Chapter Text
"Merry Christmas Eve, Boss!"
Jahoda all but bounced in the doorway, a large paper bag hugged to her chest. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, though her eyes were wide and giddy, beaming with an unfiltered delight.
Nefer sighed. Of course Jahoda would show up. It was her own fault for informing Jahoda of her address. At least she had the foresight to lie and tell the girl that the Curatorium would be closed for Christmas - her servile employee would have insisted on working if Nefer had informed her that she intended keep the store open.
Jahoda shook the parcel in her hands ever so slightly. "I'm spending Christmas with Ineffa and Aino, so I thought I'd pop past and drop this off. I really want to see how you like it!"
Though Nefer had very adamantly told Jahoda not to waste her paycheck on a gift for her, it appeared that she had failed to listen to her. Though, Nefer had predicted that her employee would feel the need to take the request as a suggestion not worth noting. For this reason, Nefer had spent the past few weeks slipping extra coins into the tip jar so that the cost would even out.
“Come in,” Nefer said, stepping aside.
Jahoda practically jumped into the apartment, her eyes darting across the space. It was not a small place by any means, but it was humble in a way that allowed Nefer to not dwell on her loneliness. It was better to stay in an environment intended for solitude than to become engulfed in empty space. Her apartment's aesthetic mirrored that of her office in the curatorium: harmonious yet sparse, carved by the tastes she had cultivated in her homeland.
Jahoda, however, did not appear to be interested in the layout or decor. Still clutching the gift in her arms, her eyes continued to dart around as if she was searching for something. Nefer merely watched on, amused by the way Jahoda was interpreting the space.
"You, um…" Jahoda observed, her voice dipping with concern. "You don’t have a tree."
Ah. So that's what she's looking for.
"No," Nefer replied flatly. "I do not."
Jahoda visibly deflated, extended her arms to once again show Nefer the paper bag. "Where am I meant to put this, then?"
"I already told you that there was no need to get me a gift."
"Yeah, maybe, but there was a want. A want from me, I mean. I wanted to get you something for being the bestest boss ever!" Jahoda grinned, but stilled as Nefer showed no signs of response. "Nef, are you really not celebrating Christmas?"
"I am," replied Nefer. "I am simply just not as jolly as you. The holiday spirit begins to wane after three decades." She paused, knowing Jahoda would refuse to accept this answer. "I'll be heading to visit some friends from home some point next year. We will celebrate a delayed Christmas."
It was somewhat of a truth - she did have a trip planned to visit Candace and acquaint herself with Dehya and Dunyarzard. It was expected that gifts would be exchanged. At the very least, Nefer herself would be giving some things to Candace. Nefer further intended to peruse the halls of her old university, and, if she were to come across an old classmate who now worked in the library, she would be partial to gifting her some more incense from her collection.
It wasn't a trip for Christmas, though. It was one she had planned over a year ago - one that she had, regrettably, planned with Lauma. It was, in many ways, silly for them to have thought that they would have lasted long enough to plan an international trip two years out. But Lauma had been eager to visit the place where Nefer grew up, and Nefer knew she could not avoid the lands of her past any longer. However, given everyone's schedules, it was a near-impossible task to find a date any closer.
"Well," Jahoda spoke again, her eager demeanour returning, "you can always come round and celebrate with us! We’ve got a big tree, and lights, and Aino set up all these crazy mechanisms with them. And, I mean, you've tasted Ineffa's cooking, so Christmas lunch and dinner will be the bomb!"
Nefer inclined her head, amused despite herself. "That’s kind of you, but I must decline. Ashru and I will be having a darling time with his new gifts."
Reluctance showed on her face as Jahoda opted to not press further. "Well, at least you have something to open thanks to me. Oh - and more for Ashru, I got him some stuff too!"
Jahoda walked over to the lounge, setting the paper bag on the table. From it, she retrieved a large box, a small box, and a gift bag. She set the boxes aside, placing them on Nefer's TV cabinet.
"Ashru, are you here?" she called out, her voice tinged with excitement.
The cat, who had been lazing on Nefer's bed, pounced out at Jahoda's voice.
"So you respond in seconds to Jahoda," Nefer grunted, "but refuse to listen to me."
Neither Jahoda or Ashru paid her any mind.
"Okay, okay, so I know you can't unwrap presents, so I used a gift bag instead. Merry Christmas Eve, Ashru!"
Nefer could see Ashru's little paws flailing around in that gift bag as he dived into it, totally entranced by the idea of something new. Based on his excitemnt, Nefer wondered whether Jahoda had dared to put catnip in the bag.
"Agh, Ashru, let me take them out for you!" squealed Jahoda. The cat, typically inattentive, seemed to digest this request with ease. Ashru slipped out of the bag, sitting daintily next to it.
