It was somehow Christmas already. The year had flown by so quickly, slipping past me like water through fingers. It was as if I blinked and the calendar had skipped straight to the 25th, leaving me to marvel at how much had changed—and how much remained the same.
The house smelled of pine and cinnamon, a comforting mix that contrasted sharply with the metallic stench of prison I’d carried in my memory for far too long. Lights twinkled on the tree, reflecting in Orion’s curious eyes as he batted at dangling ornaments with clumsy enthusiasm. Marjorie hummed softly in the kitchen, stirring something that smelled like freshly baked cookies, and I felt a warmth in my chest I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years.
I sank into the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs, and watched my littl
