Archive of Our Own

Thursday, December 18th

Maya sat across from Carina with a small salad and a thousand-yard stare. The cafeteria was loud and chaotic around them. 

Carina was mid-story about Andrea stealing her chocolate from the advent calendar that morning when she stopped, eyes narrowing before leaning in.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Maya replied, almost automatically. 

“Maya.”

That look. Deadly, impossible to lie to. Carina would know if she withheld anything and Maya wasn’t sure she’d survive it. 

“I… heard my dad talking to my mom last night.” She sighed.

Carina stiffened, any mention of Lane would do that, but this felt different. Like there was an extra weight hanging over her girlfriend’s shoulders this time. “What did you hear?”

“Mom is- well- Dad, he’s leaving for a work trip. Over Christmas.” She poked into her salad, not actually eating anything. “A whole week.”

Carina blinked but quickly regained her composure. “What about your mom?”

“She might take Mason to go visit my aunt.” Maya shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like having to miss out again on seeing one of the only adults in her life that didn’t care about her running achievements didn’t matter. Even if her heart had been beating weird all morning. “He said he’d think about letting them go. Maybe.”

Carina’s eyes lit up like someone flipped a switch. “And you would stay here.”

“I- Yeah. He’ll probably make me stay with one of his friends from the club. To make sure I stick to my schedule and everything. I hope not though, it’s always weird when I’m around them and…” 

Carina just stared at her.

Slowly.

Meaningfully.

Like Maya was missing a puzzle piece that was, in reality, right in front of her.

The blonde stared back, still seemingly blank, but no longer rambling. “...What?” she finally asked.

Carina put her fork down. “Maya. Bella, you know you could stay with us.”

“I- I mean… maybe? I don’t know. My dad would have to agree and there’s my training schedule and-”

“Maya.” Carina leaned forward. “My mom will agree to everything.”

Her shoulders dropped instantly as she slumped. “Oh. Right. Yes. Lucia could stay on top of my running schedule and check my food and- yeah, okay, maybe it’s not-”

“No.” The older girl rolled her eyes. “She would say she’ll do that.”

“But… she’d have to. Lane would expect-”

“Bambina.” Carina grabbed her hand under the table. “Mamma will tell your dad whatever he needs to hear. And then she’ll feed you pasta and make you watch The Muppet Christmas Carol.”

“She wouldn’t lie to him.” Maya’s lips twitched. 

Carina made a noise like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She wouldn’t lie to you. To your dad?” She scoffed. “Mamma would happily tell him that she will personally weigh your lettuce in the morning.”

Maya’s face twitched, still learning to be comfortable with the way the DeLuca’s talk about her dad. “I don’t have lettuce in the morning…”

They both bursted out laughing, Maya slightly leaning into her girlfriend. “Maya, mamma would love to have you over. She would want to give you a real Christmas. She loves you.”

Her throat tightened. She looked down at the table, absently playing with her food. “I just didn’t think… staying with you was even an option.”

Carina softened instantly, “It is always an option. Always.”

Maya finally smiled, small but real.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Maybe I’ll ask my dad when he’s in a good mood.”

Carina squeezed her hand once. “Good. I’ll tell Mamma to prepare her ‘strict Italian mother’ act.”

Maya snorted, finally relaxing. “I thought you said she only used that in emergencies and when Andrea tries to steal the last biscotti?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Carina grinned. “And she will use it to rescue you.”

Maya waited until Lane’s office door was open.

That was rule number one.

He was at his desk, jacket on the back of his chair, laptop open, papers stacked too neatly. Everything about him looked ready to leave. Maya stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back without really thinking about it.

Watch your posture, don’t be a slouch.

“Yes?” Lane said, without looking up.

“I heard you’re going on a work trip,” Maya said.

He glanced up then, sharp. “You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

“I wasn’t,” she said quickly. “I just- your door was open.”

A pause. He studied her, weighing something.

“Yes. I’ll be gone for the week of Christmas.”

Maya nodded once. “And Mom and Mason might go see Aunt Sarah?”

“They might,” Lane said. “If it works with the schedule.”

Maya took a breath. This was the moment. “I could stay here.”

“No,” he said immediately.

Her shoulders dipped before she could stop them.

“I mean,” Lane continued, tapping his pen against the desk, “alone is not an option. You know that.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “But… I could stay with the DeLucas.”

Silence.

Lane leaned back slowly, eyes narrowing. “The Italians.”

Maya flinched. Just a little.

“They live close to us, so my routes would be mostly the same," she said carefully. “And they- Carina and I study together. It wouldn’t interfere with training.”

Lane stared at her like she’d suggested something absurd. “It’s a very emotional household.”

Maya didn’t respond. She’d learned that lesson early.

“There’s food constantly,” he went on. “No structure. No discipline. And far too many distractions.”

“I’d keep my schedule,” Maya said quickly. “I wouldn’t miss any runs or conditioning. Lucia could-”

“Lucia?” Lane cut in. “You’re suggesting her as an authority figure?”

“She’s… firm,” Maya said, because Carina had told her to say that. “She’d follow whatever plan you give her.”  

Lane drummed his fingers on the desk. 

Calculated.

“I would need to speak to her,” he said finally. “Directly.”

Maya nodded. “Of course.”

“And she would need a written list of conditions.” He reached for a notepad. “Daily wake-up times. Exact meals. Portion sizes. Training expectations.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No deviations.” His eyes locked onto hers. “Not even for Christmas.”

Maya nodded again, smaller this time.

“And you will not be sharing a bedroom,” Lane added flatly. “You don’t need distractions.”

Her stomach dropped. “I-”

“I don’t care,” he said. “A couch. A spare mattress. You’ve slept on the training mat at Mitchell’s place before, you can do that, if necessary. Don’t think I won’t just ask Mitchell to take you again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No late nights.”
“No unnecessary socializing.”
“No sugar.”
“No skipping runs due to ‘weather.’”

He paused, then added, almost casually, “And I don’t want you picking up their habits.”

Maya swallowed hard. “What habits?”

Lane’s lip curled faintly. “Overindulgence. Emotionality. Excuses.”

He stood, decision made. “If Lucia DeLuca agrees to every condition I set, and I will be verifying, then I will allow it.”

Allow it.

Maya straightened, heart pounding. “Thank you.”

Lane picked up his jacket. “Don’t make me regret it.”

As he brushed past her, Maya stood frozen in the doorway, hands clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms.

Upstairs, she would text Carina.

He said maybe.

And that was the best yes she was ever going to get.

Lucia was at the counter, flour dusting her hands, humming softly to herself as she worked the dough. The kitchen smelled like yeast and warmth and something sweet baking in the oven.

Carina hovered in the doorway for a moment, watching her.

“Mamma?” she said finally.

Lucia glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “Sì, amore?”

Carina stepped closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. “I need to ask you something. And you need to promise not to get mad.”

Lucia’s smile didn’t fade, but her eyes sharpened just a little. “That is never a good beginning.”

Carina huffed a breath. “It’s about Maya.”

The older DeLuca turned fully then, wiping her hands on a towel. “What happened? If you hurt that girl-”

Carina leaned against the counter, arms crossed tight around herself. “No! Mamma! I would never! I love her! No- It’s- Lane is going away for Christmas. For a week.”

Lucia’s eyebrows lifted. “And?”

“And Maya’s mother and brother might visit her aunt,” she continued. “Which means Maya would be… alone or with one of Lane’s friends….”

Lucia’s mouth pressed into a line. “That is not acceptable.”

“I know,” Carina said quickly. “That’s why-” She took a breath. “I want her to stay here.”

Lucia didn’t answer right away.

She watched her daughter carefully instead, noting the way her shoulders were tense, the way she worried her lower lip.

“He will not like that,” Lucia said quietly.

“No,” Carina agreed. “He hates us.”

Lucia snorted. “He does not hate us. He hates that we are warm.”

Carina smiled weakly. “He will make rules. A lot of them.”

Lucia nodded once. “Of course he will.”

“Food rules,” the girl went on. “Training rules. No sleeping in. No sharing a room.” She hesitated. “He doesn’t like that we’re Italian.”

Lucia’s jaw tightened. “Ah.”

Carina’s voice dropped. “He makes her earn rest, earn food, mamma.”

Lucia closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, something had settled in her expression, a calm, immovable resolve.

“Does Maya want to stay here?” she asked.

Carina nodded immediately. “She just doesn’t think she’s allowed to want it.”

Lucia reached out and cupped Carina’s cheek. “Then we will want it for her.”

“He’ll want to talk to you,” Carina said. “He’ll give you a list. And he’ll expect you to follow it.”

Lucia smiled then, soft, polite, and dangerous in a way only mothers could be.

“Bene,” she said. “I will listen. I will agree. I will reassure him.”

Carina blinked. “You will?”

Lucia leaned in, pressing her forehead to Carina’s. “Amore, when a man believes control is love, the only way to protect a child is to let him believe he still has it.”

