Chapter Two
1222 Words
Noelle.✿
Five years later.
"Did you pack the green dress? You know, the one with the lace sleeves?"
I sighed, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I stuffed another sweater into the suitcase. "Yes, Mom. For the fifth time, I packed everything you asked me to."
"Good. And don’t forget your daughter’s Christmas outfit. She’s going to look adorable in the family photos! Oh, and please, please don’t be late for dinner this year. You know how your stepfather gets when people aren’t punctual."
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the sharp comment lingering on my tongue. "Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll be there on time,”
Stepfather. The word still felt strange
It wasn’t that I hated her new husband—he seemed fine enough when I met him that one time—but I still didn’t feel comfortable with the whole situation. I hadn’t even been to their house since they got married, and I wasn’t thrilled about spending Christmas there.
And don’t get me started on his son. The infamous stepbrother I had yet to meet. He didn’t even show up for the wedding, which, in my book, was the ultimate slap in the face. Mom had made excuses for him, but I wasn’t buying it. I’d already decided he wasn’t worth my time, even if I didn’t know a damn thing about him.
Mom’s voice softened. “It’s been too long since we’ve all been under the same roof for Christmas. I can’t wait to see you two.”
I glanced at my daughter, who was lying on the bed, flipping through a picture book. Her curly brown hair fell into her face as she hummed to herself, completely oblivious to the chaos of packing. My heart clenched, as it always did, at the sight of her.
She was a reminder of that night.
The night that changed everything.
"I’ll see you soon," I said quickly, hanging up before Mom could add anything else.
***
At the airport, my daughter was buzzing with excitement. It was her first time flying, and she clung to my hand as we boarded the plane.
“Mommy, are we almost there?” she asked, her big gray eyes peeking over the edge of the window seat.
“Almost,” I said, brushing a stray curl from her face.
The thought of introducing her to Mom’s new family made me feel uneasy.
I didn’t know these people—not really.
And I wouldn't want my daughter being bullied into thinking she was less than.
And until I was sure they were safe, there was no way I was taking any chances with my daughter.
With that I resolved to drop her off at my best friend’s place.
Till I was sure of my stance in my mom's house.
Mily wouldn't mind.
Right?
“You’re a lifesaver,” I sighed, putting on my best puppy dog face as I stood the doorway with my suitcase and my daughter at my side.
“You know I don’t mind,” my best friend said, grinning as she knelt to greet my daughter. “Come on in, sweetheart. We’ve got hot cocoa, cookies, and Frozen queued up, just for you.”
Amaya's eyes lit up, and she glanced up at me for approval.
“Go ahead,” I said, nudging her forward.
She bounded inside, her tiny curls bouncing as she made a beeline for the stack of board games on the coffee table.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked again, lowering my voice. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Of course it’s okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “You don’t trust this new family of your mom’s, and I don’t blame you. You’re doing the right thing.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thanks. I just… I don’t know what to expect. I’ve only met her husband once, and his son didn’t even bother to show up to the wedding. Who does that?”
“An asshole,” she said bluntly.
I laughed. “Exactly. And until I know for sure that my daughter won’t be surrounded by assholes, I’d rather keep her here.”
She smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “You’re a good mom, you know that?”
“I’m trying,” I whispered, more to myself.
There are times I doubt if I really am the right example for my daughter.
***
When I arrived at Mom’s new house, the sight of it took me by surprise.
It looked nothing like the home I grew up in. The decorations were meticulously done, almost unbelievable.
The lights were arranged in color profiles and the wreath on the door perfectly centered.
It didn’t feel like her house— mom was simple.
It felt like…. someone else’s.
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, my knuckles resting on the door.fir a while, I was really torn between going in and making an excuse for not showing up.
It's been 5 years since I last saw mom— well, except you count the video calls.
She hadn't even met Amaya in person.
I had to do this— a few days wouldn't hurt.
I clutched the strap of my bag tighter, like it was lifeline before landing a knock on the door.
The door swung open almost immediately, and my breath caught in my throat.
There he was.
A gasp escaped my lips.
Time had been too kind to him.
His dark hair was shorter now, but the same piercing gray eyes stared back at me, widening in recognition. He was taller than I remembered—or maybe it was the way he filled out the doorway, his broad shoulders framed by the soft glow of the Christmas lights behind him.
“Mikhail,” I heard my mom's voice call from somewhere inside the house. “Who’s at the door?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk, that same infuriatingly confident expression I hadn’t been able to forget for five years.
“You must be…”
I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, Mom appeared, her arms open wide.
“There she is!” she exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much!”
I hugged her back, still dazed. When she pulled away, she gestured toward the man standing awkwardly to the side.
“Oh! I totally forgot. This is Mikhail, your stepbrother I kept telling you about.”
Stepbrother.
The word hit me like a truck.
I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest as his smirk grew wider— like he was enjoying this.
“Mikhail,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Nice to meet you, sis” he said, his tone casual, while my face looked like I had just seen a ghost.
Mom beamed, pulling my cheeks and taking the bag from. “Well, come on in! Dinner’s almost ready.”
As I stepped inside, he— Mikhail held the door open for me, the intensity of his gaze making my skin crawl.
It shouldn’t have happened. But it did.
And now, five years later, it was happening all over again.
- Writer
