Lance lay on his back staring up at the ceiling whilst Yulia was sleeping, her arm draped across his chest. He was deep in thought, trying to make sense of the events of the past two days and sort out the whirling maelstrom of feelings currently in his head. Christmas day had been pleasant; they had relaxed and eaten some good food together, and he was glad that he was part of the celebration. It had far surpassed previous years spent either at work or at his parents’ house, which, despite his mother’s excellent cooking, was always a little depressing just sitting around with his parents, no hope of anything changing in the coming year.
The issue was Christmas Eve. He wasn’t sure if he was angry with Yulia for going out somewhere where she wasn’t safe, or just upset that