Carina swallowed. “You won’t actually-”

Lucia shook her head. “I will keep Maya safe. Fed. Warm.” A beat. “And loved.”

Carina’s eyes filled. “Thank you.”

Lucia kissed her hair. “She is already family, don’t mess it up with that girl, bambina. I like her..”

The timer for the oven chimed, making Lucia turn back to the counter. “Now,” she said lightly, “go tell Maya she is staying here. And tell her to bring warm clothes. I will not have her running outside in December.”

Carina laughed softly, already pulling out her phone.

Friday, December 19th

The hallway was quieter this late in the day, lockers already half-empty, teachers’ voices drifting faintly from classrooms. Carina walked backward in front of Maya, keeping pace easily.

“So,” Carina said lightly. “You’re thinking very loud again.”

The blonde exhaled through her nose. “I’m not.”

Carina hummed, unconvinced. “You are. Your shoulders are up here.” She gestured near her ears. “Which means your brain is doing laps.”

Maya slowed, then stopped by her locker. “He said… maybe.”

Carina’s face softened immediately. “That’s good.”

“It’s not a yes,” the younger girl said. “It’s a ‘yes if I do everything perfectly and don’t mess it up.’”

Carina stepped closer, lowering her voice. “It’s still more than he usually gives.”

Maya nodded, but she didn’t look relieved. “He wants to talk to your mom. He wants to give her a list.”

“I know.” She smiled, a small, yet confident smile on her face.

Maya frowned. “You’re not nervous.”

“No,” Carina said simply. “Because Mamma knows exactly how to handle men like your father.”

Maya hesitated. “She doesn’t have to do this. I don’t want her to feel pressured.”

Carina reached out and hooked her pinky around Maya’s. “She wants to. And she can come tonight.”

Maya’s head snapped up. “Tonight?”

“Yes.” Carina’s eyes were bright now, determined. “Between your strength training and your run. She said that way, your father can’t say you skipped anything.”

Maya swallowed. “You’re coming too?”

“Of course I am,” Carina said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You think I’d let you face that alone?”

Maya stared at her for a second, something fragile in her expression. “He’s going to be… himself.”

Carina’s thumb brushed over Maya’s knuckle, grounding. “Then we will be ourselves. And that is better.”

Maya looked down at their linked hands, then back up. “What if he says no?”

Carina leaned in, forehead almost touching hers, voice barely above a whisper. “Then we try again. Or we find another way. But tonight? You are not alone.”

The bell rang, sharp and loud.

Carina squeezed her hand one last time before letting go. “Text me when you start your strength training,” she said. “I’ll be counting reps in my head.”

Maya huffed a small laugh. “You don’t even know my routine.”

Carina grinned. “I know you. That is enough.”

The Bishop house was too quiet when Lucia stepped inside.

Clean, immaculate, stripped of warmth. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and lemon polish, not dinner. Carina’s hand brushed Lucia’s arm as the door closed behind them, a silent check-in.

Lane stood in the living room, arms crossed, already waiting.

“Mrs. DeLuca,” he said. “You’re punctual.”

Lucia offered a polite smile. “I try to be.”

Carina stayed close to her, chin lifted, eyes sharp. She took in the room quickly, the lack of photos, the absence of softness, and understood, all at once, why Maya always exhaled when she crossed the DeLuca threshold.

“Maya is finishing her strength training,” Lane said. “She’ll be going for her run shortly.”

Lucia nodded. “Of course.”

From the hallway, Katherine appeared, hands wrapped around a mug. She smiled at Lucia, tentative but genuine.

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly. “I- Maya’s been nervous all day.”

Lane’s head snapped toward her. “Katherine.”

Lucia turned fully to her then, warmth flooding her expression. “She is a good girl,” she said gently. “Very disciplined.”

Katherine nodded. “She is. But she’s also sixteen.” She hesitated, then added, “Socializing is usually… hard for her.”

Lane scoffed. “Because you make it hard.”

Katherine stiffened. “Lane-”

“You coddle her,” he continued, voice sharp. “And it makes her weak. She doesn’t need friendships. You convinced her she did.”

The words landed heavy in the room.

Carina’s fingers curled at her side, nails biting into her palm.

Lucia didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t rush to contradict him. She simply turned back to Lane, calm as stone.

“Structure is important,” she said evenly. “But so is free time.”

His lips thinned. “Free time is earned.”

Lucia inclined her head. “She came in first again last week, broke the record? Would that earn her free time?”

Lane ignored that, and instead he reached for a folder on the table and slid it across toward her. “These are my conditions.”

Lucia glanced down, wake-up times, meal specifications, portion control, training schedules. No days off. No exceptions.

“No room sharing,” Lane added. “No distractions.”

Carina’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

Lucia closed the folder carefully. “I understand.”

“You will enforce this exactly,” Lane said. “No substitutions. No indulgences. I will not have her routine compromised because she’s in an overly emotional household.”

Katherine took a step forward. “Lane, maybe-”

“No,” he snapped. “This is not a discussion.”

Lucia’s eyes flicked to Katherine, a look full of quiet acknowledgment, then back to Lane.

“She will follow her schedule,” Lucia said calmly. “She will eat properly. She will train.”

Lane studied her, suspicious. “And the holidays?”

Lucia met his gaze without flinching. “Discipline does not disappear because it is December.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

“Good,” Lane said. “Then we’re clear.”

From the hallway came the faint thud of weights being set down.

Maya.

Carina had to bite her cheek to stop herself from smiling at the idea of seeing her girlfriend soon, no matter how brief.

Lucia straightened, her voice still perfectly composed. “I will take care of her.”

Lane nodded once. “See that you do.”

As Lucia turned toward the sound of Maya’s footsteps, Katherine spoke softly behind them.

“Thank you,” she said. “For trying.”

Lucia paused just long enough to answer, her voice low but unwavering.

“I am not trying,” she said. “I am doing.”

Carina glanced at her mother, something fierce and proud burning behind her eyes.

And somewhere down the hall, Maya was about to step into a room where, for once, the balance of power had already shifted, even if her father didn’t realize it yet.

Monday, December 22nd

Lane stood at the foot of Maya’s bed, arms crossed, clipboard in hand.

“You know these already,” he said, not unkindly, which somehow only made it worse. “But I’m going to repeat them.”

Maya stood straight in front of him, shoulders back, eyes forward.

She wanted to go, she wanted to stay the week at the DeLuca’s so badly. All weekend she had been on her best behaviour, anything to just make sure she would be allowed to go.

“Yes, sir.”

“Wake-up at five-thirty. Strength training first. Run immediately after.” He ticked each point off with his pen. “No excuses for weather. No sleeping in. No late nights.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Meals exactly as outlined.” He looked at her pointedly. “Lucia DeLuca has the list. There will be no deviations.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“And you will not share a room.” A pause. “You do not need distractions.”

Her jaw tightened. “Yes, sir.”

Lane studied her for a moment, assessing. Satisfied. “Good. I expect progress, not regression.”

He turned and left without another word.

The door clicked shut.

Maya stayed standing for a few seconds after, just to be safe.

Then she exhaled and sank onto the edge of the bed.

She reached for her backpack, the one she’d laid out earlier, and began packing methodically. Running shoes. Training clothes. Resistance bands. Stopwatch. The schedule, printed and folded neatly.

A knock, soft this time.

Maya froze.

The door opened just enough for her mom to slip inside.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

Maya’s first instinct was panic. “He- he just left.”

She didn’t feel this way around Lucia. She didn’t panic as much as she did around her own mom. And she wanted to fix that, she wanted to feel safe with her own mother, she just didn’t know how.

“I know,” Katherine said. She closed the door gently behind her. “I heard.”

Maya resumed packing, hands a little stiff. “I’m almost done.”

Katherine hovered for a moment, then sat on the bed beside her. Not touching. Just close.

“You’re excited,” Katherine said softly.

“I’m… prepared.”

Katherine winced, just slightly. “Right.”

She watched Maya pack for a few seconds. “You know,” she said carefully, “it’s okay to enjoy being with Carina’s family.”

Maya’s fingers stilled. Her chest tightened.

“I didn’t say I would,” she replied quickly.

“I know,” Katherine said. “I’m just saying… you don’t have to earn kindness.”

The words felt dangerous. Like stepping onto thin ice.

Maya stared at her backpack. “Dad says-”

“I know what your dad says,” Katherine interrupted gently. She reached out, then stopped herself, hand hovering before letting it fall back to her lap. “But I need you to hear something different. Even if it’s just once.”

Maya swallowed. “Am I… doing something wrong?”

“No,” Katherine said immediately. “You’re doing everything right. Too right.”

That made Maya’s throat burn.

Katherine stood, she wanted to move closer, give her daughter a hug, but instead she smoothed the edge of the comforter. “Lucia is good,” she added. “She’ll look after you.”

