A Billionaire For Christmas

The Fear Of Feeling

Julian’s POV:

When I finally finished the work piled on my desk, Fred’s words came back to me, louder and clearer than before.

“Open your heart. Find happiness this Christmas.”

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as the familiar ache in my chest resurfaced.

“How?”

How could I open my heart when it had been shut tight for so long? Ever since that Christmas when my grandmother passed, and long before that when my parents’ lives were stolen in that devastating accident.

The memories rushed in, uninvited.

I still pictured the crash - the mangled car, broken glass sparkling in the faint sunlight, and twisted metal that held my parents captive.

Their lifeless bodies remained etched in my mind, a haunting image

The sound of sirens echoed faintly in my ears, and I recalled the paramedics pulling me from the wreckage.

I was the only one who survived, the truck driver long gone from the scene. Years later, despite my efforts, the driver had never been caught.

The dash camera had been tampered with, its memory card missing. Justice had slipped away, leaving me with nothing but my rage and guilt.

Christmas had become a bitter reminder of all I’d lost. While others celebrated joy and togetherness, I felt hollow. What was there to celebrate? My family was gone, and I’d shut everyone else out.

I stood and walked to the large window in my office, gazing down at the city below.

Cars honked, their headlights weaving through the streets like fireflies, and Christmas lights adorned nearly every building. The city was alive with the season’s cheer, but I felt none of it.

Instinctively, I reached into my pocket and felt the small piece of paper Fred had handed me earlier Samantha’s number. I pulled it out and stared at it.

“Should I call her?”

The question lingered in my mind, but I didn’t have an answer. What would I even say?

“Hey, Samantha. It’s Julian. Remember me? The guy who ruined your night by showing up late and acting like a complete jerk? Want to try that again?”

I sighed heavily and ran a hand through my hair, sinking back into my chair. “There’s no way. She’d hang up on me the second she heard my voice.”

But something about her stuck with me. The fire in her eyes, the way she called me out without hesitation, was both infuriating and, strangely, intriguing.

She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met. She didn’t mince words or pretend to be impressed by me. She was... real.

I turned the piece of paper over in my hands, debating with myself.

“Why am I even considering this?” I muttered under my breath.

I placed the paper on my desk and leaned back, staring at it as if it were taunting me.

My chest tightened, frustration building inside me. I hated indecision, and yet here I was, unable to make a simple choice.

Finally, I stood abruptly, pacing the room. “If I call her and she rejects me, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like I’m expecting anything.”

But then the darker voice in my mind spoke up. “And if she doesn’t reject you? Then what? You’d have to let someone in. You’d have to feel something again. Are you ready for that?”

I stopped pacing and stared at the number one last time.

“No,” I said firmly to myself, crumpling the paper in my hand. “She’s better off without someone like me dragging her down. And I’m better off alone.”

But as I moved to toss the paper in the trash, my hand froze. A wave of doubt washed over me, and I found myself smoothing the crumpled piece of paper back out. I stared at the numbers, my chest tight with conflicting emotions.

I knew Fred was right. My life had become a never-ending cycle of work and solitude.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of truth to his words about miracles and Christmas.

With a heavy sigh, I slid the paper back into my pocket. “Not tonight,” I thought. “But maybe... someday.”

For now, I wasn't ready. But the possibility remained, a small spark of hope at the end of a difficult journey.

******

When I finished my work for the day, I grabbed my coat, shut down my computer, and switched off the office lights.

Locking the door behind me, I let out a tired sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on me.

Inside the elevator, the quiet hum of descending floors filled the space, and then, out of nowhere, my stomach growled loudly.

I frowned, realizing I hadn’t eaten much since lunch, a pathetic hamburger that barely counted as a meal. My body was reminding me that it needed proper fuel, and fast.