Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 54

The morning light streams through the window, yet its warmth does nothing to warm me, so I pull the sheet closer to my chilled body. As I slowly open my eyes, I glance to the other side of the bed, finding it empty and cold. Sitting up, I rest my back against the headboard, somehow feeling a little more uplifted than usual when remembering the day's significance.

Shortly after I rise from the bed, I venture out of the room, the faint noises coming from downstairs drawing me in. Michael stands beside the recently assembled Christmas tree, engaged in conversation with one of the housekeepers, while displaying a proud grin on his face. Once he senses my presence, he turns to face me, examining me from head to toe.

"You look rough," he remarks, causing me to pull my nightgown closer to my body, hiding myself from his scrutinizing gaze.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I mumble as he approaches me.

"Merry Christmas, honey." His arms envelopes my shoulder and his lips press to my temple. I struggle to suppress the urge to push him away, having to endure this humiliation. "Shall we open the gifts now?"

"Open what?" I ask cluelessly. With a laugh, he steps aside, revealing a plethora of presents beneath the towering Christmas tree.

"Oh, right. Yes, sure," I reply, moving toward the pile of gifts. Expressing gratitude after gratitude, unwrapping one gift after another, time slips away, and I end up with an entirely new collection of clothes, jewelry, bags, and anything else someone could ever want.

Despite the specific festive atmosphere that comes along with this holiday, I can't shake the feeling that everyone's living in a snow globe of joyous interactions while I'm an outsider, yearning to partake but feeling incapable of doing so.

"You don't seem thrilled," Michael observes all of a sudden, likely noticing my silence.

"I am. Thank you." I manage to smile, though it barely reaches my eyes. The gifts are lovely, yet they fall short of igniting true happiness within me.

Though unconvinced by my words, he brushes it off, turning around and picking up a small wrapped-up box I haven't noticed until then. "There's also this," he says, handing it over. "Save the best for last, right?" His gaze is fixed on me, awaiting my reaction. I unravel the bow and lift the lid of the small box that fits in the palm of my hand.

"It's a car. For you. Brand new," he announces, and I feel the cold, metallic logo branded on the keys as I run my fingertips over them. "You haven't used your car in a while, so I thought you didn't like it anymore."

"Oh." I haven't realized how long it's been since I last was behind the wheel, but it makes sense considering how motivated I've been to do anything in the past weeks. "It's not that I don't like it, it's just..." My words trail off, the true reason being one I can't divulge. He's everywhere, making it difficult to engage in activities we once enjoyed together, knowing he's never going to be by my side again. "Thank you for this." I smile and actually feel grateful for this gift, as spoiled and entitled as this sounds. Although a perfectly good vehicle is in the garage, this car represents a space solely mine, untouched by anyone else's presence or absence.