He agrees to a date with the company’s most overlooked woman just to dodge a lonely Christmas, but by the night’s end, he uncovers what’s really been eating at him

The atmosphere was cozy, almost magical. And there was something about Alice’s welcoming gaze that disarmed his usual defences. My family is complicated, he began, his voice low and measured, as if he were unearthing memories he preferred to forget.

When I was a child, my parents lived on a roller coaster of fights and reconciliations. Every holiday, especially Christmas, ended up being a battlefield. The smallest detail, like the turkey being dry or someone forgetting to buy a gift, turned into a major argument.

For me, Christmas was never that harmonious time people talk about. He paused, his expression distant and Alice remained silent, encouraging him to continue. But there was one Christmas, he resumed now with a slightly choked voice.

When everything seemed different, my parents were calm, almost… kind to each other. I remember my older sister even joked that it was a Christmas miracle. They laughed, talked without arguing, and for the first time in years, it seemed like we were a normal family.

Tyler lowered his gaze, gripping the glass tighter. At the end of that night, when we were all gathered in the living room, they called us for a conversation. I thought it was to announce some special plan, something that would justify that unexpected truce.

But what they said was that they were going to separate. He let out a short, bitter laugh, almost as an attempt to relieve the weight of the memory. It was a shock.

I spent the night staring at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, trying to understand how something that seemed so peaceful and happy had been just… a farewell in disguise. After years apart, my parents ended up getting back together. It seemed like they had found a balance, but the feeling of instability never went away.

Since then, they always invite me to spend the holidays with them. But deep down, I think I have… fear. What if, in the middle of an apparently calm dinner, they start arguing again? Or worse, what if at the end of the night, they announce once again that they are going to separate? It’s as if a part of me is always waiting for the worst to happen.

That’s why I prefer to keep my distance, you know? It’s easier to deal with the loneliness I already know than to open up to something that might end up hurting me again. He took a deep breath. Maybe it’s cowardice, but that’s how I’ve been dealing with it.

I avoid getting close so as not to risk losing everything again. Alice listened attentively, her gaze filled with empathy, as Tyler shared his story. When he finished, a brief silence settled in.

Tyler felt the weight of the honesty he had just shared, but in a mix of curiosity and vulnerability, he asked hesitantly, And you, Alice? Why didn’t you have any plans for Christmas? Alice gently set down her fork, as if the gesture helped her gather the words she needed to say. Her brown eyes softened, but there was a shadow there, the mark of an old and deep pain. Well, my parents have already passed away.

They were both wonderful people, but they left too soon. And to be honest, my marriage, it didn’t survive the death of our three-year-old son. The impact of her words was immediate.

Tyler, completely caught off guard, almost choked on his food. He dropped his fork onto the plate, the sound echoing in the silent room. His eyes widened as he looked at Alice, trying to reconcile her discreet and tranquil image with the immense suffering she carried.

I… I’m sorry, Alice. I had no idea. His voice faltered, laden with a mix of regret and embarrassment for never having truly noticed her…