Chapter 7 CHRISTMAS MORNING BREAKFAST
Amara’s POV
I pulled my hand away fast.
The light from the bracelet faded, but my skin still burned with warmth. My heart raced as I stared at Noelle.
"You felt that," I said.
He nodded once. His face was serious now. Careful. Like he was standing near something dangerous.
"Yes," he said. "But we will talk about that later."
"LATER?" I snapped. "Something just happened. Something not normal."
"I know," he said gently. "But you are shaking. You need food."
"I am not hungry."
"You are starving."
I opened my mouth to argue, but my stomach betrayed me. It growled loudly. Heat rushed to my face.
Noelle almost smiled.
"Please," he said. "Let me make you breakfast. Then we talk."
I hesitated. Every warning voice in my head screamed at me to say no. But my legs felt weak. My head felt light.
"Fine," I muttered. "But do not touch anything strange."
"I promise," he said.
He moved into my kitchen like he had been there before. Like the space knew him. He rolled up his sleeves and reached for the pan. He found the coffee without asking. He worked calmly, quietly.
Too calmly.
I watched him from the table, arms crossed. "You act like this is normal."
"Cooking is normal," he replied.
"You being here is not."
He glanced at me. "I know."
The smell of food filled the room. My stomach tightened painfully. Eggs cooked perfectly. Toast browned just right. Coffee steamed gently.
I could not remember the last time I had eaten like this. Not rushed. Not cold. Not cheap.
He placed the plate in front of me. "Eat."
I stared at it. My hands trembled as I picked up the fork. The first bite nearly broke me. Warm. Real. Comforting.
I swallowed hard.
Noelle sat across from me but did not eat yet. He watched me quietly.
"How long has it been?" he asked.
"Since what?"
"Since you ate a proper meal."
I shrugged. "I do not know."
He frowned slightly. "That is not good."
"Nothing about my life is good," I said.
He finally picked up his coffee. "Tell me about it."
I froze. "Why?"
"Because if you are going to work for me, I want to know who you are."
"I am just someone who needed help."
"You are more than that."
I took another bite, chewing slowly. "There is nothing special about me."
"Everyone says that," he replied.
Silence fell between us. The warmth from the food spread through my chest. My body relaxed even though my mind stayed tense.
"Do you have family?" he asked softly.
"No."
"Friends?"
"Ivy," I said. "Just Ivy."
He nodded. "Anyone else?"
I shook my head.
"That is not living," he said quietly. "That is just existing."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
"I did not ask for your judgment," I snapped.
"I am not judging you."
"It sounds like you are."
"I am angry for you," he said. "Not at you."
I looked away. "You do not know what you are talking about."
"Then help me understand."
I laughed once, bitter. "Why? So you can feel sorry for me?"
"So I can know how to help."
I gripped my fork tightly. "People always leave."
"I am still here."
"You barely know me."
"Yet."
My chest felt tight. I finished the last bite of food slowly. The warmth from the bracelet pulsed gently, almost steadying me.
Noelle leaned back slightly. "Why do you hate Christmas?"
My hands froze.
The fork slipped from my fingers and hit the plate with a soft sound. My breath caught. My chest started to shake.
"I… I do not hate it," I whispered. "I just… cannot survive it."
His voice softened. "Why?"
My hands began to tremble badly now. I pressed them against the table, but it did not help.
"Because it took everything from me."
Noelle did not interrupt.
"My parents died on Christmas Eve," I said. My voice sounded far away. "Sixteen years ago."
He went very still.
"We were driving home," I continued. "It was snowing. A truck slid. Everything happened so fast."
My throat burned. "I was in the back seat. I could hear my mom breathing. Then not breathing."
I swallowed hard. "The ambulance came. They tried to save her."
My eyes blurred. "Outside the ambulance, people were singing carols. Smiling. Laughing."
My voice cracked. "I held my mom’s hand while she died. And all I could hear was Christmas songs."
Silence filled the room.
"I was a child," I whispered. "And Christmas never felt safe again."
Noelle’s face changed. All the warmth, the calm, the control cracked. Pain filled his eyes. Real pain.
"I am so sorry," he said.
Something in his voice made my chest ache.
"I did not tell anyone that," I said. "Not even Ivy."
He slowly reached across the table.
I flinched, but he stopped halfway. "May I?"
I nodded.
His fingers wrapped gently around my hand.
Warmth flowed through me instantly. Not sharp like before. Soft. Deep. Healing.
I gasped quietly.
The shaking in my hands slowed. My breathing steadied. My chest felt lighter, like something heavy had finally loosened.
"What are you doing?" I whispered.
"I do not know," he admitted. "But it feels like something broken is mending."
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
I did not pull away.
The bracelet glowed softly between us.
For the first time in years, Christmas did not hurt.
But then Noelle stiffened.
His head snapped toward the window.
"Someone is watching us," he said.
My heart jumped. "What?"
The warmth faded.
The bracelet dimmed.
Noelle stood slowly, eyes dark, alert.
"This should not be happening yet," he murmured.
"What should not be happening?"
He looked at me, fear flashing across his face again.
"You are waking up to something," he said.
A loud sound echoed outside.
Then another.
Footsteps.
Heavy ones.
The bracelet flared bright gold.
Noelle moved in front of me.
"Stay behind me," he said firmly.
My heart pounded.
"Who is out there?" I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
"Someone who should not know about you yet."