Amara.
It was almost ten in the morning, and I was still lying in bed. I had a lot on my mind, yet at the same time, there were no thoughts at all—only a dull heaviness I couldn't quite shake.
With minimal movement, I turned my head toward the calendar resting on my bedside table.
25th December 2023.
Christmas.
My gaze drifted to the window—or rather, to the world beyond it.
Laughter.
Merrymaking.
Families gathered together, sharing moments that would later become memories.
The thought made my chest ache.
Mom was probably sitting alone by our small fireplace, staring at that single framed photo of Dad and me. I could picture her expression clearly—trying to stay composed, failing, then wiping her eyes before they overflowed with tears. After that, she would call me.
On a day like this, I shouldn't have been lying helplessly in bed. In previous years, I would have been awake before sunrise, rushing to the kitchen to prepare ingredients for our Christmas meal. I would have gone to Mom's room, cleared my throat dramatically, and sung a carol completely off-key.
She would wake up laughing—or sighing—or quietly cursing me under her breath. I never minded. Those moments were what made living with her worth it.
In the end, I would wish her a Merry Christmas and drag her to the kitchen so we could cook together.
I smiled, sadly.
A memory that had once amused me now felt unbearably distant.
Knock. Knock.
I was startled at the sudden sound on my door, and pushed myself upright.
"Come in," I said after forcing some composure into my voice.
There was a brief pause before the door handle turned and an unfamiliar face peeked inside.
"Hi," she said softly, stepping fully into the room. "Merry Christmas!"
Her animated tone caught me off guard. And yet, for reasons I couldn't explain, her presence seemed to brighten the room.
Maybe it was her long, wavy brown hair. Or her striking facial features. Or perhaps it was the wide, enchanting smile she wore as she looked at me.
Whatever it was, my first impression was unmistakable—she had a presence that I would never forget.
"Can I come closer?" she asked, already walking towards me at a quick pace.
Quirky.
I was too stunned to respond, so I simply stared.
She stopped in front of me, bent slightly, rested her chin between her fingers, and studied me with open curiosity.
I couldn't read her at all.
Before she could unsettle me further, my grandmother appeared and lightly smacked the back of her head.
"Ouch!" the girl groaned, rubbing the spot.
"Silly girl. I told you not to behave strangely," my grandmother scolded.
The girl pouted. "Grandma, I was just getting to know her. How is that strange?"
"Tsk." My grandmother clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes before turning to me. "Amara, dear, this is your cousin, Seraphina. I told you about her, remember?"
Oh.
My aunt's daughter. We were the same age, and my grandmother had hoped we'd get along once they returned from their trip.
I wasn't so sure—she and I seemed like the exact opposites.
"And you must be Amara," Seraphina said, hands planted on her hips. "The famous daughter of Grandma's beloved son. I can assure—"
Whack.
Her sentence died as my grandmother smacked her again.
"Grandma!" Seraphina exclaimed.
"If you have nothing sensible to say, go help your mother in the kitchen," my grandmother snapped.
Seraphina muttered something under her breath and turned toward the door. Just before leaving, she paused and looked back at me.
"Do you know how to give massages?"
The question startled me, but I shook my head in response, hoping that it would suffice.
"Ha!" She scoffed smugly and turned to my grandmother. "Keep treating me like this and you can forget about those premium massages I give you!"
Then she was gone.
My grandmother and I exchanged looks before we both let out small, surprised laughs.
"She's a little spoiled," my grandmother said as she came closer and sat beside me. "But she's honest—and amusing. Please give her a chance. I promise you'll never find a better friend."
Friend.
All my life, there was but one person who earned that title—just one person. Davis. He was an irreplaceable person in my life. And yet, I had…
The word reminded me of that memory I tried so desperately to forget.
But I snapped out of it in time before becoming overwhelmed by my emotions. I stared into my grandmother's expecting eyes and nodded hesitantly. "I'll try," I promised.
She smiled and rose. "Good. Now hurry and come downstairs. The entire family is waiting—I'd like them to meet you."
My body stiffened at the thought of facing the rest of her family.
Grandmother had been nothing but kind to me. She was patient, protective and warm in ways that felt almost unreal. And Seraphina, despite her strangeness, seemed open and unfiltered, the kind of person I could get along with if I tried hard enough.
Still, they were only two people.
I didn't know what awaited me beyond them. I didn't know how much of my presence would be tolerated by the rest of the family. Blood ties didn't always guarantee acceptance after all.
Yet, regardless of my uncertainty, I straightened my shoulders and forced my expression into something resembling calmness. If I had learnt anything over the years, it was how to appear unaffected even when my thoughts were anything but that.
"I will be there shortly," I finally said.
Not long after my grandmother left, my phone began to vibrate.
Mom.
I grabbed it immediately. Three red hearts glowed on the screen, confirming my guess.
"Mom," I said softly as soon as I answered.
"Amara."
Just hearing her voice made my chest tighten. "Merry Christmas, Mom. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm doing well, baby," she said. "I just miss you."
I leaned into my pillow as warmth spread through me. "I miss you more—every minute of the day."
She chuckled, and the sound both comforted and hurt me all at once.
"Sweet talker," she teased. "So tell me—what's Christmas like there? Is winter too cold? How's your grandmother? Have you met your aunt and her family yet? Have you transformed again? What—"
"Mom," I interrupted gently. "Breathe. One question at a time. I'll tell you everything."
There was a pause. A necessary one.
Then she asked quietly, "Tell me, Amara… how are you, really?"
I didn't think. I couldn't.
"I'm scared most of the time," I admitted. "Hopeful sometimes. I want to belong, but I feel like I never will. I want to run back to you, but I also want to stay and fight." My voice trembled as I continued. "I know I need to figure myself out before I can come back without fear. I'm scared of what I am. I want to be human again—but I don't want to deny Dad's blood either."
I took a shaky breath.
"I'm cold, Mom. And you're too far away to share your warmth with me."