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She cocked her head to listen better. There had definitely been something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—noise within the house.

It happened again; a small whimper.

Bounding up two stairs at a time, Caz reached the landing in seconds and listened again. Her bedroom door was open, so was the bathroom, but Grace’s door was firmly closed.

She tapped lightly on it. “Grace? Can I come in?”

This time, the whimper became a sob and Caz forgot politeness and opened the door. Peering into the darkness, she could just make out the figure of Grace, curled up on her bed.

“Grace? What’s wrong?”

She edged nearer, until she could slide onto the bed and push herself closer. Just as she reached out, Grace turned and burrowed into her, sobbing uncontrollably.

She didn’t need to be told; she felt it. Her arms slid around Grace easily and she pulled her closer. The pain, the heartbreak—all of it trembling within her embrace.

They’d suffer together.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, and kissed her head over and over until even she believed it might be okay.

Christmas morning was cold. The kind of cold where, without central heating, you would stay in bed under the duvet and fester until you were so hungry you had no choice but to get up.

Snow had been falling for over a week now and the entire area was blanketed. On any other day, Caz would have found some joy in waking up to a white Christmas, but what was there to be joyous about?

They’d gone out the night before and met friends at the bar. Keeping everything pushed down and unspoken inan attempt to not upset Grace, Caz had allowed herself to be dragged along. They tried to appear like everything was rosy because they hadn’t told anyone about the pregnancy, or the fact that it hadn’t worked.

“What was the point?”Grace had said.

Tons of people were there, all having fun until the snow started up again and everyone left to get home safely. How they’d both put on smiles and happy voices, she didn’t know, but then, they were good at lying to people now, weren’t they?

Maybe even to themselves.

Grace had cried the moment the key was in the door. She’d cried every night. Caz could hear her sobs. Every time, she’d get up, pad barefoot across the landing and knock gently on the door, then she’d climb into bed and wrap Grace in her arms, and they’d stay like that ‘til morning.

It broke her heart.

Each morning, Grace would get up, put her face on, dress silently, and go to work with a packed lunch Caz had made the night before.

She moved through the motions until she could come home and climb back into bed again.

Lunch remained barely touched.

Caz had knocked the extra hours at work on the head, wanting to be at home with Grace. Of course, everyone had had a good giggle at that.

The love birds all alone for Christmas.

It had been the garage joke: How much Caz was doting on Grace. They’ll be married soon, they’d all say. Caz would laugh itall off before she’d pack up and head home for another night of being useless.

Getting home, she’d find Grace already in bed, curled up, sometimes crying, other times just lying there and staring off into space.

That was how she had found Grace Christmas morning, but something shifted in Caz. There was supportive, and then there was permissive.

Allowing this to continue was hurting them both, wasn’t it?

Caz got up, showered and dressed, before heading downstairs to make Grace a breakfast she didn’t expect she would eat but was getting anyway. Life had to move on, otherwise they would stagnate.

A toasted English muffin, halved and shared between two plates, one poached egg on each half, a generous pouring of hollandaise sauce, and a sprinkling of rocket. She placed one plate onto the tray along with cutlery, a glass of orange juice, and a small present, wrapped perfectly.