The Christmas I Was Told I Didn’t Belong

my face. The same table I helped him choose years earlier, when Isabella decided their old furniture looked “unsophisticated.”

“Isabella’s parents are coming,” he muttered. “And they’d… prefer if you weren’t here.”

My fingers went numb.

“They’d prefer,” I repeated.

“It’s just easier,” he said quickly. “They’re very particular about traditions.”

His voice continue reading …