I went to get ready.

  My heart was still heavy, but my movements had grown calmer. I picked up the neatly wrapped gifts — three parcels tied with ribbons — and carried them into the hallway.

  Alexander smiled when he saw them.

  "I'll put them under the tree at Phil's," I said. "It's a surprise. They can only be opened in the morning."

  "You really committed to this," he said, a note of quiet admiration in his voice.

  "And one more thing..." I hesitated for a second. "The cake."

  He raised an eyebrow.

  "The cake?"

  "Yes."

  He laughed — softly, genuinely.

  "When did you manage all of this?"

  "Between apocalypses," I shrugged.

  "I already want that cake," he admitted.

  Just then, a familiar sound drifted in from the street — the hum of an engine, then a car door slamming.

  I looked out the window.

  "Jo-Jo," I said.

  Alexander was already reaching for his jacket.

  "I'll go help him get Lia in," he said. "Be right back."

  He pulled on his coat and stepped outside.

  Voices followed — muffled at first, then louder. Laughter. Bright, excited tones. The sound of wheels rolling over the porch.

  The door opened.

  Alexander carefully wheeled Lia inside in her chair. She wore a light sweater and a soft scarf, her eyes shining as if Christmas had already arrived and all the good things had happened ahead of time.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Hi, Molly!" she said, reaching her arms out to me immediately.

  I bent down and hugged her.

  "Merry almost Christmas," I said. "I'm so happy to see you."

  Jo-Jo stepped in after her and pulled me into a warm, homely hug that suddenly made my eyes sting. He smelled of frost and car interior.

  "So, alive and well?" he asked with his usual grin.

  "For now," I replied, surprised at how calm it sounded.

  Bridget appeared at my feet at once, spinning, snorting softly, nudging my knees with her nose. I crouched down and stroked her head, her warm back.

  "Hi, beautiful," I whispered. "You look especially festive today."

  "And me?" a voice came from above.

  Alexander stood nearby, watching with mock indignation. "I'm here too, you know. No hug, no petting?"

  I froze.

  "I..." I started, feeling heat rush to my face.

  "Kidding," he said gently, though amusement still flickered in his eyes.

  I stepped toward him anyway and hugged him. Very carefully. Almost awkwardly. He paused for a second, then wrapped his arms around me warmly in return.

  "Now that's better," he said quietly.

  I pulled away quickly, pretending to adjust my dress.

  I glanced toward the living room.

  Pipa wasn't there.

  He didn't run out, didn't peek around the corner. Not a rustle, not a sound.

  Maybe he already knew the scents of Jo-Jo, Lia, and Bridget — and decided not to investigate.

  Or maybe... he was simply afraid of dogs.

  Everyone was talking at once. Laughing. Interrupting each other. The kitchen grew crowded, warm, and noisy.

  I caught fragments of sentences, nods, chuckles — but inside I kept a steady mask.

  Pretending everything was fine.

  Alexander and I were both doing it.

  Even though nothing about this was fine.

  Not today. Not after everything.

  Sometimes it made me uneasy — as if we'd silently agreed not to mention the crack in the middle of the room and to pretend it was just part of the floor pattern. Slightly wrong. Slightly dishonest. But maybe there was no other way right now.

  I turned on the coffee machine, set out cups, poured coffee for everyone. The smell made the kitchen even cozier — warm, familiar, domestic. Jo-Jo was telling something funny, Lia laughed, Alexander added a few rare, perfectly timed comments. Bridget settled near the radiator and sighed heavily, as if she, too, were part of the conversation.

  We drank coffee, laughed, exchanged glances.

  And for a few minutes, I almost managed to believe it was just an ordinary evening.

  Then someone said,

  "Well, shall we?"

  Everyone moved at once. Coats, scarves, bags.

  We got dressed, checked that we had everything. I glanced toward the living room once more — Pipa still hadn't appeared.

  Probably for the best, I thought.

  "Ready?" Alexander asked.

  I nodded.

  We turned off the lights, closed the door, and stepped out into the cold evening.

  Christmas was very close now.

  Outside, it was unexpectedly lively. Cars were parked more densely along the road than usual. Windows glowed in many houses, their light warm and festive, as if the entire neighborhood had agreed to be together tonight. The air rang with frost and anticipation.

  Alexander went up the porch steps first, opened Phil's door, and called out loudly, warmly:

  "We're here! Come greet your guests!"

  And I froze.

  In front of me stood Phil's old house. The same one. No soaring ceilings, no waterfalls or elevators. A narrow hallway, the familiar kitchen, his plants — everything as before.

  But...

  The space seemed to flicker.

  Thin horizontal lines, like a broken television screen.

  Very faint. Very fast.

  As if a hologram lay over reality and sometimes failed to align perfectly.

  I blinked. The lines disappeared.

  I looked at Jo-Jo. Then at Lia.

  They looked completely calm.

  Not noticing anything.

  Bridget was businesslike, sniffing the floor, the corners, the legs of chairs — utterly relaxed. No anxiety. No tension. Just a house, new smells, everything normal.

  So... I'm the only one who sees it.

  I went into the kitchen and set the cake on the table. Carefully. With a sense of accomplishment. We placed the gifts on a small couch in the kitchen for now.

  The tree stood in the living room. We didn't go there, as if silently waiting for Phil, leaving him the right to make the first entrance.

  We stayed in the kitchen, began taking off our coats.

  "You look amazing," Lia said, looking me over.

  "Yeah, that dress is wow," Jo-Jo added.

  I smiled, feeling the tension inside ease a little. At least for a minute.

  Alexander took off his jacket, hung it up neatly, and said,

  "Excuse me, I'll be right back. I'll go get Phil."

  He looked at me — quick, warm — as if checking: you're here, you're with me.

  And he went further into the house.

  We stayed waiting.

  The kitchen smelled of pastry, chocolate, and something festive, elusive. Outside the window, snow fell softly.

  Everything looked almost... normal.