The next morning, Layla strolled through the bustling town market alongside Annie, the cool autumn breeze tousling her hair. The streets were alive with holiday shoppers, their cheerful chatter blending with the sounds of street musicians playing festive tunes. Layla tugged at the hem of her cream sweater, already feeling self-conscious. She wasn't used to this—blending in, looking "normal."
"Stop fidgeting," Annie scolded, handing Layla a woven basket. "You look adorable. Own it."
"Adorable isn't really my vibe," Layla muttered, her eyes darting to a stall selling handmade scarves. She reached out to touch a soft knit one, more to occupy her hands than anything else.
"It is today," Annie teased with a grin.
They moved from stall to stall, Layla slowly relaxing as she took in the sights and smells of the market. She allowed herself a rare moment of indulgence, appreciating the warm, homey atmosphere. Then, as they approached a booth laden with pastries, she froze.
Standing just a few feet away, examining a tray of cinnamon rolls, was Aaron. He looked effortlessly casual in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly disheveled like he'd just rolled out of bed.
"Oh, this should be fun," Annie said under her breath, clearly amused by Layla's reaction.
"Why is he here?" Layla hissed, glancing around as if looking for an escape route.
"It's a public market, Layla, not some secret rebel hideout," Annie replied with a laugh.
Before Layla could slip away, Aaron looked up and spotted her. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then a slow grin spread across his face.
"Layla?" he called out, making his way toward her. "Is that really you? Or did someone kidnap the real you and replace you with…" His gaze swept over her outfit. "This?"
Layla rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. "Ha-ha. Very funny."
"You look…different," he continued, his grin widening. "Good different."
"Thanks, I guess."
Aaron tilted his head, still studying her. "I thought you said you were going home for Thanksgiving."
Layla stiffened, gripping the basket tighter. "I didn't lie. I'm spending it with Annie."
Aaron's brow furrowed. "That's not home."
Layla shrugged, her voice growing colder. "It is for me this year."
"Why didn't you go back to your family?" Aaron pressed, his tone more curious than accusatory.
"None of your business," Layla snapped, her words sharper than she intended.
Aaron raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I was just asking. If you didn't want to go, you could've just said so. No need to make up an excuse to get out of—"
"I didn't make anything up!" Layla interrupted, her voice rising. "I spend Thanksgiving with Annie. End of story."
Aaron frowned, clearly taken aback by her defensiveness. "Layla, come on. Why won't you just—"
"Drop it," she snapped, cutting him off. Her chest felt tight, the walls she'd so carefully built threatening to crumble under his probing questions. Without another word, she turned and stormed off.
Annie, who had been pretending to browse nearby, hurried after her. "Layla, wait!"
Aaron stood frozen, guilt flickering across his face. Before he could retreat, Annie intercepted him, her expression somewhere between exasperation and disappointment.
"You really don't know when to stop, do you?" she said, crossing her arms.
"What did I do?" Aaron asked, genuinely puzzled.
"You pushed about her family," Annie said flatly.
"I didn't mean to upset her," Aaron said, sounding defensive. "I just thought… I don't know, I thought we were past this whole closed-off thing."
Annie sighed, shaking her head. "Aaron, here's the thing: we don't talk about Layla's family. Ever. She'll tell you if and when she's ready. Until then, you leave it alone."
Aaron's shoulders sagged. "I didn't know."
"Well, now you do," Annie said, her voice softer but still firm. "Fix it. Or don't. That's up to you."
She turned on her heel and left him standing there, feeling a little more than lost.
Later that evening, Layla was curled up on Annie's couch, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. The tension from earlier still clung to her like a stubborn fog. She tried to shake it off, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron and his frustratingly persistent questions.
Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. It was a text from Aaron.
Aaron: Hey. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you earlier.
Layla stared at the message for a moment, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, she typed back.
Layla: It's fine. You didn't know.
The reply came almost immediately.
Aaron: I really didn't mean to upset you.
Layla: I know. It's just… my family is a mess, okay? I'm not ready to talk about it.
There was a pause, and then another message appeared.
Aaron: I understand. I won't bring it up again.
Layla felt a small wave of relief. But before she could put her phone down, another message popped up.
Aaron: For what it's worth, you looked good today. The sweater thing suits you.
Layla couldn't help but smile, the tension in her chest easing just a little.
Layla: Don't get used to it.
Aaron: Wouldn't dream of it.
She set her phone down, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. She wasn't used to people apologizing—or respecting her boundaries. It was unsettling but also… nice.
Annie plopped down beside her, handing over a mug of hot cocoa. "He texted, didn't he?"
Layla smirked. "Yeah."
"And?" Annie prompted, raising an eyebrow.
"And he apologized," Layla said, taking a sip of the cocoa.
"Good," Annie said with a nod. "He should."
Layla leaned back, letting the warmth of the cocoa and Annie's presence wash over her. Maybe Thanksgiving wasn't turning out to be so bad after all.