Maya nodded, unsure what to do with the warmth curling in her chest. It felt unfamiliar.

Unstable.

At the door, Katherine paused. “You deserve to have a nice Christmas, Maya.”

The door closed softly behind her.

Maya sat there for a long moment, staring at her packed bag.

Part of her wanted to believe her.

Another part of her braced, waiting for the kindness to be taken back.

She zipped the backpack shut anyway, careful, controlled, and told herself not to expect too much.

Because expecting things was how you got hurt.

The DeLuca house glowed.

That was the first thing Maya noticed when the car pulled up, warm light spilling through the windows, soft and golden against the early winter dark. Christmas lights framed the doorway, uneven but cheerful, like someone had laughed while hanging them.

Lane cut the engine with a scoff.

“Remember,” he said, already reaching for his door handle. “This is not a vacation.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her backpack was at her feet, zipped, perfectly packed.

Lane rang the bell once.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Buonasera!” Lucia said, smiling wide, apron dusted with flour. Heat rolled out from behind her, warmth, noise, the smell of something rich and garlicky.

Carina appeared at her side, eyes lighting up the second she saw Maya. “Hey.”

Maya’s chest tightened, she wanted to be closer, to be held by Carina or at least hold her hand. But she couldn’t, not now, not with Lane right here.

Lucia stepped forward. “Maya, welcome.” She kissed the air near both of Maya’s cheeks before Maya could react, then laughed softly at her own enthusiasm. “Come in, come in, it’s cold.”

Lane cleared his throat.

Lucia straightened, the warmth in her smile shifting into something composed and respectful. “Mr. Bishop.”

“Mrs. DeLuca,” Lane said, cool. “You have the schedule.”

“Yes,” Lucia replied calmly. “Everything you outlined.”

Lane’s gaze flicked over Maya. “I’ll be checking in.”

“I expect nothing less,” Lucia said evenly.

Maya stood there, heart pounding, unsure where to look.

Katherine touched her shoulder briefly. “Text me,” she whispered.

Maya nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Lane said.

“I won’t,” Maya replied. She needed to be good, maybe if she was good enough he’d let her stay over more.

Lucia watched the exchange quietly.

When the Bishop car finally pulled away, the street seemed to exhale.

Lucia closed the door gently behind them.

“Well,” she said, clapping her hands once. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Maya said out of habit.

Carina snorted softly. “You’re literally shaking.”

“I am not-”

Lucia was already draping a thick scarf around her neck. “You are. And you are wearing thin socks. This will not do.”

Maya froze, uncertain whether to protest.

“Shoes off,” Andrea called from the living room. “You’re tracking snow!”

Maya hesitated, then obeyed, lining her shoes up neatly by the door.

The house hummed, voices, music. It smelled like home in a way Maya didn’t have language for.

Lucia gestured down the hallway. “Come. We’ll put your things away.”

Carina took her bag before Maya could object. “I’ve got it.”

“I can carry-”

“You do enough,” Carina said quietly, smiling at her.

Upstairs, Carina’s room was small but bright, fairy lights strung over the headboard. A second pillow already sat on the double bed.

Maya swallowed.

“I can sleep on the couch,” she said quickly.

Carina’s smile softened. “Mamma already approved.”

Maya blinked. “She did?”

Carina leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “She told your dad what he wanted to hear.”

Maya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Downstairs, Lucia called, “Maya, Carina! Dinner in ten minutes.”

Maya stiffened. “I should check the plan-”

Lucia’s voice floated back, warm and firm. “We will talk after you eat.”

Maya stood there, heart racing, caught between instinct and safety.

The brunette squeezed her hand. “You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re home.”

Maya didn’t correct her.

Not yet.

Maya sat at the edge of her chair, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap.

The table was crowded, dishes overlapping, bowls being passed, bread wrapped in a cloth that steamed when Lucia lifted it. The room smelled like tomato sauce and garlic and something buttery Maya didn’t want to identify.

She watched it all like it might disappear if she looked too closely.

Lucia set a plate in front of her.

Pasta. Real pasta. With sauce.

Maya’s stomach clenched.

“I-” She stopped herself. “I have a meal plan.”

Lucia met her eyes calmly. “I know.”

Maya waited for the adjustment. The smaller portion. The compromise.

Instead, Lucia added a piece of bread to her plate and Carina bit back a smile.

“You don’t have to eat everything,” Lucia said gently. “But you will eat.”

Maya nodded, throat tight. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Lucia, Maya, we’ve been over this before.”

Maya flushed. “Yes- Lucia.”

Andrew leaned across the table. “She eats like she’s afraid the food will yell at her.”

“Andrea,” Carina said sharply.

“It’s okay,” Lucia said, waving a hand. “She is learning.”

Maya picked up her fork, hands steady only because she forced them to be. She twirled a small amount of pasta.

Carina noticed.

She leaned over and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek.

Maya shot her a panicked look, instinct reacting before her brain remembered where they were.

Carina whispered, “Breathe.”

The conversation flowed around her, stories about school, Andrea’s dramatized retelling of a choir rehearsal, Lucia arguing affectionately with Carina about whether garlic could ever be too much.

Maya listened. Laughed once, surprised by the sound.

Halfway through, Lucia stood and brought over a small bowl of salad. She placed it near Maya without comment.

It was familiar. Safe.

Maya felt her shoulders lower a fraction.

When she slowed, fork hovering uncertainly, Lucia didn’t say finish. She didn’t say hurry. She didn’t say anything at all.

Instead, she sat back down and asked Carina about her biology test.

Maya ate.

Not all of it.

But more than she would have anywhere else.

When she finally set her fork down, hands trembling just slightly, Lucia caught her eye.

“Bene,” she said simply. “That is enough for tonight.”

Enough.

Not too much. Not insufficient. Just… enough.

Something in Maya’s chest ached. She wasn’t being yelled at, she didn’t get the silent treatment. No insults or plates thrown. 

It was just safe.

Carina squeezed her knee under the table, grounding.

Later, when the plates were cleared and Andrew was arguing about dessert, Lucia leaned in closer to Maya. “We will talk about schedules tomorrow.” She murmured. “Tonight, you rest.”

Maya nodded, unsure how to respond to care that didn’t come with conditions.

As she followed Carina upstairs later, the warmth of the house clinging to her skin, Maya realized she wasn’t counting calories.

And that realization scared her almost as much as it comforted her.

Maya hovered awkwardly in Carina’s doorway, toothbrush still in hand.

Her girlfriend was already in soft pyjamas, flopped backward onto the bed and patted the space beside her. “Come on. Movie?”

Maya hesitated. “I usually-”

“I know,” Carina said gently. “You usually do nothing fun and then overthink until you fall asleep.”

Maya rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth lifted. She didn't laugh when other people made comments like that, but Carina- well Carina was different. So she continued to get changed, folded her clothes with unnecessary precision, then climbed onto the bed like it might reject her.

Carina queued up a Christmas movie, something cheesy and familiar, and pulled the blankets up around them. Maya sat stiff at first, hands folded on top of the covers, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

Carina shifted closer, shoulder brushing hers.

Maya inhaled sharply.

“Relax,” Carina whispered. “The movie won’t bite.”

Five minutes in, there was a soft knock.

Maya froze.

The door opened a crack and Lucia peeked in. “Everything okay?”

Maya sat bolt upright. “Yes- I mean- we were just-”

Lucia smiled, amused and kind. “I know.”

Maya’s brain short-circuited. “You-?”

Lucia stepped inside, lowering her voice. “Carina told me you two are together. I am not blind, cara.”

Maya’s face went hot instantly. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Lucia waved a hand and winked. “Carina should’ve told you. But now, listen to me.” Her tone softened, grounding. “You are respectful. You are safe here and you may share the room.”

Maya didn’t say anything, just blinked.

“The bed,” Lucia added calmly, like she was discussing linens and not Maya’s rapidly imploding sense of dignity. 

There was a brief pause, just long enough for Maya to feel her soul leave her body. Before Lucia’s smile titled, a touch mischievous now. Her eyes flicked between the two of them, like she was cataloguing every possible implication while Maya’s heart climbed straight into her throat.

“Really,” Lucia added at last, entirely too knowing. “The walls are not very thick, and Andrea is a light sleeper.”

She paused again, just long enough to make it unbearable. 

“Just keep the noise low.”

Maya made a small, strangled sound, that might have been a word in another life.

Lucia laughed softly and backed toward the door. “Buona notte, ragazze.”

The door closed.

Silence.

Maya slowly collapsed backward onto the mattress, hands over her face. “I want to evaporate.”

Carina burst out laughing. “Oh my god. Your face.”

“She said noise,” Maya groaned. “Carina, she said-”

“I heard her,” Carina said, still grinning. “I will cherish this moment forever.”

Maya peeked through her fingers. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe,” her girlfriend said, leaning in. “But you love me.”

