Snow fell gently outside the windows of Ayaka's apartment, blanketing the city in a soft hush that only came once a year.
Golden fairy lights lined the edges of the living room, casting a warm, cozy glow over the space.
The scent of simmering stew and roasted chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the cinnamon-sweet aroma of Kai's latest attempt at baking holiday cookies—slightly burned, as usual.
Ayaka sat cross-legged on the floor near the kotatsu, wrapping the last of the gifts in glossy paper, her fingers moving with slow, practiced ease.
She glanced at the clock.
Kai was supposed to be back any minute with the cake they'd ordered, and as far as she knew, it would just be the two of them again this year.
Same as always.
A quiet Christmas.
A safe one.
Still, she tried not to let the hollow in her chest take up too much space.
Just as she tucked the final ribbon in place, the front door swung open with a rush of cold air.
"I'm back!" Kai called out, taking off his boots. "I got the cake, and they gave us a discount 'cause they said you looked like a celebrity on TV last week."
Ayaka laughed softly. "Guess being publicly humiliated has its perks."
He strode in holding a box in one hand, his coat still dusted with snow. "You didn't look humiliated. You looked like a woman with secrets."
"That's not much better."
Kai smirked and set the cake down on the counter. "Anyway, let's eat before—"
A knock sounded at the door.
Ayaka blinked. "Did you forget something downstairs?"
"Nope. I came straight up."
Another knock. Firmer this time.
They exchanged a look before Kai moved to the door, cracking it open cautiously. Then he froze.
"…Kei?"
Ayaka stood up so fast she nearly knocked over a stack of gifts.
Kei stood in the hallway, snowflakes melting into his dark coat, a familiar sternness on his face—but this time, it was softened by something rare: a smile.
"Merry Christmas!" he said simply.
Ayaka blinked in disbelief. "Wait—you're here? As in—you're not on call?"
"I switched shifts weeks ago." Kei replied, stepping inside. "Thought I'd surprise you two."
Kai gaped. "You—planned this? Are you serious? The Kei I know doesn't even plan lunch breaks."
Kei rolled his eyes. "It's been years since the three of us spent Christmas together. I figured it was time."
Ayaka's eyes welled unexpectedly. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed this—him—until that moment.
She stepped forward and threw her arms around Kei without hesitation.
He stiffened for half a second, then awkwardly patted her back. "Okay, okay. I'm not a snowman, you don't need to melt on me."
Kai snorted. "You're lucky. I didn't even get a hug."
"You'll get one if you bring me wine." Ayaka shot back, wiping her eyes quickly before Kei could see.
They all laughed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment felt full—of warmth, of noise, of something she hadn't let herself feel in weeks.
Kei took off his coat and joined them in the living room.
The three of them sat around the kotatsu, sharing stories, poking fun at Kai's cooking, and reminiscing about childhood.
Christmases that felt like they belonged to another life.
Ayaka watched them quietly between sips of hot tea—Kai laughing with his whole body, and Kei softening in ways only the family ever brought out in him.
And for the first time since Akihiko disappeared, she didn't feel like she was holding herself together with tape and string.
It wasn't a grand celebration.
It wasn't loud or luxurious.
But it was real.
And it was enough—for now.
After dinner and a round of bad karaoke from Kai, the laughter in the apartment had quieted to a gentle hum.
The snow outside had thickened into a soft white veil, and a mellow instrumental version of a Christmas song played faintly in the background.
Ayaka sat curled up in a blanket beside the kotatsu, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her mug.
The warmth of the room didn't quite reach the cold she'd been holding in her chest for months—but she'd gotten good at hiding it.
Kei was the first to break the silence.
He leaned back against the couch, his voice low but firm. "How are you really doing, Ayaka?"
Ayaka blinked, startled by the directness.
Her eyes flicked to Kai, who sat across from her with a faint crease between his brows.
"It's been four months." Kei continued, his gaze never leaving her. "Since Dr. Nakamura left. Since you stood outside his door and refused to move."
Ayaka's grip on the mug tightened.
Kai shifted, his voice softer. "We didn't want to push. You weren't ready to talk then. But… are you now?"
Her chest tightened.
Something about the way they were looking at her—not as overprotective brothers, not as a doctor or a professor—but just as Kei and Kai, her family—made the carefully built dam inside her crack.
"I thought I was okay." she said, barely above a whisper. "I kept telling myself I was fine. That I'd move on. That he made his choice."
Kei and Kai stayed silent. Listening.
Ayaka stared into the tea, her reflection warping in the ripples. "But every time I come home, I think I'll see him. Every time I write a sentence, I hear his voice in my head. Every time I close my eyes, I still feel the way he used to look at me like I meant something."
