THE PEACEFUL CAROL

3. TENSION

Sarah

I went downstairs after composing myself.

The tension was palpable as our families gathered in the living room. My favorite holiday scent was in the air: cinnamon rolls and fresh pine mingled with the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the fireplace. I sat beside Matthew on the couch as our parents chattered about their day and were excited about Matthew's first place. Simon, Matthew's dad, broke the casual pace of the conversation.

"So, Matthew, are you thinking of entering the regional competition next month?" his father asked, his tone brimming with curiosity and expectation. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes fixed on his son.

Matthew shifted in his seat, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. He glanced at me, then at his mother, before finally addressing the group.

"Actually, I meant to talk to you all about something."

The room fell silent. Even the crackle of the fireplace seemed to quiet as all eyes turned to him. My heart skipped a beat, sensing the gravity of what he was about to say.

"I've decided to apply for a figure skating program," Matthew began, his voice steady. "At Angels of Plushenko, in Moscow."

A collective gasp filled the room. My chest tightened with tons of thoughts racing inside my head. I turned to him, probably with the same face everyone had on their face, a mix of surprise and confusion.

"Moscow?" his father repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Matthew, there are plenty of excellent schools here in the country. There's no need to go so far."

Matthew squared his shoulders, meeting his father's gaze. "I know, Dad, but the training there is unmatched. If I'm going to make a real career out of this, I need the best education I can get."

His father's expression darkened, the weight of the words visibly sinking in. "You don't think I'm good enough to train you anymore?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. Matthew's father had been his coach since he first laced up a pair of skates.

"It's not that," Matthew replied quickly, a note of guilt creeping into his tone. "You've done so much for me; I'll always be grateful. But this isn't about us. It's about my future."

His mother placed a calming hand on her husband's arm.

"We can discuss this later," she said softly, her eyes darting to me and her family. She was clearly uncomfortable with the growing tension.

Matthew hesitated, then dropped the next bombshell. "I've already applied," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I don't know if it was only for me, but the room became as cool as ice. My mom, sensing my rising emotions, clapped her hands together.

"Why don't we take a break and decorate the Christmas tree?" she suggested, her tone overly bright.

The group moved into action, though the atmosphere remained heavy.

Matthew's father stayed quiet, his jaw set, while his mother busied herself with untangling a string of lights. I avoided Matthew's gaze, my mind swirling with emotions I couldn't yet name.

As we worked on the tree, the ladder to place the star on top was nowhere to be found. My father used it in the business and left it there.

Matthew broke the silence by crouching down in front of me.

"Hop on," he said with a small smile.

I blinked. "What?"

"I'll lift you so you can put the star on," he explained. Before I could protest, he hoisted me onto his shoulders with ease.

A ripple of laughter finally broke the tension as I wobbled slightly before steadying myself. I carefully placed the star atop the tree, the room erupting into applause as the lights reflected off its surface. When Matthew set me down, our eyes met briefly, and I felt my heart flutter despite the lingering unease.

Just as our families began to wind down for the evening, a knock sounded at the door. My mom went to answer it, revealing a middle-aged woman holding a beautifully decorated cake and a tall boy standing beside her with a second cake in hand. The woman's warm smile contrasted with the young man's striking features.

"Hello," the woman said cheerfully. "We're your new neighbors. I'm Evelyn, and this is my son, Lucas."

"Hello. It's lovely to meet you guys. Thank you. Come in, and let's share this delicious beauty." My mom welcomed them inside and introduced them to everyone. As the group exchanged pleasantries, Lucas's eyes found me. He walked directly to me with a gorgeous smile and extended a hand.

"Hi," he said, his voice smooth. "I'm Lucas. It's nice to meet you."

I froze, taken aback by his directness. My cheeks flushed as I stammered a reply, but Matthew stepped forward before I could fully respond.

"I'm Matthew," he said, his tone polite but firm, his gaze steady as he looked Lucas up and down. The unspoken message was clear, and Lucas's smile faltered slightly.

The tension between them was unmistakable, leaving me caught in the middle. As the night wore on, unresolved emotions lingered, promising more to come.

As the new neighbors settled in and shared slices of their beautifully decorated cakes, Evelyn began asking questions about the area. She, Alena, and my mom quickly bonded over recipes and holiday traditions, filling the room with lively chatter. However, Lucas focused on me, asking about school, hobbies, and holiday plans.

Matthew stayed close by, his body language protective, though he tried to remain cordial. I felt the weight of their unspoken rivalry, unsure how to navigate the sudden attention, because Matthew answered every question I received from Lucas.

"So, Sarah, do you skate as well?" Lucas asked, his interest genuine.

"Not competitively," I replied, glancing at Matthew. "But I've spent enough time at the rink to pick up a few moves."

"She's being modest," Matthew interjected, his tone light but pointed. "She's pretty good."

Lucas raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Maybe you can show me sometime. I'd love to see what you can do."

I laughed nervously, caught between the two. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for an audience," I said, trying to defuse the moment.

The evening stretched on, with both families sharing stories and laughter. Despite the underlying tension, the holiday spirit prevailed. By the time the new neighbors left, promising to stop by again soon, the atmosphere had lightened considerably.

After they were gone, I lingered by the fireplace, staring at the glowing embers. Matthew joined me, his expression pensive.

"You, okay?" he asked softly.

I nodded, though my thoughts were anything but settled. "Just thinking about everything," I admitted. "It's been a lot tonight."

Matthew hesitated, then reached for my hand. "We'll figure it out," he said. "Together."

I looked up at him, my heart swelling with uncertainty and hope. As the glow of the Christmas lights reflected in his eyes, I found myself clinging to his words, hoping they were enough to carry me through whatever came next. But I knew that was not going to happen.

....

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