She kissed Maya then, soft at first, just a gentle press, testing. Maya froze for half a second out of sheer instinct before kissing her back, careful and sweet and aching.

They didn’t rush it.

Just warmth, and quiet laughter, and hands finding familiar places, Carina’s fingers curling into Maya’s shirt, Maya’s hand resting at Carina’s waist like she wasn’t sure she was allowed more.

Eventually, they pulled apart, foreheads touching, breathing slow.

“We should sleep,” Maya whispered.

Carina hummed. “Probably.”

The movie kept playing, forgotten.

They settled down under the blankets. Maya lay on her back, muscles tense out of habit, staring at the ceiling.

Then Carina shifted.

She curled into Maya’s side, head resting against her shoulder, leg draped comfortably over Maya’s. One arm wrapped around her middle like it belonged there.

A part of Maya wanted to move away, but- this felt good, safe. And her dad wouldn’t know.

Carina tilted her head up slightly. “Is this okay?”

Maya swallowed. Then nodded. “Yeah. It’s… nice.”

Carina smiled sleepily and tucked herself closer.

Maya stayed awake longer than usual, listening to Carina’s breathing even out, feeling her weight, her warmth.

No commands. No counting. No bracing.

Just someone choosing her.

Until eventually, without meaning to, Maya let herself rest too.

Tuesday, December 23rd

Maya woke up at 5:30 on the dot.

Her eyes snapped open, body already bracing, already moving. For half a second, she forgot where she was, then she registered warmth. A body curled into her side. Carina’s hair tickling her collarbone, her leg still tangled with Maya’s.

And for a few seconds Maya just… froze.

Carefully, painstakingly, she eased herself free, inch by inch, until Carina barely stirred. Maya paused, watching her breathe, then slipped out of bed and pulled on her shorts and shirt.

The house was quiet as she padded downstairs.

Too quiet, she thought. Wrong.

She laid out her mat in the living room instead of the kitchen, moving with the precision of someone trained not to make noise. Push-ups. Planks. Core work. Controlled, efficient. No grunting. No dropped weight. She checked the time after each set, lips pressed thin.

When she finished, her muscles were warm and loose. Good. Productive.

Dad would approve of this. And she appreciated that she hadn’t woken anybody up.

She slipped on her running shoes and stepped outside.

The air was cold, but not biting yet, the kind of winter morning that she had learn to tolerate, the kind that to her, still felt manageable. Her breath puffed white as she ran, rhythm steady, pace strong. No slipping. No hesitation and she finished in a good time.

Dad would approve of this.

Satisfied.

Back inside, she peeled off her damp clothes, quickly showered before getting dressed in warmer clothes, sweatpants, one of Carina’s hoodies, sue her for wanting her girlfriend’s clothes, and fuzzy socks. 

She quickly peeked over her shoulder, finding Carina still fast asleep, before walking back downstairs where she located her meal plan.

Breakfast portion, exact measurements. She scanned the kitchen trying to find something that matched close enough until she spotted the cereal.

That would do.

She was measuring it when Lucia walked in, still in her robe. “Maya, buongiorno.”

Years of circling around Lane had done one thing for her, she had already heard Lucia silently moving upstairs. “Good morning, I’m just trying to get the measurements right.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the front door, clocking the running shoes. She took in Maya properly, the still damp hair, flushed cheeks. She chose to ignore it, for now. “You are up early.” 

“Yes,” the blonde replied quickly. “I always am.”

Lucia nodded, reaching for a mug. “Tea?”

“No, thank you. I just need this.” She said, gesturing to the bowl.

Lucia looked at the portion before taking another bowl from the cupboard, setting it beside it and adding fruit without asking. 

“That’s- I usually-”

“I know,” Lucia replied calmly, “And today you can have a little more.”

Maya swallowed. “My dad-”

“Is not here,” Lucia said gently. “And you are safe. You will be okay.”

Maya stared at the counter, chest tight. This felt like a test she didn’t know how to pass.

Lucia softened further. “Sit,” she said. “Please.”

Maya obeyed.

Lucia slid the bowl closer. “Eat slowly. Carina will wake soon.”

Maya glanced toward the stairs. “She’s still asleep.”

“She deserves it,” Lucia said. “So do you.”

Maya took a bite.

Then another.

Lucia said nothing else. She didn’t praise. She didn’t push. She simply stayed, sipping her coffee, presence steady.

When Maya finished, more than planned, less than Lucia probably wanted, she set the spoon down, nerves buzzing.

Lucia glanced at the empty bowl. “Bene,” she said. “That is good.”

Good.

Not excessive. Not too much.

Maya exhaled, just a little.

From upstairs came the faint sound of a door opening, followed by Carina’s sleepy voice calling, “Maya?”

Maya looked up instinctively.

Lucia smiled. “You can wait here, she can come downstairs. She needs food too.”

Not even a minute later, her girlfriend arrived. Sleep still in her eyes, messy hair, wrapped in an oversized sweater. 

“You ran.”

It wasn’t a question, and Maya’s shoulders tensed. “I didn’t wake anyone, and I made a good time.”

Carina stepped closer, eyes scanning her like she was checking for injuries. “How far?”

“Not far,” Maya said quickly. “It wasn’t too cold yet. I was back before six-thirty.”

Carina exhaled through her nose. “Maya.”

“I’m fine,” Maya insisted. “I needed to keep my time.”

Carina leaned against the counter, folding her arms, not angry, but firm. “Did you feel like you had to?”

Maya hesitated. “It’s what I do.”

Carina studied her face, then softened. “Mamma saw you, didn’t she?”

Maya shook her head. “She didn’t say anything.”

“She did,” Carina corrected gently. “But she’s not going to be mad at you. I’m not either bambina. Do I wish you would’ve stayed inside? Warm? Sì, but I’m not mad, bambina.”

Maya’s mouth twitched despite herself.

Carina reached out and took her girlfriend’s hands, rubbing warmth back into her fingers. “Next time, you tell me. Or we go together. Or we don’t go at all.”

Maya frowned. “But-”

“No,” Carina said quietly. “You are not in trouble. But you are not alone anymore.”

Maya swallowed. “I didn’t want to mess this up.”

Carina’s voice softened even further. “You didn’t.”

She leaned in and kissed Maya’s forehead, lingering, grounding. “You did what you’ve been trained to do. But when you’re here, you get to have different rules.”

Maya rested her forehead against Carina’s shoulder, tension finally easing. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m worried,” Carina said honestly. “And very much in love with you.”

Maya huffed a quiet laugh into her sweater. “I’m very much in love with you as well.”

From the living room, Lucia called, “Carina! If you are stealing Maya, you are helping me with breakfast!”

Carina smiled. “See? You’re already part of the family.”

Maya didn’t argue.

She just squeezed Carina’s hand a little tighter and let herself believe, maybe just for today, that this didn’t have to be earned.

The girls were sprawled on the floor with a half-finished puzzle between them, Christmas music humming softly from the kitchen. Carina was lying on her stomach, chin propped in her hands, while Maya sorted pieces by color with military precision.

Andrew wandered in, barefoot, carrying a mug of hot chocolate.

He stopped, watching them for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“Being extremely competitive,” Carina said. “And winning.”

Maya snorted. “You placed three pieces.”

Andrew plopped down on the couch. “It’s almost Christmas.”

“Yes,” Carina said, instantly suspicious.

Andrea tilted her head. “What do you do for Christmas at home, Maya?”

Carina’s head snapped up. “Andrea.”

“It’s just a question.”

Carina pushed herself up onto her elbows. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Maya hesitated, fingers stilling over the puzzle pieces. For a moment, she considered deflecting. Joking. Shrugging it off.

Instead, she took a breath.

“I didn’t really celebrate it,” she said quietly.

He frowned. “Like… never?”

Maya shrugged. “We trained. Or my dad worked. It wasn’t a thing.”

Carina reached for Maya’s hand immediately, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a grounding, protective gesture.

Andrew’s expression shifted, confusion giving way to something gentler. “That’s sad.”

Maya flinched. “It was normal.”

He simply shook his head. “No. It’s sad.”

Carina opened her mouth, clearly ready to go to war. But Maya squeezed her hand. “It’s okay.”

Andrew leaned forward again. “Did you get presents?”

Maya nodded once. “Yeah. Running shoes. Clothes. Stuff like that.”

“No toys?” He pressed.

Maya hesitated. “I never got any, but I always hoped I’d get one of those GI Joes. When I was really little.”

Carina’s grip tightened. while Andrew’s eyes widened. “Like the action figures?”

Maya nodded. “I used to make them run obstacle courses in school.” A faint smile ghosted over her lips. “My dad said they were a distraction.”

Andrew scoffed. “Adults ruin everything.”

Carina shot him a look. “Andrea.”

“It’s true.”

There was a quiet beat.

“I’m sorry,” Andrea said more softly. “That you didn’t get to do Christmas.”

Maya swallowed. “I don’t really know what I missed.”

