The gymnasium was alive with the soft chaos of holiday preparations. Strings of twinkling fairy lights looped from rafters, casting a warm, golden glow over clusters of students weaving garlands and hanging ornaments with laughter and cheerful chatter. The sharp, piney scent of fresh wreaths mingled with the sweetness of cinnamon candles flickering on nearby tables.
Harriet stood carefully on a rickety ladder, draping a strand of delicate, shimmering lights along the high ceiling beams. The gentle hum of activity swirled around her, but her gaze often drifted downward toward Aura, who crouched by the bulletin board, meticulously pinning hand-cut paper snowflakes in symmetrical rows. The two girls moved around each other with a quiet familiarity, but the air between them was still tinged with an awkwardness neither had yet figured out how to dissolve.
Harriet carefully stepped down, brushing a stray lock of chestnut hair from her face. She folded her arms, her voice tentative but sincere. "Hey, Aura... have you thought about trying out for the girls' soccer team next year?"
Aura paused, her fingers lingering on the edge of a silver snowflake. Her expression flickered — surprise, hesitation, and something softer, vulnerable beneath it all. "Yeah.." she said, voice low and uncertain. "But, I'm not sure I'm good enough."
Harriet moved closer, her tone gentle, as if offering a lifeline. "I think you're better than you give yourself credit for. If you want, I could put in a good word with Coach — make sure she knows you're interested."
Aura's lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head, a stubborn set to her jaw. "No." she said quietly but firmly. "I don't want to get the spot just because of connections. I want to earn it... on my own."
Harriet nodded, understanding the quiet pride behind those words. "That's fair. I get it. But if you ever change your mind, I'm here."
For a long moment, neither spoke. Aura's gaze dropped to the floor, then she glanced up, eyes searching Harriet's face with something almost like hope mixed with uncertainty. "Do you think... do you think you and Harper will ever be close again?"
Harriet's chest tightened. Harper was a complicated subject — the sister Aura admired but also resented in ways neither wanted to admit aloud. Harriet hesitated, her voice soft, careful not to promise what she couldn't be sure of. "I don't know.." she admitted honestly. "But I want to try. For both of you."
Aura's expression softened into a tentative smile, a fragile bridge forming between them. "Maybe that's enough for now."
They returned to their decorating, the clink of ornaments and rustle of garlands filling the space between their words. The awkwardness lingered — a reminder of the distance they were still crossing — but beneath it lay a quiet hope: that maybe, this Christmas, they could begin to build something new.
The cafeteria hummed with the steady rhythm of lunchtime chatter and clattering trays, but in the corner by the tall window, Cody and Millie found their own little sanctuary. The afternoon sun filtered through frosted glass, casting a honey-gold glow that wrapped around them like a soft, protective blanket. Outside, bare tree branches swayed gently in the crisp December breeze, their skeletal shadows flickering across the polished floor.
Cody sat back in his chair, fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass as he watched Millie scroll through her phone, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips whenever their eyes met. There was a quiet ease between them, a comfortable silence that spoke louder than words ever could.
"I've been thinking about Christmas presents." Cody said at last, his voice low and gentle, meant only for her ears. "Trying to figure out the perfect gifts for everyone — you, my family... and everyone in between."
Millie looked up, her eyes sparkling in the golden light, and she reached across the table to lace her fingers with his. Her touch was light but grounding, a small reassurance against the swirl of holiday chaos. "You're always so thoughtful." she said softly.
"I'm sure whatever you choose will mean the world to them."
Cody's lips curved into a shy smile, and he squeezed her hand tenderly. "It's more than just the gifts. I want to show them that no matter how busy or messy life gets, they're seen. That they matter."
Millie's gaze softened as she studied him, warmth pooling in her chest. "That's why I love you. You have this way of making people feel... known."
He glanced out the window for a moment, watching a group of younger students laughing as they hurried by, bundled up in scarves and coats. "For Harriet, I was thinking something simple but meaningful. Maybe a new journal, with a nice glitter pens. Something to help her slow down — let her breathe when everything feels too much."
Millie nodded thoughtfully.
"And Aura..." Cody's voice dropped an octave, softening with tenderness. "She's into soccer, right? I thought maybe some new cleats, or a new sports bag — something practical, but also a way to say I'm paying attention."
Millie gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her eyes bright. "She'll love that!"
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the background noise of the cafeteria seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them cocooned in warmth and understanding.
"What about Harper?" Millie asked quietly, a hesitant softness in her voice.
Cody's smile faltered, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. "She's been difficult to read lately. I want her to know she's not alone, even if she acts like she doesn't need anyone. Maybe a photo album — something full of memories — or a playlist of songs she loves."
"What about Jackson?"
Cody chuckled, shrugging and tapping his fingertip against his phone. "Not sure with him, I'll have to think."
Millie's fingers traced a gentle line along his jaw, the touch intimate and reassuring. "You have a healing kind of love, Cody. It's one of the things I admire most about you."
He leaned into her touch, eyes closing briefly as if to savor the moment. "I just want this Christmas to be a time when we all feel a little more whole. Especially you."
Millie's breath caught, a shy, radiant smile blossoming on her lips. "You already make me feel that way."
They settled into a comfortable closeness, fingers intertwined, exchanging soft laughter and quiet dreams as the afternoon light deepened, spilling shadows that danced gently across the table.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Cody stood and pulled Millie gently to her feet. The warmth of his hand at her waist was steady and grounding as they moved toward the door.
"We'll get through everything." he murmured, voice low and certain. "Together."
Millie rested her head lightly against his shoulder, the softness of his presence a balm against the cold world outside.
"Together." she echoed, heart full and hope kindled bright.