5: The Eve Before

The night before Christmas Eve felt impossibly bright, even through the grey city streets. I couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time all week, my chest felt light instead of heavy.

Ever since last night’s talk with Kade—though I had thought he’d been mean at first—we’d been texting and calling back and forth nonstop. Each message, each laugh shared through the screen, seemed to erase the sting of the past week. I could almost forget the way he had made me feel small and guilty. Almost.

And somehow, he had become the Kade I knew again—the one who made me laugh until my cheeks hurt, the one who reminded me of all the little reasons I loved him, even when he drove me crazy. That Kade was back.

I kept rereading his messages, the ones where he teased me, shared silly little thoughts, and promised that Christmas Eve would be special. My heart did a little flip each time I saw his name pop up on my phone.

I had no reason to doubt it—tonight, everything felt right. The texts, the calls, the way he sounded when he laughed… I could almost believe that nothing had ever gone wrong.

Almost.

⸻

I was halfway through making a small list of things to wear for Christmas Eve when my phone buzzed again. My heart skipped a beat—not for Kade this time, but for Aurora.

Aurora: Selene! I’ll be back Christmas morning! Are you free? We have to do dinner—me, you, your mom, and yes, presents included. I’ve missed you!

A smile spread across my face so wide it hurt a little. My fingers flew over the keyboard.

Me: Yes! I’m free. I can’t wait! It’s been too long.

Aurora: Perfect. Can’t wait to see you. It’ll be like old times.

I couldn’t help laughing quietly. Old times. Just thinking about it made my chest feel lighter, as if the week’s heaviness had been slowly lifting without me noticing. Things were… really starting to get better.

My mom would be thrilled too. She’d been buried in work lately, but I could imagine her eyes lighting up at seeing Aurora again. The thought of all of us together—chatting, laughing, exchanging little gifts—made the tension in my shoulders loosen.

But the more I think about it the more I couldn’t help it. I leapt up from my chair, bouncing up and down like a little kid, unable to contain the excitement. “Yes! Yes! She’s coming back!” I shouted to no one in particular, then ran out of my room, practically skidding into the kitchen.

My mom looked up from her laptop, startled by the commotion.

“Selene! What on earth is all the ruckus about?”

I grinned, catching my breath.

“Aurora’s coming back on Christmas morning! Can we have dinner together—me, you, her—and maybe exchange presents?”

She blinked at me for a moment, then laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Of course we can. Of course I’ll make time for my daughter’s best friend. Don’t worry—you’ve been lonely enough this week.”

Relief and excitement surged through me. My chest felt lighter, the tension that had been coiled inside me for days loosening just a little.

“Thank you, Mom! Thank you!” I said, practically hugging her laptop.

She rolled her eyes, smiling indulgently. “Don’t thank me yet, Selene. Let’s see if we survive your jumping and squealing until then.”

I laughed, practically skipping back to my room, the happiness bubbling over inside me. Old times. Present times. The week’s heaviness finally starting to lift.

⸻

Even so, I couldn’t shake the lingering anxiety that Kade could undo it all. I told myself not to think that way, to let myself feel excited for tomorrow, but old doubts clung like cobwebs. The best thing I could do tonight was ground myself somewhere safe, somewhere that didn’t carry the weight of manipulation or expectations.

That somewhere was The Half Moon Night Café.

The bell above the door jingled softly as I stepped inside. Warm light wrapped around me like a blanket. The familiar scent of caramel, cinnamon, and roasted coffee beans drifted into my senses. Low golden lights illuminated dark wood tables and shelves stacked with books, plants, and mismatched mugs. Fairy lights traced the exposed beams, and in the back corner, the small hearth flickered, sending slow-moving shadows across the walls.

It was comforting. Safe. Mine, at least for a little while.

“Hey,” a calm voice said behind the counter. “You look better today. Something good happened?”

I looked up. Asher Night, the barista, met my gaze with his usual quiet awareness. Dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, but his presence was steady and grounding. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t press. He just noticed, just existed in the space with me.

“Yeah,” I admitted softly. “You could say that.”

“Caramel latte?” he asked.

I blinked. “Yes.”

“I thought so,” he said, already preparing it with smooth, precise movements.

I settled at the counter, letting the warmth of the cup seep into my hands. The rich sweetness cut through the lingering tension from the day, if only for a moment.

“This place… it’s grounding,” I murmured. “It’s nice to just… sit and think.”

Asher glanced at the hearth, then back at me. “That’s the idea,” he said. “Nights can be heavy. People come here to put some of that weight down.”

I nodded, letting the words wrap around me like a soft blanket. Aurora was returning. My mom would be there. Kade would be tomorrow. And yet, for tonight, I could just exist here. Alone, but not lonely.

We talked quietly, not about anything important, just casual things—work, the falling snow outside, the slow rhythm of the café. He didn’t pry. He didn’t comment on my excitement or the fluttering anticipation in my chest. He simply let me be, and that was enough.

“You look like someone who’s being pushed too hard,” he said quietly.

“It’s been a bit of a roller coster ride for the past week,” I whispered, chuckling.

“Sometimes,” he added gently, “people confuse love with control.”

I swallowed, letting the words settle. It wasn’t a lecture. Not a warning. Just a reminder, quiet as the firelight dancing on the walls.

⸻

I left the café eventually, the snow falling softly around me. My scarf was snug, my hands still warm from the caramel latte. My heart fluttered at the thought of tomorrow. I’d see Kade. I’d go to our Christmas Eve dinner. Aurora would be back in the morning, and we could have a quiet, joyful evening with my mom, presents and laughter included.

The tension in my shoulders eased. Not hope, not joy—not yet—but something like calm. A small thread of happiness running through me, fragile but real.

For the first time in a long while, I felt ready to let myself enjoy the moment.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges. Tomorrow might bring its own storms. But tonight, tonight was mine.