Carina leaned in, pressing her forehead against Maya’s temple. “You’ll find out.”

Andrew smiled, standing up. “Good. Because we’re doing Christmas very loudly this year.”

As Andrew left, Carina turned to her girlfriend, brown eyes soft but fierce. “You don’t owe anyone those answers.”

“I know,” Maya said. “I just… didn’t want to hide it.”

Carina kissed her knuckles. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

The house had settled into its night-time quiet, the kind that felt lived-in, not watchful.

Maya changed quickly, folding her clothes with the same care she used for everything else. She hesitated only a second before turning off the lamp.

Carina was already under the covers, hair loose against the pillow, watching her with a small smile.

“You okay?” Carina asked.

Maya nodded. “Yeah.”

She climbed into bed without waiting for instructions, without hovering at the edge like the night before. She slid beneath the covers and, after a moment’s thought, shifted closer.

Carina didn’t move, she let Maya decide. There was no rush, no pressure. Just them.

Maya adjusted again, turning onto her side, shoulder pressing into Carina’s chest. Her leg draped over Carina’s, natural, unforced. She exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding her breath all day.

Carina’s arm came around her automatically.

“Good?” Carina murmured.

“Good,” Maya said.

They lay there in the dim light, the room warm and still. Somewhere down the hall, Lucia’s door clicked shut. No footsteps followed. No checking.

Maya swallowed.

“She really meant it,” Maya said quietly.

Carina smiled into her hair. “My mamma does not say things she doesn’t mean.”

Maya shifted, settling more fully into her. Her forehead pressed against Carina’s collarbone, breath evening out.

“I didn’t feel wrong today,” she admitted. “For sitting. Or eating.”

Carina’s hand stilled at her back. “That’s good.”

Maya nodded, eyes already drifting closed. “I think… I could get used to this.”

Carina kissed the top of her head. “Careful,” she teased softly. “You might.”

Maya huffed a quiet laugh, then went still,  not rigid, not braced. Just resting.

For the first time in a long while, sleep came easily.

Wednesday, December 24th

Maya woke up at five-thirty. Her body did it automatically, before her brain had a chance to argue. She lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to Carina’s slow, even breathing beside her. The house was quiet. Safe. No whistles. No doors slamming.

The DeLuca’s didn’t want her out of bed yet, they were clear about that. 

“You need to sleep, Maya. No alarms before six thirty.”

She’d been given another rule as well, “No running outside if it’s cold enough to hurt.”

But runs often hurt, so why couldn’t the cold add to that? Dad said the cold would do her good, a good excerise.

Maya swallowed, then rolled onto her side and watched Carina sleep for a while. She counted breaths. Thirty minutes passed.

That felt like winning something.

She slipped out of bed quietly and padded into the living room, laying her mat out on the floor. She kept the movements small and controlled, planks, core work, slow push-ups, nothing that would make noise.

When she finished, her muscles were warm, not screaming.

In the kitchen, she opened her backpack and pulled out her carefully portioned breakfast. Everything was measured. Labeled. Familiar.

She had tried with improvising yesterday. Maybe today could be safe.

She was lining it up on the counter when Lucia appeared in the doorway, robe wrapped tight, hair still damp from the shower.

“Maya,” Lucia said gently. “Good morning.”

Maya startled. “I- I waited. Before getting up.”

“I know,” Lucia said. “I heard nothing.”

Maya nodded, relief flickering before she focused again on the food. “This is my breakfast.”

Lucia looked at it. “I’ll get you some pancakes too when I make them for the other two.”.

Maya froze.

“That’s too much,” she said quickly. “I’m not supposed to-”

“You are supposed to eat.”

Maya’s fingers hovered uselessly in the air. “My dad-”

Lucia met her eyes. “Your father is not here.”

The words landed again, steadier this time.

Andrew stomped in then, still in pyjama pants. He took one look at Maya’s original portions and groaned loudly.

“Madonna,” he said. “You eat like a little bird.”

Maya flushed. “It’s enough.”

Carina appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She took in the scene instantly, Maya still in the kitchen with her plate, her mamma starting on the pancake batter and smiled.

Maya waited to be handed a pancake as well. A part of her was screaming, it felt wrong.

But… it also felt warm.

The day moved slowly, like it knew better than to rush them.

Lucia put a movie on in the living room, something old and dubbed badly into Italian. Andrew complained but stayed anyway. Carina pulled a blanket over Maya’s legs without asking.

Maya tried not to flinch when she didn’t get told to get up.

At some point, Lucia set bowls on the table with cookie dough and flour dusted the counter. “We bake,” she announced.

“I don’t bake,” Maya said automatically.

“Yes, you do,” Lucia replied, handing her a spoon.

Maya hesitated, then stirred carefully, like she was afraid of doing it wrong, though you could see her confidence increasing as the seconds passed by. Andrew stole dough and got yelled at, kindly, in a way that didn’t make Maya flinch. And Carina seemed to enjoy wiping flour on Maya’s cheek, while also wiping it off with her thumb, smile on her face.

Later, cookies in the oven, Lucia put a box of ornaments on the floor with the announcement that the tree wasn’t finished yet.

Maya stared at it. She hadn’t decorated a tree before. She didn’t even think they’ve ever had a proper tree before, let alone that her dad would ever let her decorate one.

Lucia waved a hand. “You hang. It is not a test.”

Maya chose one, simple, wooden, and placed it carefully on a low branch. No one corrected her.

Carina leaned in. “Perfect.”

Later, cheeks hurting from all the laughing and Andrew covered in tinsel, Carina pulled her girlfriend down on the couch with her, a pile of blankets and limbs. Maya watched snow fall outside, untouched and quiet.

“This is… a lot,” Maya admitted softly.

Carina kissed her shoulder. “Good or bad?”

Maya thought about it. “Good. I think.”

In the afternoon, Andrew dragged them into a board game Maya had never played. She learned the rules quickly, too quickly, waiting for comments that never came, only laughter when she got something wrong.

The house dimmed gradually, like it was tucking itself in.

Lucia clicked off the living room lights while Andrew yawned loudly and announced he was going to bed first, which made Carina roll her eyes. The last of the dishes were drying on the counter, the smell of cinnamon still lingering in the air.

Maya lingered, unsure when to move.

“You ready?” Carina asked softly.

Maya nodded. “Yeah.”

In Carina’s room, the lights were low, the Christmas glow from outside slipping through the curtains. Maya changed quietly, folding her clothes again, habit, then paused.

Carina watched her from the bed. “You don’t have to be careful tonight.”

Maya glanced over. “I know.”

She climbed into bed anyway, steady this time. No hovering. No asking. She shifted until she was pressed against Carina, one arm draped across her waist like it belonged there.

Carina smiled into the darkness. They lay there for a while, listening to the house breathe around them.

“I liked today,” Maya said eventually.

 “Me too.” Carina hummed.

“It didn’t feel… earned,” Maya admitted softly. “No one told me I had to deserve it.”

Carina turned onto her side, brushing her nose against the blonde’s. “You never do.”

Maya swallowed. “I think… if my dad were here, today wouldn’t have happened.”

Carina didn’t deny it. They both knew he would’ve never allowed it. But that wasn’t the point, not right now. So for now she just tightened her arm around Maya.

“But he’s not,” Carina said quietly. “And you’re here.”

Maya nodded, eyes heavy. “I’m glad.”

There was a knock on the door, soft and deliberate. Yet Maya stiffened automatically.

 “Girls?” Lucia’s voice came through the wood.

Carina answered easily. “Yes, Mamma.”

Lucia opened the door just enough to peek in. She smiled when she saw them curled together. “Buona notte,” she said. “Tomorrow we wake up slowly.”

Maya’s chest loosened while Lucia’s gaze flicked to her. “You are safe here, Maya.”

Maya nodded. “I know.”

Lucia closed the door quietly before Carina kissed Maya’s temple. “See?”

At that, Maya exhaled fully, finally letting her weight sink into the mattress. As sleep pulled her under, she realized something strange. She wasn’t dreading tomorrow.

She was looking forward to it.

Thursday, December 25th

This morning, when Maya woke up it was to light. Not an alarm, not a voice. Just pale winter sun slipping through the curtains. 

Eight A.M.

She didn’t move at first. Carina was still asleep, warm and heavy against her with an arm thrown over Maya’s waist like she’d claimed her sometime in the night. Though, Maya didn’t mind. 

For now she just stared at the ceiling, listening to the house, distant footsteps, muffled laughter and the low hum of music. 

She still stayed.

It felt strange, letting time pass without permission. But when Carina finally stirred, it was with a sleepy hum and a low stretch. “Mmm. Buon Natale,” she murmured, voice still rough with sleep.

And it was then that she realized this was worth it. Waking up next to her girlfriend? With her sleepily clinging on to her? 

Better than any run.

“Merry Christmas.” Maya smiled into her hair.

