All Chapters of Her Christmas Wish: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Laila leaned back in her chair, watching another group of friends climb onto the stage and launch into an enthusiastic, slightly off‑key rendition of Holly Jolly Christmas. Their laughter rang out over the music, voices overlapping and clashing, and she found herself laughing too, clapping along with the crowd. Warmth spread through her chest—not from the alcohol, but from the feeling of belonging. For the first time that night, she felt light. Almost carefree."Looks like we started a trend tonight," she said, smiling widely as she watched the group bow dramatically to cheers and whistles."We always were trendsetters," Kyle replied, striking an exaggerated pose that made her laugh harder. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her close, his voice softening. "I'm really glad you're here, Lai. I wish you'd move back permanently… but I get it. You've got a life in Charleston now.""I do," she said softly, her smile gentling. "It's home now." She paused, emotion flickering

“How could she do this?” Jordan snarled, pacing the length of the hotel room like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, restless, as if the carpet itself had offended him. “How could she stand there—out there—in front of everyone and say those things about me?”“Jordan, you need to calm down,” Jake said, leaning against the dresser, arms crossed but eyes sharp with concern. “You’re turning red, man. This isn’t helping.”“She called me a racist,” Jordan shot back, dragging a hand through his hair hard enough to make it stand on end. “She said she thought I was just like our grandfather. She wouldn’t even talk to me. She wouldn’t listen.”Jake dragged his hands down his face slowly, like he was trying to keep himself from snapping. “Can you really blame her?”Jordan stopped short, spinning on him. “Can I blame her? Whose side are you on?”“I’m on her side, Sam,” Jake said without hesitation, his voice steady but unyielding. “She’s the one you left. You had a choice, and you chose wr

“You keep stirring, lil one. I’ll be right back,” Amelia called over her shoulder, wiping her hands on her apron as she headed toward the front door when the doorbell rang.“Yes, Mommom,” Malaya replied dutifully, tongue peeking out in concentration as she continued stirring the cookie batter with far more seriousness than the task required. The bowl was nearly as big as she was, but she handled it with practiced care, like this was one of her most important responsibilities. Baking had always felt important to her—something she and her mom did together, something that made the house feel full and warm.With everyone else out of the house, it was just the two of them—flour dusting the counters, holiday music humming softly from the radio, and the familiar comfort of baking filling the air. The kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar, warm and safe, the kind of scent that lingered in your clothes long after the cookies were gone. Amelia hadn’t realized how much she needed the quiet unti

Jordan glanced at his reflection in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time, smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt before looking back at his mom. His jaw was tight, nerves etched into every line of his face, shoulders rigid as if he were bracing for a hit he couldn’t see coming. He barely recognized himself—this wasn’t the confident quarterback everyone saw on television, the one who smiled easily for cameras and spoke in clean, rehearsed sound bites. This was a man standing on the edge of something irreversible, about to face the consequences of the worst decision he’d ever made.The hotel room felt too quiet, too still, as if it were holding its breath right along with him. Outside, the muffled sounds of traffic drifted through the window, a distant hum of life continuing on without regard for the moment that felt monumental inside these four walls. Jordan wondered briefly how many times he’d stood on a football field with tens of thousands of people watching and

Opening the door, Laila stepped aside immediately, giving him room to enter without ever lifting her eyes to his face. She wasn't ready for that yet—wasn't sure she ever would be. The sight of him standing in her doorway knocked the air from her lungs, even though she had known this moment was coming. She had prepared herself for anger, for resentment, for confrontation. She had rehearsed sharp words and firm boundaries in her head. What she hadn't prepared for was the way her chest tightened simply at the sight of him, the way her body reacted before her mind could catch up.Once the door closed behind him, the sound felt final—heavier than it should have—like a punctuation mark she hadn't agreed to place on her life. The quiet that followed pressed in on her from all sides, thick and suffocating. For a brief, reckless moment, she wondered if this was what it would have felt like if he had come home all those years ago. The thought made her stomach twist.She leaned back against the