Heartbroken (A Christmas Story) 5

Five days to Christmas.

I woke up feeling like someone had poured concrete into my chest overnight.

My eyes were puffy, my throat sore from crying into my pillow until the early hours. The house was empty and quiet, Mom at work, siblings out for fun. Perfect. I didn’t have to fake a smile for anyone.

My phone was a war zone, forty-two missed calls, mostly Mike, a handful from Sophie, three from Ethan. I didn’t open a single one.

I deleted Mike’s entire thread without reading it, blocked Sophie on everything, and left Ethan’s texts for when I felt stronger. Right now, I just felt hollow.

I stayed on the couch all morning in the same hoodie I’d slept in, staring at the TV without turning it on.

Every corner of the house reminded me of Mike, his laugh echoing from movie nights, the spot on the carpet where he’d spilled popcorn and kissed me to shut me up.

I needed to escape my own head.

By late afternoon, I forced myself into the shower.