"Okay, so first," began Jahoda, "we have a new feather toy! I know it's a little generic, but every kitty loves these."
Ashru responded with a resounding purr.
"Then…" continued Jahoda, sticking her hand inside the bag. "Oh, you're going to love this one. Y'know how you always play with my braids? Well, I got a pretty realistic wig and braided it up, and I added some dangly hairclips on, too!"
The moment Jahoda took the item out, Ashru lept onto it. He began batting at one of the clips - which seemed to have been taken from Aino - meowing with pleasure as he did so.
Jahoda grinned to herself, pleased that she had been able to find a delightful gift. "Hey, mister," she called out to Ashru again. "There's still more - a squeaky toy, some new vegan cat treats that Ineffa insisted were "optimal," and a new collar. Not that you need one, y'know, just that you can change outfits if needed."
Nefer rolled her eyes at the statement. There was no way Ashru would be changing his collar on a whim. Still, the collar was decent-looking; Nefer would put it for Ashru, even if just to take some pictures to appease Jahoda. She hadn't expected her employee to splurge so much on the cat.
Jahoda - who had finally decided to divert her attention from Ashru - turned pointedly to Nefer. "You," she stated firmly, "are going to videocall me when you open these tomorrow so that I can see your reaction. I only brought them over today so that I could see how much you liked them in real time, but you absolutely need something to open on Christmas."
Nefer simply quirked a single eyebrow in response.
"I’m serious, Nefer!" Jahoda insisted. "If you don't, I'll show up here - and for good measure, I'll be carolling with Aino and Ineffa."
A gentle tugged pulled on the corner of Nefer's lips. Though she knew she ought to have been annoyed at her subordinate's requests, she could not help but find them endearing. Plus, it would be tricky to express displeasure when Jahoda had been nothing short of thoughtful.
"Fine," replied Nefer. "But you'd do well to remember that I am the one meant to issue orders, not you."
Jahoda squeaked. "Sorry Boss! The enthusiasm got to me."
After some time, the door finally closed behind Jahoda, her voice echoing one last “Merry Christmas Eve!” down the hallway. Nefer allowed herself a long, exhaling sigh. The apartment felt abruptly still, as if Jahoda dragged half the noise of the world in with her and carried it away again. Though she adored Jahoda, her energy was just slightly too much for Nefer at this hour - a glance at her watch told her it was almost 9pm.
Ashru was still engrossed with his new gifts. A trill of pure delight escaped him as he squeezed his new squeaky toy - a rubber item in the shape of amouse.
“At least someone appreciates the holiday spirit,” Nefer muttered, lowering herself onto the sofa.
She tried for a moment to simply sit and let her mind go quiet, but it only amplified what she was so desperately was trying to bury. After several minutes of staring at the ceiling, she gave in to the restless tug pulling her toward the bedroom.
The closet door slid open with ease. Nefer stretched upward, fingers brushing uselessly against the handles of the plastic storage bin located on the top shelf. After several failed attempts, Nefer gave up with a quiet huff and went to fetch a chair to use as a makeshift stepstool.
The box was bulky, not to mention heavy. Nefer eased the bin down inch by inch, breath held, arms trembling with the effort. Plastic scraped faintly against wood before the weight finally tipped into her hands. She staggered back a step, caught herself against the chair, and set the box on the floor with a dull thunk.
A thick layer of dust coated the box. Nefer cringed as she inhaled some of it, sneezing viciously a few seconds later.
Nefer wasn't really sure what had compelled her to retrieve these belongings. Perhaps it had been Jahoda, with her merry cheer and presents. Or, perhaps it had been one of her regular customers enquiring about what gifts Nefer wished to receive for Christmas. Or, perhaps it was simply Nefer's haunting memories, reminding her how different this season was meant to be.
Despite what Jahoda may believe, Nefer was not "anti-Christmas." Though she had grown up in a land where Christmas was not, at the time, widely celebrated, she had been willing to embrace the tradition once she immigrated. She wasn’t fond of all of it, especially the notionof Santa Claus. It seemed a little disturbing, honestly, the whole concept of a mysterious figure watching children and giving them gifts in exchange for good behavior. But there were things she did like - the fairy lights that seemed to soften everything around her, the warmth of community, and, of course, the extra money the season brought in.
The joy of the season, however, had been tempered by the events of the previous year. Nefer knew that what had happened was largely her fault. It gnawed at her. She had fallen in love, too deeply, maybe. At the time, she had convinced herself it was the real thing, believing that everything would work out in the end. But in the end, it hadn’t.
