Side Story (2) - Chapter 6
The air inside Sable's home was cool, a quiet contrast to the warm, bustling holiday spirit outside. While other houses on the block glittered with lights and decorations, theirs was more understated—just a small wreath on the door and a string of lights that flickered softly against the living room window. It was enough to keep up appearances, but Sable knew that Christmas had never quite felt the same since her mom had passed.
She moved quietly through the house, adjusting a few ornaments on the sparse tree her dad had put up earlier that week. It was simple, just like everything else in their lives, but Sable didn't mind. What she did mind was the tension she could feel simmering beneath the surface—the unspoken worries that seemed to hang in the air like a winter chill.
Her dad had been working late again, pushing through long hours at the office, coming home with dark circles under his eyes. Sable had tried to talk him into taking a break, but he'd just waved her off with a tired smile, insisting that he was fine. "It's just a busy season," he'd said, like he always did, but she could see the exhaustion creeping into his every movement.
It didn't help that her dad's sister—her aunt—had invited them over for Christmas dinner. Sable could already hear the thinly veiled comments that would come from her aunt, the comparisons that always left her dad feeling smaller than he deserved. Why don't you take some time off? her aunt would say, or worse, You should really think about dating again, it's not good for Sable to see you like this.
It wasn't that her aunt meant harm, Sable thought—at least, not intentionally. But the way she spoke, always looking down at her dad as if he was somehow failing, as if the life he'd built for himself and Sable wasn't enough, made her blood boil. She hated seeing the way those comments chipped away at him, even though he tried to hide it.
Her dad would smile through it all, insisting that he was content with his life. He never said it outright, but Sable knew what he meant—I don't need anyone else, as long as I have you. It was supposed to be comforting, but all Sable could hear in those words was the weight of everything he'd sacrificed for her. The nights he spent working late so she could focus on school, the holidays where he tried to fill the space her mom had left behind, even when she knew it must have hurt.
She couldn't help but think that if their mom were still around, things would be different—easier. Her dad wouldn't have to work himself into the ground, wouldn't have to put on a brave face for the world. He wouldn't have to carry all that weight alone. And even though he'd never once blamed her for any of it, the guilt still gnawed at her.
That was why she'd gone out to the park that day, sitting on the bench with her thoughts swirling like the snow around her. She'd needed to clear her head, to find some way to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions she carried with her. She'd watched the snowflakes fall, trying to find answers in their quiet, unhurried descent.
She wished there was a way to repay him for everything he'd done for her—to give him something back, even if it was just a small piece of the life he'd given up. But no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't figure out how. It wasn't like she could bring her mom back, or fix the strain that lingered in their family. And the helplessness of that realization left her feeling colder than any winter night.
Sable leaned against the doorframe, watching her dad as he sat in his armchair, a stack of paperwork spread out on the coffee table beside him. He caught her eye and offered a small smile, but she could see the weariness behind it, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly.
"Don't stay up too late, Dad," she said softly, stepping into the room. "You've been working a lot lately."
He waved a hand, brushing off her concern with that same, gentle smile. "Just a little bit more, sweetheart. Don't worry about me."
Sable bit her lip, nodding even though the words didn't make her feel any better. She slipped back upstairs, the weight of unspoken worries following her all the way. As she reached her room, she caught sight of the Christmas lights outside her window, their glow casting long shadows across the walls.
And just like that day in the park, she found herself wishing for something she couldn't quite name—something that would make all of this easier, even if just for a little while. But she knew better than to hope for miracles.
So, instead, she sat on the edge of her bed, closing her eyes and letting the quiet of the house settle over her. And as the night stretched on, she wondered if she'd ever find a way to repay the man who had given up so much, just to keep their world from falling apart.