chest tightened instantly.

"Lena?" I breathed.

"Yes!" my mother laughed. "She's been asking for you."

"Switch it to video," Lena said urgently. "I want to see her."

My mother hesitated. "Callie, is that...?"

"Yes," I said quickly, cutting her off. "Please."

The screen shifted, the call reconnecting. Suddenly, my sister's face filled the screen.

Lena looked tired, but glowing. Her hair was pulled back messily, dark circles beneath her eyes, but she was smiling so brightly it made my throat ache.

"Hey," she said softly. "There you are."

"Hi," I whispered, emotion rising unexpectedly. "You look... incredible."

She laughed. "That's exhaustion and hormones talking."

The camera tilted slightly, and then...

"Oh my God." My breath caught.

A tiny bundle lay cradled against her chest with soft skin, and closed eyes. A shock of dark hair.

"Callie," Lena said proudly, "meet Noah."

Tears blurred my vision instantly.

"He's beautiful," I said, my voice breaking. "He's so perfect."

"I know," she replied, eyes shining. "He looks like Dad, apparently."

I laughed through the tears. "I haven't seen it yet."

"You will," Mum chimed in from behind the camera. "He has the same frown."

The screen shifted again as Lena adjusted Noah slightly, angling the camera so I could see his tiny fingers curling and uncurling.

"He's so small," I murmured.

"And heavy," Lena said dryly. "No one warns you about that part."

I heard movement behind me.

"Is that a baby?" Jenna gasped dramatically.

I turned, smiling. "Jenna, this is my nephew, Noah."

Jenna practically sprinted over, squeezing onto the chair bedside me. "Oh my God, he's gorgeous."

Lena laughed. "He really is. Thank you for housing my sister."

"The pleasure is mine," Jenna said proudly. "I demand visitation rights."

Mum chuckled. "You'll have to fight me for them."

They talked easily then, about names, sleepless nights, how Noah already had a stubborn streak. Jenna told a dramatic story about once babysitting a child who outwitted her at age four.

For a while, I just listened, watched, and felt. Warmth filled my chest. A soft, aching kind. 

This... this was what I'd been missing. Family. Continuity. Life moving forward even when mine felt stuck.

"I wish you were here," Lena said suddenly, her voice gentler now.

"So do I," I admitted.

"But we'll see you soon," Mum said firmly. "This is just for now."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

The call ended eventually, full of promises and blown kisses.

When the screen went dark, I sat there quietly.

Jenna leaned her head against mine. "You're going to be the best aunt."

I smiled, blinking away lingering tears. "I hope so."

And for a brief moment, just a brief one, I felt whole.

For the rest of the evening, Dominic never came downstairs. Not even once.

Evening crept in quietly. Jenna eventually headed out to meet Sam, promising she'd be back late. I waved her off with a smile that felt stretched thin.

I showered longer than necessary, letting the hot water wash over me until my skin tingled. When I stepped out, the mirror was fogged, my reflection was blurred and indistinct.

Good, I thought. I don't want to look too closely right now.

I pulled on a loose nightdress, towel-dried my hair halfway, and padded back to my room. Water dripped steadily from the ends of my hair, darkening the tiles beneath my feet.

I was halfway through brushing it when a knock sounded at the door.

"Yeah?" I called, distracted.

The knock came again.

Jenna, I assumed. She never waited.

I dropped the brush and crossed the room, tugging the towel loosely around my shoulders as I opened the door.

And I froze. Dominic stood there.

His gaze dropped instinctively, then snapped away just as quickly. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't realise you were..."

"It's fine," I blurted. "I thought you were Jenna."

Silence stretched between us. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

"I wanted to apologise," he said finally. "For... earlier."

My heart skipped.

"Oh," I said. "You don't have to."

"I do."

He hesitated, then continued. "Mara's behaviour was unacceptable. It won't happen again."

I nodded. "Okay. It's fine, I wasn't hurt."

"And," he added, his voice was quieter now, "about last night. The storage room. That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have kissed you."

My mouth opened before my brain caught up.

"It was good..." 

I stopped. I felt heat creep to my face. 

"I mean, it was just... the weather. Or the cold. Or..."

I laughed weakly, but the sound died quickly. But his jaw tightened.

"I didn't mean..." I tried again, stuttering. "It's not something I'm thinking about. It was just a kiss."

A lie, my mind whispered.

"Just... not a bad one," I added automatically.

Silence.

Oh no.

I clamped my mouth shut, mortified. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."

He looked at me then. For a long while. And I noticed something shifted behind his eyes.

"This can't happen," he said quietly.

"I know," I replied too fast. "I wasn't suggesting.."

"You need to be careful," he continued, voice gentle but firm. "This isn't something you should be encouraging."

Encouraging. I repeated in my head, the word stinging me in my chest.

"I wasn't," I whispered.

He nodded, though I wasn't sure he believed me. "I should go."

He stepped back. Relief and disappointment tangled painfully in my chest.

"Goodnight, Callie."

"Goodnight."

I turned to close the door, my foot sliding...

"Ah." A soft gasp escaped my lips.

The floor vanished beneath me. And cold rushed up my spine as I lost my balance, my thoughts scattering wildly.

I bruise easily.

This is going to hurt.

And then... I fell.