Nefer hadn’t seen the signs, or maybe she had and simply ignored them. Her and Lauma had been together for a long time, existing in a strange harmony where they were both together and apart. It had worked, or so Nefer had convinced herself. They lived in two places: Nefer close to her work, and Lauma rooted firmly in her hometown, a place she couldn’t leave behind, no matter how much she loved Nefer. At first, it had been good for them. They were able to maintain their singularity, keeping their own spaces and communities. But, as their relationship began to deepen, there was a growing need for integration - for their spaces and communities to become merged, rather than separate.
Still, they tried to not let it get them down. Beyond a few cordial discussions disguised as small talk, neither had spoken about the prospect of formally settling down. They had decorated both Lauma's house and Nefer's apartment for Christmas, bought gifts, baked biscuits, and shared small moments that felt irrevocably important.
But the argument that tore them apart had been, ironically, about that - Christmas. It had started small with the simple question of where to spend the day. Though both homes were decorated, they could not be in two places at once. Nefer wanted to stay in the city, near the Curatorium, thinking they could make it festive enough. Lauma, on the other hand, wanted to celebrate in her hometown with family and friends, What had seemed like a small difference in preference quickly spiralled into something much more.
They had begun to argue, the words at first sharp but still contained. Then came the accusations. Nefer called Lauma weak for clinging so tightly to the past, accusing her of being unwilling to move forward, to grow, to let go of a place that held her back. Lauma shot back, her voice cold with hurt, accusing Nefer of being selfish, firing back that Nefer should not judge those who wish to stay in the lands that raised them rather than cower away.
The conversation, which had started as something simple, had quickly descened into something destructive. They had started to air the things that had been quietly festering beneath the surface for months - how their differences, once minor, now felt insurmountable, how their lives were just different to be compatible.
Before either of them knew it, they were saying things they couldn’t take back. Lauma called Nefer cold, someone who would always choose ambition over love. Nefer retorted with something bitter. She had lashed out, sharper than she’d ever intended, but once the words were out, they took on a life of their own.
But she hadn't stopped there, when there was still time to sit down and reconcile. No, Nefer had kept going, digger deeper, retreating to underhanded verbal tactics as she yelled odious things at Lauma, the woman who she loved most dearly. She called Lauma weak, naïve, someone who would never understand the demands of her world. She insulted Lauma’s choices, her family, her personality.
Nefer had continued until Lauma had begun to cry. It was quiet at first, but soon the tears were flooding her face, and Nefer felt the sudden, overwhelming weight of what she’d done. She hadn’t meant to go that far, but Lauma’s words had stung like nothing else. And in that moment, when she felt the sting of vulnerability from someone she loved - someone who had never judged Nefer for being who she was - Nefer had acted out of a need to protect herself from the pain of feeling like she wasn’t enough.
Lauma had left the apartment that night without another word, her face still wet with tears, her shoulders hunched in the kind of defeat Nefer had never imagined she’d cause. Ass the door clicked shut behind her, Nefer felt a hollow ache settle in her chest - a feeling she had never known before.
Nefer shook herself free from the memory as she lifted the lid of the bin.
The very first ornament she saw nearly made her scoff: a bauble Lauma had painted in intricate swirls of gold and turquoise, the colors bleeding into each other as they created a gentle swirl. Under it lay the others - clay shapes they’d made together during a winter storm that had trapped them indoors for three days. A star with uneven points. A sun with too many rays. A moon without its roundness.
She pushed the ornaments aside, her gaze settling on a series of boxes. they were the gifts she had wrapped for Lauma last year, still untouched. She had never been able to bring herself to do anything with them. She could have returned them closer to the time, sold them online, or even donated them. Every option felt wrong - they belonged with Lauma, their intended recipient. It was a shame that Nefer had pushed her beyond reach.
Would I be insane, Nefer thought, if I were to send these to Lauma now?
Before she could overthink it, she reached for her phone.
Lauma’s socials loaded slowly, as if mocking her for checking something she shouldn’t. As usual, there was nothing of value. No location tags. No hints. Just the typical fabricated seasonal cheer: a looping GIF of a dancing snowman, a glittery filter slapped onto a picture of a fireplace, a mug of cocoa with the caption.
Nefer sighed. Lauma was only a few years her senior, but based off of her social media profiles, it would be impossible to decipher her from someone in their 50s. Between the good morning greetings that she sent everyone and the feed posts that really could have sufficed as temporary ones, Lauma truly had no idea how to use her social media.
Nefer closed Lauma’s social page, but the screen’s glow lingered behind her eyes like an accusation.
She shouldn’t even be thinking about this. She knew she shouldn’t. And yet…
Nefer's gaze drifted from her phone to the wrapped gifts. She carried the boxes to her bed and sat on its edge. The mattress dipped under her, familiar, lived-in, and very empty.
Would she hate me even more if I tried to visit her?
Her phone suddenly buzzed with a notification that made her jump. It was nothing important - just an automated holiday greeting from her bank, reminding her to spend it with those she valued most.
The timing was almost comedic.