They stayed tangled together for a while longer, no one knocking, no one calling them down. Maya noticed the clock at some point and felt a flicker of unease, but nothing happened.

No consequences.

Eventually, Carina dragged her out of bed by the hand, Carina still half-asleep, and down into the living room.

The tree was lit. There were presents underneath.

Maya froze just inside the doorway.

She had brought gifts but… she didn’t expect the tree to be so full.

“For you,” Carina said gently, nudging a small, carefully wrapped box toward her.

Maya hesitated, then knelt and peeled the paper back.

She stared.

It was a GI Joe.

The kind she remembered. The kind with bendable knees and a serious face and too much equipment.

Her chest tightened painfully.

“I-” Maya swallowed. “You didn’t have to-”

Carina crouched beside her, eyes bright. “I wanted to.”

Maya picked it up like it might disappear if she held it too tightly. Her hands were shaking, she laughed once, sharp and breathless, and then had to look away fast, blinking hard.

Carina’s hand found her knee. “Hey.”

Maya scrubbed at her face. “I’m fine.”

Lucia didn’t push. She just watched with soft understanding.

The living room looked like a war zone of torn paper and ribbons by the time they were almost done, but nobody seemed to care. Andrew had claimed the largest pile, and Maya had been laughing too hard to protest.

Carina picked up a small box with Maya’s handwriting. “What’s this?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Open it,” Maya said, bouncing slightly, unable to hide her grin.

Carina tore the paper carefully. Inside was a necklace with the letters C and M intertwined hanging from it. Her eyes softened. “Maya…” she murmured, lifting her up for a quick hug. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Maya said, shrugging, cheeks pink.

Carina laughed and held it up. “I’ll be wearing this everyday. I promise. But you know you’re never going to give me a better present than this right?”

And then Carina handed her a small, squishy gift. Maya unwrapped it carefully and gasped. Inside was a Jellycat marshmallow, a soft, white plush one, similar to the pink one Carina had unwrapped just moments earlier.

“Half of a set,” Carina said, grinning. “You have yours, I have mine. So even if we’re apart, it’s like-” she squeezed Maya’s hand, “-we’re still connected.”

Maya hugged it to her chest, eyes sparkling. “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered.

They looked at each other, and Carina kissed her softly on the temple. “We make a good team,” she said.

Maya nodded, smiling. “The best.”

Later, when they recapped everything for Andrew and Lucia, Carina showed it all off, a constant smile on her face. “Okay, so here’s what Maya got: a GI Joe doll she refuses to put down, her new hoodie, Oreos she’ll hoard here forever, and… half a Jellycat marshmallow. Is that everything?”

Maya nodded emphatically. “Yeah. But the GI Joe and Jellycat are my favorites.”

Carina rolled her eyes with a grin. “Of course it is. And I get my pink marshmallow, so it’s fair.”

Maya sat on the couch, the GI Joe resting in her hands, Carina tucked against her side. She kept waiting for the itch, the need to ask, to check, to justify having a meal.

It never came.

The strangeness of it settled in her chest instead.

Skipping breakfast because she wasn’t hungry yet felt different than being told she wasn’t allowed.

That difference mattered.

Maya leaned into Carina, letting her head rest against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Carina kissed her hair. “Always.”

Outside, snow fell quietly.

And for once, Christmas wasn’t loud or demanding.

It was gentle.

Maya ate three times before she realized she’d stopped counting.

Lucia pressed food into her hands like it was the most natural thing in the world, a biscotto with tea, a slice of panettone “just to taste,” a bowl of soup she hadn’t asked for. Every time Maya stiffened, Lucia only smiled.

“You are allowed,” she said, over and over.

After lunch, Carina immediately stole Maya’s hoodie and refused to give it back. And while Maya pretended to be annoyed, she didn’t fight it very hard.

She was still in Carina’s hoodie so maybe this was fair.

They watched two movies back-to-back. Maya dozed through parts of the second one, head in Carina’s lap, the GI Joe tucked safely in the crook of the couch like a secret. No one woke her.

In the afternoon, Lucia brought out leftovers and Maya simply stared at the spread. “We already ate.”

Lucia shrugged. “Yes. And?”

Andrew piled Maya’s plate high without asking. “You need fuel,” he said smugly.

Maya ate slowly, uncertain, then a little faster when nothing bad happened.

Later, Carina dragged her upstairs and made her lie down “just for a minute.” They didn’t sleep. They talked, about nothing, about everything. About how Carina used to sneak candy before dinner. About how Maya used to count steps in her room when she couldn’t run.

When they went back downstairs, Lucia had hot chocolate waiting. Real hot chocolate. Thick. Sweet. And for once Maya didn’t hesitate, she just took the drink and had a sip. No doubting, no questions.

By evening, her body felt heavy, not wrong, just full. Tired in a way that didn’t feel like failure.

They ate again.

Maya laughed, sudden and surprised, at something Andrew said. It burst out of her before she could stop it. Carina stared at her like it was the best thing she’d ever seen.

That night, curled into Carina in bed, Maya stared at the ceiling and let the day replay in her head. It had been loud. And strange. And overwhelming. She had broken rules she didn’t know how to unlearn yet. She had eaten more than she thought she was allowed to.

She had rested without permission.

Her chest ached, not with guilt, but with something warmer and sharper. “I liked today,” she said quietly.

“I know.” Carina said, pressing a kiss into her hair.

She absentmindedly turned her GI Joe in her hands until Carina’s hands came to rest on her wrists. “You okay?” 

She nodded. “Yeah. Just… a lot.”

Carina smiled gently. “Good a lot or bad a lot?”

Maya thought about it. “Good. Just… overwhelming.”

Carina leaned in, slow enough that Maya could pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. Their lips met, soft at first, careful. Not rushed. Not hidden.

Maya sighed into it before she could stop herself, hands sliding up to Carina’s waist, Gi Joe forgotten, instead grounding herself there. Carina kissed her again, a little deeper this time, lingering like she didn’t want to let go yet.

It was more than they’d ever do in a hallway or behind the school gym. But still innocent. Still gentle. When they finally pulled back, Carina rested her forehead against Maya’s.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

Maya smiled, eyes a little glassy. “Best one I’ve ever had.”

Carina kissed her once more, quick, sweet,  then tugged her into a hug instead, arms tight and safe. Maya relaxed into it, cheek against Carina’s shoulder, heart steadying.

For the first time, she didn’t feel like she had to earn this.

She was just allowed to have it.

Friday, December 26th

That morning, the cold woke her before the light did. Maya lay still, listening to the wind rattle against the window, the house wrapped in a silence that felt thicker than usual. The clock read 6:02.

Lucia’s rules surfaced immediately: “No running outside if it’s cold enough to hurt.”

Maya swallowed. Her body felt heavy from the day before, full, warm, unpunished. That made something in her twist.

You rested yesterday, her father’s voice echoed. You ate too much. You skipped your run.

Guilt settled like ice in her chest.

She slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake Carina. She dressed fast, shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, ignoring the way the air bit at her bare legs. Shoes. 

If I do it fast, it doesn’t count as breaking a rule, she told herself.

The door creaked when she slipped outside. The world was frozen solid. Ice glazed the sidewalk, glittering faintly in the early light. Her breath puffed white immediately, sharp in her lungs. She started running before she could think too hard about it.

Her muscles protested. Her knees ached. The cold burned. Good, she thought dimly. That means it’s working. Her thoughts spiraled as her feet hit the ground, one after the other.

You don’t deserve this week.
You’re getting soft.
They’re only being nice because they don’t know better.

She pushed harder.

The cold seeped in fast, her fingers were stiff, thighs numb, chest tight. Her breathing turned shallow, each inhale slicing.

You should be better than this.

She didn’t stop when her feet started to slip. She didn’t stop when her vision blurred at the edges.

When she finally stumbled back up the driveway, she could barely feel her hands. The door opened before she could knock and Lucia’s face drained of color instantly.

“Maya,” she said sharply. Carina appeared behind her, still in pajamas. Her eyes went wide.

Maya tried to speak. Her teeth chattered too hard.

“I- I just needed- ”

Lucia grabbed her shoulders, firm and unyielding. “Inside. Now.”

Maya let herself be pulled in, shivering violently, skin cold enough to hurt when hands touched it. Carina wrapped a blanket around her like she was afraid Maya might disappear.

“You broke the rule,” Carina whispered, not angry. Terrified.

Maya nodded, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Lucia didn’t yell. That was worse. Even the warm mug she pressed into Maya’s hands was somehow worse. 

And for the first time, Maya wondered, not if she’d failed, no. She wondered why stopping felt so much scarier than freezing.

She was wrapped in blankets on the couch, fingers curled stiffly around a mug Lucia had pressed into her hands. Her skin still felt wrong, not numb anymore, but aching as warmth crept back in sharp, uncomfortable waves.

Carina knelt in front of her, rubbing her hands gently, breath shaky. “You scared me,” she whispered.

