The next morning, Layla woke to the faint sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. She groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. Aaron stirred beside her, his arm still draped over her waist. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the rare feeling of warmth and quiet.
The buzzing continued, persistent and annoying. Layla sighed, carefully untangling herself from Aaron's hold. She grabbed her phone and squinted at the screen.
Annie: Outside. Open up, lazybones.
Layla rolled her eyes, tossing the phone onto the bed. "Annie's here," she muttered, mostly to herself.
Aaron grumbled something incoherent, pulling the blanket over his head. She smirked, shaking her head as she pulled on a hoodie and padded toward the door.
When she opened it, Annie was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in her usual bright, preppy style. Her floral skirt and matching sweater were a stark contrast to Layla's messy bedhead and oversized hoodie.
"Took you long enough," Annie teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "And good morning to you, too, sunshine."
"Morning," Layla mumbled, running a hand through her hair.
Annie's eyes lit up when she spotted Aaron's sneakers near the couch. She wiggled her eyebrows. "Had a good night?"
"Don't start," Layla said, her voice sharp but not unkind.
Before Annie could respond, Layla noticed something on the doorstep. Two parcels sat side by side, one wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with twine, the other in a glossy white box with a bright red bow.
"Hang on," Layla said, stepping outside to retrieve them.
Annie peeked over her shoulder. "Ooh, secret admirer, maybe?"
Layla rolled her eyes, carrying the boxes to the kitchen table. Aaron shuffled into the room a moment later, looking half-asleep but still managing to give Annie a halfhearted wave.
"Morning, superstar," Annie said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Aaron grunted in response, reaching for a mug to pour himself some coffee.
Layla ignored them both, her attention focused on the parcels. She started with the brown one, carefully untying the twine. Inside was a leather-bound scrapbook, its cover embossed with the word Memories. On top of the scrapbook was a folded letter.
She hesitated, her chest tightening as she recognized the handwriting. It was her dad's.
"Lay?" Annie's voice was soft now, the teasing tone gone.
Layla didn't answer. She unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the familiar, messy script.
Dear Lay,
I know this isn't what you asked for. You wanted our family back, and I wish I could give you that. I really do. But some things... they can't be fixed. So instead, I'm giving you this—a collection of moments. The good ones, the happy ones. The ones where we were still whole. I hope they remind you that, even when things fell apart, we loved you. We always did.
Love, Dad
Layla's hands trembled as she set the letter aside. She opened the scrapbook, flipping through the pages. It was filled with photos—her as a toddler on her dad's shoulders, family vacations, birthday parties, and even candid moments she didn't remember. There were ticket stubs, pressed flowers, and handwritten notes, all carefully preserved.
Her throat tightened, and she quickly closed the book, unable to look anymore.
"Lay," Annie said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm fine," Layla said quickly, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She reached for the second box, desperate for a distraction.
The glossy white box was lighter, and when she opened it, she found a brand-new microwave oven nestled inside. A small card was taped to the door.
To my baking-loving rebel,
I saw this and thought of you. Maybe it's time you stop burning things in that old oven of yours.
Love, Mom
Layla let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The gesture was so... her mom. Practical but thoughtful.
"Wow," Annie said, peering at the microwave. "Your mom outdid herself this time."
Layla snorted, brushing a stray tear off her cheek. "Yeah, guess she did."
Aaron, who had been quietly sipping his coffee, finally spoke. "You okay?"
Layla looked at him, then at Annie, and finally at the two gifts on the table. "Yeah," she said softly. "I think I am."
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the morning settling around them. Then Annie clapped her hands, breaking the tension.
"Alright, emotional moment over," she declared. "We've got a Christmas party to prep for. Layla, go get dressed. You're coming home with me, and I'm not taking no for an answer."
Layla rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She glanced at Aaron. "You sticking around?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'll head out. Got some family stuff to handle."
Layla nodded, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something that made her heart ache in a way she didn't quite understand.
"Thanks for last night," he said quietly, just for her.
"Anytime," she replied, her voice equally soft.
As she went to get ready, she heard Annie and Aaron bickering good-naturedly in the kitchen. It brought a small smile to her face. For all the chaos, all the complications, this—right here—felt like home.