Beneath the mistletoe

chapter 5

The family was having so much fun that they lost truck of time, "Omg" Karen shouted alarming everyone "the fundraiser we totally forgot look at time we are going to be late. " Everyone stared at her before breaking into laughter.

The Gray family bustled around the house, loading donations into the car and ensuring everything was ready for the event. Emily’s paintings, carefully wrapped in protective paper, leaned against the wall near the door, waiting to be delivered.

“Emily, are you ready? We are already late.” Karen called from the hallway, her voice slightly strained with urgency.

“I think I’m going to stay behind for now,” Emily replied quietly, standing in the kitchen with a cup of tea clutched in her hands.

Her mom appeared in the doorway, concern etched across her face. “Are you sure, sweetheart? This is a big step for you, and everyone’s going to love your work.”

Emily forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll come by later. I just… I need a little time.”

Karen hesitated, then nodded, giving her daughter’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving. Soon, the house was quiet, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

Emily exhaled deeply, her gaze drifting to the snow-covered yard outside. The house felt too big, too empty. This was her first Christmas without Julian, and no matter how hard she tried to focus on the positives her family’s love, her art, it was impossible to ignore the ache in her chest.

The memories came unbidden: decorating their tiny apartment together, the way he used to hum Christmas carols under his breath, the smell of his cologne lingering on her favorite scarf. Those moments, though tainted by the eventual pain he caused, had once felt so real, so full of love.

Now they felt like shards of glass embedded in her heart.

Emily sat down at the dining table, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She hated that he still had this power over her, that even after everything he’d done, a part of her still missed the version of him she thought she knew it was a norm in her life.

She didn’t hear the front door open or the sound of footsteps approaching until a voice broke through her thoughts.

“Hey, Emily?”

Startled, she looked up to see Luca standing in the doorway, a hint of hesitation in his posture.

“I, uh, forgot my phone charger and my phone went of so I came to pick it up ,” he said, holding up the cord as if to justify his presence. But his eyes were fixed on her tear streaked face. “Are you okay?”

Emily quickly wiped at her cheeks, forcing a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… allergies.”

Luca raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He stepped further into the room, his gaze soft but steady. “Allergies..... Do I look like a child? it's okay if you don't want to tell me, just say it's personal.... but if you don't I'll tell everyone I found you crying.”

Emily hesitated, her defenses wavering under the weight of his sincerity. “It’s nothing, really. Just… memories.”

Luca pulled out a chair and sat across from her, his movements slow and deliberate, as if to give her space to retreat if she needed it. “Memories of Julian?”

She nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “It’s my first Christmas without him. And as awful as things were at the end, there were times when… when it wasn’t. When it felt good you know... wait.. how do you know about Julian.”

Luca leaned back slightly, giving her his full attention. “Xander used to go on about how he's sister married a d**k whenever he got drunk... Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good listener.”

Emily hesitated again, but the warmth in his expression the genuine care made her feel safe enough to continue.

“We used to have these little traditions,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “We’d stay up late on Christmas Eve, watching old Christmas movies you know the ones that ended with the guy getting the girl and eating way too many cookies. He used to make this terrible hot chocolate he would always add way too much cinnamon but I loved it because it was ours. You know? Those moments, they felt like love. At least that was what I felt was love.”

Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Luca said softly. “Take your time.”

Emily swallowed hard, her tears flowing freely now. “I don’t miss him. Not the person he turned into. But I miss… what I thought we had. I miss believing in it. And now I feel so heartbroken sometimes I feel like I've moved on but on others I feel sad and lonely.”

Luca leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “That’s not something to be ashamed of. You loved him, Emily. And even though he didn’t treat you the way you deserved, that doesn’t make your feelings any less real. You gave your heart out to someone, that's brave.”

She looked at him, surprised by the understanding in his tone. “How do you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Say exactly what I need to hear.”

Luca chuckled softly. “I’ve had my share of heartbreak. It teaches you to listen.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her emotions settling between them. Then Luca glanced at the corner of the room, where a stack of Emily’s paintings rested against the wall.

“Can I see one?” he asked.

Emily hesitated. Her art was deeply personal especially the ones he wanted to see, a reflection of everything she’d been through. But something about Luca’s presence made her want to share it with him.

“Okay,” she said quietly, standing to retrieve one of the canvases.

She chose a piece she’d finished recently a swirling mix of blues and grays, with sharp streaks of black cutting through the center. The colors were moody and chaotic, reflecting the storm inside her.

Luca studied it for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. “This is incredible,” he said finally.

“Really?” Emily asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Absolutely,” Luca said, his gaze never leaving the painting. “It’s raw. Honest. It feels like loneliness, but also strength. Like you’re trying to find your way through the darkness.”

Emily’s breath caught in her throat. She had poured so much of herself into that painting, and hearing him describe it with such precision made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“That’s exactly what it is,” she whispered.

Luca looked up at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You have a gift, Emily. And the fact that you’re willing to put your pain into your art that’s brave. Most people run from it.”

She felt her cheeks flush, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from something deeper something that felt like hope.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Luca leaned back in his chair, his expression turning serious. “You know, it’s okay to grieve what you lost. Even if it wasn’t perfect, it was still a part of your life. But you’re more than that, Emily. I might not know as well but I think You’re stronger than you think.”

His words settled over her like a warm blanket, soothing the raw edges of her heart.

“Maybe I am,” she said, a small smile playing at her lips.

Luca smiled back, and for a moment, the world outside the kitchen seemed to fade away.