Winter arrived well before the semester ended, and Keeley's motivation plummeted with it. However, she managed to scrape through finals. Fully prepared for hibernation, she planned to remain home for the two weeks until classes resumed.

Her college friends had all gone home—even Valentina, who visited relatives in New Jersey because flying home for such a short time was too expensive—but thankfully, Jeffrey and Lydia were returning for the holidays. They were her only incentive to leave the house and face the cold.

She groaned, peeling herself off the couch. "I'm going out, Dad!"

"Alright, be safe," he called from his room as she donned her hat and gloves.

The subway was packed, a crush of last-minute Christmas shoppers. Feeling like a sardine, Keeley clung to the overhead handles, squeezed between strangers.

Exiting the train was a relief, but the crowds remained intense—to be expected, given her destination: Rockefeller Center, two days before Christmas.

Jeffrey had arrived a few days earlier, but Lydia arrived the previous night. They waited to ice skate, see the giant tree, and admire the elaborate holiday window displays until they were all together. These displays changed annually, making them a must-see during the Christmas season in New York.

She found them near the skate rental. Rushing to Lydia, she hugged her tightly. "Oh, it's so good to see you! You look tanner; California's treating you well."

Her friend laughed, returning the hug. "Yeah, it's about twenty degrees warmer there, and I spent a lot of time studying outdoors."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Jeffrey joked.

Keeley rolled her eyes before hugging him. "I missed you too, Jeff."

"Yeah, yeah," he said dramatically, then more seriously, "Are you guys ready to fall flat on our butts? Because I am."

"Speak for yourself; I'm an excellent ice skater," Lydia boasted.

They bickered as usual, but Lydia had the last laugh. She skated circles around a perpetually falling Jeffrey. Keeley was wobbly but held her own until Jeffrey, seeking support, took her down with him.

"Seriously?" she complained, sprawled on the ice atop him.

Lydia found it hilarious, snapping a picture. "Aww, look at you two getting cozy."

"Shut up, Lydia!" they yelled in unison.

Keeley rolled off, glaring. "If you ever drag me down again…"

He raised his hands innocently. "I'm sorry! It was instinct! How about I skate further away this time?"

"You do that."

Eventually, Keeley gained confidence, and Lydia insisted they hold hands to maintain pace. They left Jeffrey in the dust, circling the rink twice in the time it took him to move three feet.

Tired of skating, they went to the tree. This year, it stood 88 feet tall, brilliantly lit in gold. They stared up in awe; the twinkling lights held a special magic.

The star was taller than a person and barely visible from the ground. It was amazing; the tree was visible for blocks in every direction.

Jeffrey bought them cheap hot chocolate from a street vendor, warming them as they admired the window displays. Each store showcased a different aspect of winter or Christmas, featuring gold baubles and glittering fake snow, yet each was unique.

Every store tried to outdo the next, making it impossible for Keeley to choose a favorite. The lights and colors were dazzling.

Exhausted but full of Christmas cheer, she crawled under her couch blanket upon returning home, searching for a movie. The first channel displayed a cheesy holiday romance about a CEO falling for a small-town baker after a snowstorm.

What a joke. They'd show the wedding, but not the baker's struggle to adjust to her rich husband's lifestyle, or his refusal to change for her.

Bitterness filled her as she turned off the TV. She'd once been optimistic and naive, believing her love for Aaron would conquer all. It was a pathetic fantasy.

Aaron had participated in some of Keeley's "regular person" experiences while dating—novelties then. Once his interest waned, he disregarded her desires. He might have pretended initially, but after their engagement, it stopped completely.

Keeley was expected to act, speak, and dress a certain way. She couldn't eat at her favorite restaurants, visit her usual haunts, or even celebrate holidays as she wished.

The happy, family-filled Christmases of her childhood were distant memories by the time she married Aaron. Even holidays were business affairs in the Hale family.

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