Christmas morning arrived quietly.
Soft winter sunlight filtered through the curtains of Lillian's childhood bedroom.
For a few moments after waking up, she simply stared at the ceiling.
Listening.
The distant sound of Christmas music drifted up from downstairs.
She could hear movement in the kitchen.
Caroline was already awake.
Probably making breakfast.
Thomas was likely trying to help and somehow making things more complicated.
The familiar sounds should have felt comforting.
And they did.
A little.
But there was still an ache in her chest that refused to leave.
Lillian slowly sat up.
A hand unconsciously moved to her stomach.
The gesture had become natural over the past few days.
The doctor's confirmation still felt surreal.
A month along.
Pregnant.
The words still didn't feel entirely real.
A small wave of nausea rolled through her stomach.
Not enough to send her rushing anywhere.
Just enough to remind her.
She sighed softly.
Then climbed out of bed.
Downstairs smelled like cinnamon and coffee.
Caroline was standing by the stove while Thomas attempted to help set the table.
Attempted being the important word.
"You put the forks on the wrong side again."
"They're forks, Caroline."
"There is a correct side."
"They stab food perfectly well from either side."
Lillian couldn't stop the small laugh that escaped her.
Both parents immediately looked up.
Caroline smiled.
"Good morning, sweetheart."
"Morning."
Thomas walked over and kissed the top of her head.
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas."
For a little while everything felt normal.
Breakfast.
Conversation.
Christmas music playing softly in the background.
For a brief moment, Lillian almost forgot everything weighing on her.
Almost.
Then her gaze drifted toward the Christmas tree standing in the corner.
And suddenly she found herself thinking about Sebastian.
Not because of a memory.
Because there wasn't one.
They had never spent Christmas together.
This would have been their first.
The realization hit harder than expected.
Because she had imagined it.
Without realizing she was imagining it.
She had pictured him sitting awkwardly in the living room while Caroline fussed over him.
Pictured Thomas trying to make conversation.
Pictured Sebastian looking mildly irritated by Christmas traditions while secretly tolerating them because she enjoyed them.
None of it happened.
And now it never would.
At least not this year.
Lillian looked away.
Her chest tightening.
Caroline noticed immediately.
"You're thinking about him."
It wasn't a question.
Lillian lowered her gaze.
"...Yeah."
Silence settled briefly.
Then she admitted quietly:
"This was supposed to be our first Christmas."
Caroline's expression softened instantly.
"Oh sweetheart."
Lillian forced a smile.
"I'm okay."
Neither of her parents believed that.
But neither pushed.
Later that morning, while Caroline was preparing lunch and Thomas was untangling Christmas lights he'd somehow managed to knot together again, the conversation drifted elsewhere.
Until Caroline suddenly paused.
Then frowned slightly.
"Wait."
Lillian looked up.
"What?"
Caroline's eyes widened slightly.
"Isn't today Sebastian's birthday too?"
The room immediately fell silent.
Lillian froze.
Because she had spent the entire morning trying not to think about that.
And now she couldn't avoid it anymore.
December twenty-fifth.
Christmas Day.
Sebastian Wolfe's twenty-eighth birthday.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Because she knew exactly how he was spending it.
Alone.
Across New York, the Wolfe mansion was silent.
No music.
No laughter.
No decorations.
Nothing.
The enormous mansion felt colder than usual.
Empty.
Sebastian stood in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee.
His expression unreadable.
The staff had mostly been given the day off.
He hadn't wanted anyone around.
Not today.
Not on Christmas.
Not on his birthday.
Neither occasion had ever meant much to him before.
Birthdays were just another day.
Christmas was simply a holiday.
Nothing more.
At least that was what he used to think.
Now he wasn't so sure.
Because for the first time in his life, he had actually been looking forward to spending them with someone.
Lillian.
The thought made something twist painfully in his chest.
Sebastian looked away.
As though physically turning his head could stop the memory.
It didn't.
The day passed slowly.
At the Parker house, Caroline insisted on making far too much food.
Thomas spent half the afternoon pretending he wasn't sneaking extra desserts.
Lillian genuinely appreciated their efforts.
They were trying so hard to make her smile.
And sometimes they succeeded.
But every so often her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Toward a man sitting alone in a mansion across the city.
Toward the fact that today was his birthday.
Toward the fact that she wasn't there.
Meanwhile, Sebastian spent most of the afternoon in his office.
Working.
Reading reports.
Reviewing contracts.
Anything to stay occupied.
Eventually his gaze drifted toward one of the drawers.
The one containing the bracelet box.
The one she'd never gotten to see for Christmas after the breakup.
His birthday gift sat elsewhere.
Still unopened.
Still untouched.
Because the only gift he'd actually wanted this year wasn't something that could be wrapped.
Sebastian closed the drawer again.
Immediately.
Before he could think about it too much.
As evening approached, snow began falling lightly outside.
The city glowed beneath Christmas lights.
Families gathered.
Friends celebrated.
People spent time together.
Sebastian poured himself a drink.
Then another.
Not enough to lose control.
Just enough to dull the silence.
He sat alone in the living room.
Glass in hand.
The fire crackling quietly nearby.
His eyes drifted toward the empty space beside him.
And despite himself—
he imagined her there.
Curled against him.
Talking about something random.
Forcing him to watch a terrible Christmas movie.
The image appeared so clearly it actually hurt.
Sebastian closed his eyes.
Then immediately reached for his drink.
Back at her parents' house, Christmas dinner had finally ended.
The dishes were cleaned.
The living room was warm and quiet.
Lillian sat curled into one corner of the couch.
One hand resting lightly over her stomach.
A small smile appeared unexpectedly.
Next Christmas.
Everything would be different.
She wouldn't be alone.
For the first time, she allowed herself to imagine it.
A tiny child.
Christmas morning.
Presents.
Family.
Love.
The image was beautiful.
And heartbreaking.
Because another image immediately followed.
Sebastian.
Standing beside her.
Holding their child.
Smiling.
A future that now felt impossibly far away.
The smile disappeared.
That night, after Caroline and Thomas had gone to bed, Lillian returned to her room.
The house was quiet.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Her phone resting in her hands.
Without thinking, she opened her contacts.
Sebastian.
His name appeared immediately.
Her thumb hovered over it.
One call.
That's all it would take.
Just one.
She could wish him a happy birthday.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
A simple message.
But she couldn't do it.
Because she didn't know if he wanted to hear from her.
Didn't know if she'd only make things worse.
Didn't know if hearing his voice would break her heart all over again.
Slowly, she lowered the phone.
Then whispered into the quiet room:
"Happy birthday, Sebastian."
The words disappeared into the silence.
Unheard.
Across the city, Sebastian sat alone in his office.
The whiskey glass rested on the desk.
Half-empty.
His phone sat nearby.
Every so often his gaze drifted toward it.
A ridiculous habit.
A foolish hope.
Yet it remained.
Because some part of him still wondered.
Still hoped.
Maybe she'd call.
Maybe she'd message.
Maybe she'd remember.
Hours passed.
Nothing came.
Eventually Sebastian looked away from the phone.
His expression unreadable.
Not angry.
Not bitter.
Just disappointed.
Because despite everything that had happened—
despite the hurt—
despite the breakup—
he still wished she were there.
And that was perhaps the loneliest part of all.
Outside, Christmas lights illuminated the city.
Inside two separate homes, two people who still loved each other spent the night apart.
Neither able to move on.
Neither knowing what the future held.
And neither realizing just how much their lives were about to change.