THE SHIRTLESS CHEF IS MY FAKE BOYFRIEND

Christmas was supposed to be perfect. I had spent weeks making sure of it.

The living room looked like something out of a Christmas movie, from the enormous tree glowing with golden lights to the carefully arranged ornaments that Mom insisted had to go in exactly the right places. Everything felt warm and beautiful, almost too perfect. Standing beside the tree, I held the small black watch box I had bought for Ian and smiled to myself.

I had spent a ridiculous amount of time choosing that watch. It wasn't cheap, but Ian deserved something special.

At least, that's what I believed then.

I turned the box over in my hands, imagining his reaction when he opened it.

“This Christmas will be perfect,” I whispered.

For the first time in a long time, I actually believed it.

“Still trying to be perfect, sis?”

I looked up and found Ruby standing a few feet away.

My younger sister was wrapped in a soft beige robe, her delicate features making her look as fragile as ever. She had always known how to make people worry about her. Even when she was perfectly fine, there was something about the way she carried herself that made everyone instinctively want to take care of her.

Her gaze dropped to the watch box in my hands.

I smiled and reached for the gift I had bought for her.

“It’s an early Christmas gift.”

Ruby accepted the package and opened it. When she pulled out the scarf, she ran her fingers over the fabric before looking at me.

“You always get the best stuff, huh?”

Something about the way she said it made me pause, but I quickly brushed the feeling aside.

“Do you like it?”

Her expression softened into a smile.

“Of course.”

I smiled back.

That was how things had always been between us. I gave, and Ruby took. Somehow, I was always the one making sure everyone was happy, even when it meant putting my own feelings aside.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the kitchen helping Mom prepare Christmas dinner. The smell of roasted garlic and herbs filled the room while Christmas music played softly in the background. Mom moved from one counter to another, checking everything twice, and I helped wherever I could.

She glanced at me as she worked.

“Your sister's been feeling better this week.”

“I know, Mom. I got her a scarf.”

Mom smiled.

“You're always so good to her.”

I lowered my eyes, unsure of what to say.

I'd heard those words my entire life.

Clara is responsible.

Clara understands.

Clara can handle it.

Clara is the bigger person.

Sometimes I wondered if being the older daughter meant I was never allowed to be anything else.

Mom suddenly looked toward the hallway, as if she'd just remembered something.

“Oh... Ian is in your dad's study. Go!”

My heart lifted instantly.

“Ian?”

“Yes. Go see him.”

I didn't need another invitation. I wiped my hands and left the kitchen, the watch box still safely in my hand.

Ian was here.

Just thinking about seeing him made me smile. I wanted to watch his face when he opened his gift. I wanted to see that familiar smile, hear his voice, and spend the evening believing that everything between us was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

I wanted this Christmas to be one I'd remember forever.

I walked down the hallway toward Dad's study, holding the box a little tighter. The house seemed quieter away from the living room, and the glow from the Christmas lights followed me across the walls.

I took a slow breath.

Maybe this really would be the perfect Christmas.

Maybe this year, everything would finally go right.

When I reached the study door, my smile returned.

“Ian? I have your gift...”

I pushed the door open.

And everything changed.

Ian was there.

But he wasn't alone.

Ruby was with him, and they were kissing beside the fireplace.

For a second, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.

Then the watch box slipped from my fingers.

It hit the floor with a heavy thud.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't breathe.

Ian pulled away from Ruby, but neither of them spoke.

Ruby's lipstick was smeared, and when her eyes met mine, the color drained from her face.

She stared at me.

“Oh...” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Clara.”