“I’m okay,” Maya said automatically, voice thin. “I just-”

Lucia straightened, about to say something firm and grounding when the phone rang.

The sound was sharp. Intrusive.

Lucia glanced at the screen. Her jaw tightened just a fraction. “It’s your father.”

Maya’s stomach dropped. Of course it was.

Carina’s hand stilled in hers. “You don’t have to answer,” she said quickly.

Lucia hesitated, then handed Maya the phone. “Your choice.”

Maya swallowed, then nodded. “I should.”

It was her dad, she didn’t have a choice.

She lifted it with clumsy fingers. “Hi, Dad.”

Lane’s voice came through crisp and controlled. “Checking in. Everything on schedule?”

Maya’s eyes flicked to Lucia, to Carina, to the blanket tucked around her shoulders like an accusation.

“Yes, sir,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Runs?”

“Yes.”

“This morning too?”

“Slippery but I didn’t fall.”

“Meals?”

Maya hesitated. Just a beat.

“Yes.”

Lucia’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Carina looked like she might cry or scream, maybe both.

“Good,” Lane said. “Consistency matters, especially this time of year. Disruptions build weakness.”

Maya nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “I know.”

“Lucia enforcing everything?”

Maya’s throat tightened. “Yes, sir.”

Lucia reached out and placed a hand on Maya’s knee, steady, grounding, a silent breathe.

“Put her on,” Lane said, no question if she could, just the demand.

Lucia took the phone calmly. “Lane.”

“I trust Maya is being kept on track,” he said coolly.

Lucia’s voice was polite. Controlled. “She is being cared for.”

There was a pause. “That is not the same thing.”

Lucia didn’t rise to it. “In my house,” she said evenly, “it is.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“No distractions,” Lane added. “No indulgence. She has goals.”

Lucia glanced at Maya, pale, shaking, wrapped in three blankets.

“Yes,” she said. “She does.”

Lane exhaled sharply. “Good. Keep her focused.”

The call ended and the silence afterward was deafening.

Maya stared at the phone in her lap, shame flooding back in all at once. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I messed up.”

Carina shook her head fiercely. “No. You didn’t.”

Lucia knelt in front of her, eyes level, voice low but unyielding. “You did not mess up.”

Maya’s lips trembled. “I broke the rule.”

“Yes,” Lucia said gently. “And now we deal with why.” She tucked the blanket more securely around Maya’s shoulders. “First, we warm you. Then we talk.”

Carina squeezed Maya’s hands, holding on like she meant to anchor her.

Lucia didn’t rush it.

She never did, not when it mattered. Not when the instinct was to fix, to scold, to demand answers immediately. Instead, she moved with quiet intention, grounding the room by simply being there.

She took Maya’s shoes off first, fingers firm and practiced, thumbs pressing briefly into frozen arches before sliding the damp fabric free. She winced at how cold Maya’s ankles still were, how the skin felt almost unreal beneath her touch. Too cold. Still too cold.

Carina hovered nearby, hands useless and trembling, her panic burning itself out in sharp, shallow breaths. She didn’t know where to put herself, what to do with all the fear still buzzing under her skin.

“Blanket,” Lucia said calmly. “Another.”

Carina reacted instantly, nodding, grabbing one, then another, then hesitating as if unsure how many were too many. She layered them carefully over Maya’s shoulders and legs, slow and deliberate, like Maya might shatter if she moved too fast. Like warmth itself needed permission.

Lucia swapped the mug for a warmer one, testing the ceramic against her own wrist before guiding Maya’s hands around it again.

“Slow,” she instructed. “Sip.”

Maya obeyed. She always did, when the voice was like that. Her shoulders were still drawn tight as if she could fold herself smaller, disappear into the blankets entirely.

As the heat seeped back in, her skin began to burn, sharp, uncomfortable, almost painful. She hissed softly, breath catching as sensation returned too fast, too bright. Carina noticed immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Maya whispered, reflexive and automatic. “I didn’t mean to-”

Lucia held up a hand. Not unkind. Firm. “Not yet.” She sat beside Maya, solid and unmoving, a quiet weight against her side. She waited. Let the moment stretch. Let Maya’s body catch up before asking her mind to do the same. She watched until the shaking eased, until Maya’s breathing slowed, until some color returned to her cheeks and the blue faded from her lips.

Only then did Lucia speak.

“You ran,” she said calmly. No accusation. Just fact. “In freezing weather. After I told you not to.”

Maya nodded, shame curling tight in her chest, familiar and heavy. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Maya stared into her mug like the answer might be floating there. Her voice came out small, stripped bare. “Because I had to.”

Carina’s breath caught sharply. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Maya insisted softly, almost pleading. “It felt like… if I didn’t, then yesterday didn’t count. Like it was fake.” She swallowed. “Like I cheated.”

Lucia leaned back slightly, giving her space instead of pressure. “Can you explain it?”

Maya’s hands tightened around the mug until her knuckles went pale. “I rested. I ate. I didn’t earn it.” The words rushed out now, brittle and fragile. “Every time I wasn’t training, it felt like I was doing something wrong. Like I was stealing something I didn’t deserve.”

Carina shook her head, tears already clinging to her lashes. “You weren’t stealing.”

“I know that,” Maya said quickly, desperate to be understood. Then quieter, more honest, “But my body doesn’t.”

Lucia nodded once. “That makes sense.”

Maya looked up at her, startled. “It does?”

“Yes,” Lucia said simply. “You have been taught that rest is a failure. That food is a reward. That stillness is something to be punished.” She didn’t soften the truth. “Those lessons do not disappear because we give you pancakes and presents.”

Maya’s throat burned. She blinked hard. “When my dad called… I lied.”

Lucia’s gaze sharpened with focus. “Why?”

“Because if he knew,” Maya said, voice breaking now, “then this would end. And I didn’t want it to.” She gestured weakly at the room, at Carina, at the warmth. “I didn’t want to lose this.”

Carina reached for her immediately, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Maya leaned into her without thinking, muscles giving in at last.

Lucia waited for the moment to settle before speaking again. “Breaking my rule was not the worst part.”

Maya flinched.

“The worst part,” Lucia continued evenly, “is that you put yourself in danger because guilt felt safer than rest.”

The words landed heavy and exact.

“I didn’t mean to,” Maya whispered, tears finally slipping free.

“I know,” Lucia said. “But intention does not change consequence.” She leaned forward, voice firmer now. “You scared us. You could have hurt yourself badly.”

Carina nodded, tears spilling freely now, her grip tightening. “I thought-” She broke off, pressing her face into Maya’s shoulder, voice muffled. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Maya’s arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

“That,” Lucia said gently but sharply, “is the problem.”

Maya went still.

“You do not need to earn care,” Lucia said. “You do not need to punish yourself for joy. And you do not get to disappear on us to prove something.”

Maya nodded, tears soaking into the blankets. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Lucia softened then, reaching out to place a steady hand on Maya’s knee. “Then we practice.”

She met Maya’s eyes, unwavering. “Next time you feel that urge, the need to run because you feel wrong, you come to us. You say it. Even if it feels stupid. Especially then.”

Maya nodded again, slower this time. “Okay.”

Carina pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red and searching. “Promise?”

Maya pressed her forehead to Carina’s, breathing her in. “I promise to try.”

Lucia stood a moment later, satisfied, not because Maya was magically fixed. Not like one conversation undid years of training, not because the lesson was complete, but because she had stayed. Because she had told the truth.

“Good,” Lucia said. “Now you rest.”

Maya exhaled, heavy and spent, letting herself sink back into the couch, into the blankets, into Carina’s arms.

The soup was simple.

Lucia set the bowl on the coffee table, steam curling gently into the air. Maya ate it slowly, carefully, like she was afraid of doing it wrong again. No one commented on the amount. No one rushed her.

Carina stayed close, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, one hand wrapped around Maya’s ankle like she needed the contact to keep her grounded. 

When Maya finished, Lucia took the bowl and replaced it with another blanket.

“Sleep,” she said, not unkindly. “Your body needs it.”

Maya nodded, exhausted in a way that went deeper than muscle. She drifted in and out, aware only of warmth and weight, Carina’s hand still there, Lucia moving quietly around the kitchen, the house breathing softly.

At some point, Maya woke to find Carina half-curled beside her on the couch, head resting on Maya’s shoulder. Lucia had draped a blanket over both of them. Maya shifted slightly and Carina immediately stirred.

“I’m here,” Carina whispered, like she’d been afraid Maya would vanish.

Maya swallowed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” Carina said. “But you did.”

Maya nodded. “I’ll try not to again.”

Carina tilted her head, pressing a gentle kiss to Maya’s jaw. “That’s all I want.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Snow kept falling outside, thick and soft, like the world was cushioning itself. Later, Lucia brought tea. Maya drank it without asking if she should. That felt like progress.

That night, they didn’t talk much.

