Lahat ng Kabanata ng Her Christmas Wish: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 8

Flashback A Little Less Than Nine Years AgoLaila had stopped by Jordan's place after her appointment, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves the entire ride over. Her mother had gone with her to the doctor since Jordan couldn't make it—football practice ran late, and the coach was strict—but he had promised to call. She wanted to tell him in person instead. The moment her mom dropped her off, Laila walked up onto the porch and took a seat on the old wooden step once she realized no one was home, drawing in a slow breath. She traced the grain of the wood with her fingers, imagining his reaction, imagining their future. Would he be scared? Happy? Both?After nearly ten minutes, she saw him walking up the street, sweaty from practice but smiling the moment he spotted her."Lai, what are you doing here?" he asked, surprise tugging up the corners of his mouth.She sprang up. "I told you I'd stop by after the doctor, a

Jordan Hall stood beneath the blinding studio lights, looking every bit the polished NFL superstar they wanted him to be. If perfection had a physical form, his publicists liked to say, Jordan was dangerously close to it. He looked like an Adonis—handsome in that soft, all‑American, golden-boy way that made endorsement companies drool over him. His usually dark blond hair had been dyed a warm chestnut for the holiday campaign, and the rich color made his hazel eyes appear warmer, deeper, almost honey-like when the light hit them just right. Clean‑shaven for the first time in months, his jawline looked sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room, giving him a younger, more boyish charm despite the exhaustion hiding behind his expression.Even at rest, with his shoulders slightly slouched in boredom, Jordan's athletic build, broad chest, and sculpted features looked effortlessly camera-ready. On the outside, he was a marketing team's dream—a man who sold fantasy with a single sm

Jordan felt like he blinked, and suddenly he was back in Lima, pulling into the hotel parking lot as though his entire drive had been swallowed by a fog of grief and determination. The town looked exactly the same—quiet streets, Christmas lights on every porch, the faint smell of chimney smoke drifting in the cold air—but he felt different. Heavy. Weighted down by everything he had learned, everything he had lost, and everything he was now terrified to hope for.He refused to stay at his grandparents’ house with the rest of the family. The thought alone made his throat tighten. Being in that space felt like suffocating under years of secrets and manipulation. Every room in that house reminded him of something stolen—stolen time, stolen letters, stolen chances. Staying there felt like honoring a legacy built on lies, and Jordan couldn’t stomach it. Not anymore.Inside the hotel room, he dropped his keys on the nightstand and sat heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands trembled slight

Laila tossed yet another dress onto her bed, groaning as the hanger clattered across the hardwood floor with a metallic echo that somehow matched the growing storm inside her chest. It had been ages since she’d prepared for a real night out—not a late-night grocery dash for snacks, not an emergency drugstore run, not a quick Target mission where she pretended browsing the home décor aisle qualified as self‑care. A real night. A night where she could exist as more than a mother, more than a student, more than a woman trying to keep every spinning plate from crashing down.And the evidence of this rarity surrounded her in spectacular chaos. Her bedroom looked like a boutique had exploded—silky fabrics thrown across lampshades, sequins winking smugly at her from corners she didn’t remember touching, shoes scattered everywhere like weary little soldiers who had fought valiantly and surrendered. A few necklaces twisted themselves into glittering knots; bracelets rolled under the dresser li