Her voice wavered.
"I don't even know why he left. He just—disappeared. No goodbye. No message. Nothing."
Her shoulders trembled, and she quickly looked away, trying to blink back the tears burning in her eyes.
"I know I wasn't supposed to fall for him. I know it was just a contract at first. But it stopped feeling fake a long time ago. I just… didn't realize how real it had become until he was gone."
The mug slipped from her hands and landed with a soft thud on the table as the first tear broke free.
"I waited every day." she choked out, her voice cracking.
"Every single day I hoped he'd come back. That he'd walk through the door and explain everything. That maybe it was a misunderstanding, or he had no choice."
Tears fell freely now, unstoppable.
"But he didn't."
Ayaka buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled between sobs.
"I miss him so much it hurts."
Before she could retreat further, she felt arms wrap around her from both sides.
Kai pulled her into his chest, one hand gently stroking her hair.
Kei leaned in from the other side, solid and warm, his hand firm on her back, grounding her.
They didn't say anything at first. They didn't need to.
They just held her.
"I'm sorry." she whispered between sobs. "I didn't want you to worry. I didn't want you to know how broken I was."
"You don't have to hide that from us." Kai murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Not ever."
"We're your brothers, Ayaka." Kei added softly. "We're here. Even for the parts of you that are hurting."
Ayaka clung to them like a lifeline, letting herself cry freely for the first time in months. No more pretending. No more silence.
Just the truth.
Just the ache.
And the love that held her through it.
Eventually, the sobs quieted, her breathing evening out as exhaustion took over.
Kei helped her lie down gently on the couch, tucking the blanket around her, while Kai brought her a fresh glass of water.
She didn't say much after that—just curled up, staring at the faint reflection of the snow in the window.
But for the first time since Akihiko disappeared, the pain didn't feel so isolating.
Because now it was shared.
And somehow, that made it a little more bearable.
------
Later that night, after the tears had dried and the warmth of their shared embrace had settled into something quieter, the three siblings sat together in Kai's living room.
The glow of the Christmas lights flickered gently across the walls, and the snow outside continued to fall in peaceful silence.
Ayaka nursed a fresh cup of hot cocoa, her knees drawn up under the blanket draped over her legs.
She felt emotionally drained, but lighter somehow.
A little raw, but no longer alone.
Kai was flipping through the TV channels aimlessly while Kei scrolled through his phone, but the silence between them was comfortable—soft and familiar like the calm after a storm.
Then, Ayaka broke it.
"I've been thinking about moving out." she said quietly, not looking up from her cup.
Kai paused mid-click. Kei slowly lowered his phone.
Kei was the first to speak, his voice even but curious. "Out of your apartment?"
Ayaka nodded, her eyes locked on the swirling marshmallows floating in her drink. "I've been thinking about it for a while now… I just couldn't bring myself to say it out loud until tonight."
Kai leaned forward a bit, brows furrowed. "Because of Nakamura?"
She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I know it probably sounds silly, but everything there reminds me of him. The hallway. The elevator. The view from my window."
The ache in her chest pressed tighter with each word, but she continued.
"I try to focus on work, on writing, on just… surviving each day. But being in that space feels like I'm constantly haunted by things I can't let go of. I walk past his door, and my heart still skips, even now. I can't sleep some nights. I just lie there thinking about all the little things. All the 'what ifs."
Kei exhaled slowly, setting his phone down on the coffee table. "It doesn't sound silly at all."
Ayaka glanced at him.
He met her gaze with calm, steady eyes.
"Wanting to move on doesn't mean you're trying to erase what happened. It means you're choosing to heal in your own way."
Kai nodded beside her, his voice softer now. "If that place feels like a cage, then you have every right to leave it behind. No one's going to think less of you for needing space."
Ayaka swallowed hard, her voice catching. "I just… I think I need to start over. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere without ghosts."
Kei offered a small, reassuring smile. "Then we'll help you. After the holidays, we'll start looking. No pressure. No rush. But we're with you every step of the way."
Kai leaned back and added, "And I'll help you pack. I'll even carry all the heavy boxes. Like the good older brother I am."
She let out a watery laugh. "You just want first dibs on my bookshelf."
"Guilty."
Ayaka looked at them both—Kei with his quiet strength, and Kai with his playful warmth.
And suddenly, she didn't feel like she was crumbling anymore.
She was still hurting. Still grieving.
But now, she was no longer doing it alone.
The lights on the tree twinkled as a Christmas music played faintly in the background. Kai stood and brought over the last slice of cake, splitting it into three.
Kei poured more tea.
And Ayaka, for the first time in a long time, allowed herself to imagine a future.
A new place.
A new chapter.