Maya went to bed early, wrapped in clean pyjamas that Lucia had insisted on. Carina climbed in with her and didn’t let go.

Maya was still awake.

There was a soft knock, but Lucia didn't wait for an answer.

She opened the door just enough to step inside, careful not to turn on the light. The glow from the hallway framed her for a moment before she closed it behind her. Maya stiffened instinctively, even now.

Lucia sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly, solid and grounding. Her voice was gentle, but there was no softness in the boundary beneath it.

“You are sixteen,” she said quietly. “You do not owe anyone this kind of punishment,” Lucia continued. “Not your father. Not a schedule. Not some idea of who you’re supposed to be.” She paused, letting the words land. “You are a child. And you are loved. And you are safe here.”

Maya’s chest tightened. Her eyes burned. She nodded, once, because that’s all she could manage. Lucia’s hand rested briefly over the blankets near Maya’s knee, warm, steady. “Now rest, please.”

She stood, pressed a soft kiss to Carina’s hair, and left without another word.

The door closed and for a few seconds, Maya just breathed.

But then Carina shifted. She turned to face her fully now, propping herself up on one elbow. In the dark, her expression was serious, though sleepy.

“I need to say something,” Carina murmured.

“Okay.” Maya said, stomach twisting.

Carina exhaled slowly. “I’m not letting you freeze yourself because your father won’t let you breathe.”

The words were quiet, but they hit hard.

“If you stay with me,” Carina continued, voice steady, “you follow our rules.” She reached out, brushing her thumb gently over Maya’s knuckles. “You take care of yourself. You eat. You rest. And you do not go running in the cold to punish yourself.”

Maya’s throat closed. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” Carina said immediately. “But I don’t care what you meant. I care what you do.” Her voice softened. “I can’t lose you. Not to something as stupid as the cold.”

Maya nods, shame and relief tangling in her chest. “I won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Carina searched her face. “No running. Promise.”

“I promise,” Maya said again, firmer this time.

Only then did Carina relax, her shoulders easing. She shifted closer, sliding an arm around Maya’s waist and pulling her in. Maya went willingly, curling into her, pressing her forehead against Carina’s collarbone.

Carina’s leg hooked over hers. Protective. Certain.

Maya let herself stay there.

For once, staying felt like enough.

Her body still hummed with unease. But underneath it, something new was there.

Relief.

She hadn’t been punished.

She hadn’t been sent away.

She hadn’t lost them.

Maya turned slightly, tucking herself closer to Carina, and let her eyes finally close.

Saturday, December 27th

The day unfolded slowly, deliberately, like no one was in a hurry to let it end.

They watched movies, not one, but several, sprawled across the couch in mismatched positions. Old holiday ones Lucia insisted still counted, even though Andrew groaned dramatically.

“But it’s the twenty-seventh,” he protested.

Lucia didn’t even look up from her knitting. “That doesn’t matter.”

Maya sat cross-legged on the floor at first, back against the couch, until Carina tugged her up beside her and pulled a blanket over both of them, pressing a soft kiss to Maya’s cheek.

They played games, cards and a board game Andrew insisted Maya was “too serious” for. Maya lost once, revelling in the way she didn’t get yelled at. But she did make sure to win the next round. Even if it meant Andrew accused her of cheating and making Lucia laugh at them.

And after lunch, Carina sat Maya on the edge of the coffee table with a bottle of nail polish balanced carefully in her hand.

“It’s temporary,” Carina promised. “I will remove it before tomorrow.”

Maya watched the color spread across her nails, something dark and wintry. She kept her hands very still, her heart racing like she was doing something illicit.

When it was done, she flexed her fingers, stunned. “Okay,” she murmured. “I kind of love it.”

Carina grinned, a proud look quickly taking over on her face.

All day, Maya had carried her GI Joe everywhere. From the bathroom, to the couch, to the kitchen, careful to keep it tucked into a pocket or under a blanket. No one comments. But both Lucia and Carina knew. They noticed.

Their hands found each other under blankets again and again, fingers threading together, palms warm. Even though Lucia knew. Even though Andrew definitely knew too. It still felt like something precious, something just theirs.

Every time Maya stiffened, a raised voice in a movie, a sudden laugh, a door closing, Carina leaned in and kissed her cheek. No questions. No commentary.

By evening, the house smelled like leftovers and sugar and something baked just because it felt right. Christmas music played softly again, unapologetically out of season.

“But it’s the twenty-seventh,” Maya said quietly this time. Carina smiles at her, thumb brushing over Maya’s knuckles.  “That doesn’t matter.”

By the time they went upstairs, the house was dim and sleepy, the kind of quiet that hums instead of presses.

Maya changed quickly, tugging on an oversized shirt Lucia insists is “for comfort,” then hesitated by the bed like she was still asking permission. Carina noticed and just reached out, fingers catching hers.

“Come on,” she murmured. “It’s ours.”

That was all it took. They slid under the covers together, the sheets cool for only a second before warmth settled in. Carina rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand, studying Maya like she’s memorizing her.

“You had a good day,” she said, no hesitation, no question. Maya smiled, small but real. “Yeah. I did.”

Carina traced a lazy line along Maya’s arm, fingertip light, almost ticklish. “You smiled more.”

“Because you kept cheating at cards.”

Carina gasped, she pretended to be offended even if she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face. “I did not cheat.”

“You absolutely did.”

“Only a little,” Carina admitted, leaning in. “And only because I wanted to win your attention.”

Maya laughed, a quiet, breathy sound, and Carina felt like she’s won something far more important.

They lay there for a while, legs tangled, Maya’s head tucked just under Carina’s chin. The room smelt faintly of pine and clean laundry, like Christmas hadn’t quite decided to leave yet.

Carina pressed a soft kiss to Maya’s temple. Then another, lower, brushing her cheek. “You know,” she murmured, “if we were in a movie, this would be the part where it starts snowing again.”

Maya hummed. “Even though it’s over?”

Carina shrugged. “Christmas magic. It’s flexible.”

Maya smiles into her shoulder. “I like that.”

“I like you.” Carina grins, fingers squeezing her gently.

Maya tilted her head up, just enough to kiss Carina, slow, sweet, unhurried. It tasted like cocoa and sugar and something hopeful.

When they pulled apart, Maya stayed close, forehead resting against Carina’s. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For… this.” She gestured vaguely, then settled back in, tucking her leg over Carina’s. “For letting it last.”

Carina kissed the corner of her mouth with a smile. “Always.”

They drifted off like that, wrapped together, hands still linked, the world outside frozen and distant.

Sunday, December 28th

The last morning felt different. Not sad exactly, just heavier, like everyone was aware of the clock even when no one mentioned it.

Carina sat on the edge of the bed with a cotton pad and remover, carefully wiping the polish from Maya’s nails. The color came away slowly, leaving her hands plain again. Familiar.

“Temporary,” Carina murmured, just like she promised.

Maya watched it disappear, something small in her chest tightening. “I liked it,” she admitted.

Carina smiled softly. “We’ll do it again.”

Packing took longer than it should have. Carina folded Maya’s clothes neatly, sneaking in an extra hoodie, the one her girlfriend had been stealing from her for most of the week. She knew Maya wouldn’t willingly take it, or ask for it. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give it to her. Maya hesitated, then pulled her GI Joe from under the pillow.

She turned it over in her hands once. Twice.

“Can I-” Her voice caught, she looked up at the ceiling before clearing her throat. “Can I leave him here?”

Carina looked up immediately. “Of course.”

“My dad might find it,” Maya said quietly. “And he’d…” She shrugged. They both knew.

Carina reached out, gently taking the doll. “He’ll stay with me,” she promised. “Safe.”

Maya exhaled, relief soft and aching.

And a piece of Carina broke with that. It was supposed to be a good, happy gift. But even those can’t stay happy when they get close to him.

Maya did decide to take her half of the marshmallow with her, risk and all. She hoped she could hide it well enough, and at the same time, she didn’t want to leave both of her favourite gifts here. 

She wanted to have that piece that would match with Carina with her at home for the hard days.

When it’s almost time, Carina pulled Maya close, arms tight around her.

She kissed her, properly, slow, lingering, unafraid, almost as if they were storing it away.

“For later.” She whispered.

Maya nodded, holding on just as tightly.

Lucia stood by the door, patiently waiting, and Maya stepped into her arms without thinking. The hug was warm, solid, unconditional. Similar and yet so different to the hugs she used to get from her mom. 

The realization hit her after, how safe she felt here, how normal it almost was to be cared for.

“Grazie,” Maya said softly.

Lucia squeezed her once more. “Sempre.”

The car pulled up outside. Lane stepped out, expression annoyed but controlled, eyes already scanning.

Carina laced her fingers through Maya’s one last time, squeezing gently. “Next year,” she said quietly, “you stay the whole holiday.”

Maya looked at her. Really looked at her.

“I hope I can,” she said.

And for once, hope doesn’t feel like a weakness.