It All Started On Christmas Eve

"Artificial or fresh trees?" Winnie asked, her blue eyes glowing in anticipation. My best friend had been eager to hear about my plans for Christmas Eve, but I wanted it to be a surprise for everyone, including her.

"I'm not telling you," I answered, waggling my eyebrows, childishly.

"Don't be like that, Amy. Just tell me what you've gotten for the Christmas tree." Winnie whined, batting her eyes like a child.

A Christmas tree. It seems like my surprise isn't a surprise anyone. My dear Winnie has dug up my wishlist and read it. Typical Winnie.

"An artificial tree," I answered, giving in to her. She would have found out about it anyway. She had her ways.

"That's fine. Who has the time to take care of a natural tree?" She shrugged.

"You do, Winnie." I teased her.

When we were so much younger, Winnie took care of her natural Christmas tree for months until it died.

"I was ten, Amy!" She retorted, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"But you did," I teased her, knowing fully well that she doesn't like being teased.

"I'll let it slide because it is Christmas Eve," she said before throwing a pillow at me.

Yes, it is Christmas Eve. For the past three years, I have written down a wishlist for Christmas and new year. I love celebrating, and I love to do it with my loved ones.

My festive holidays were always with Winnie until I met Raphael, the love of my life. He made sure every Christmas was different and special for me. This year, I can't wait to spend every moment with him just like always.

"What type of lights will you use?" Winnie asked, interrupting my daydream.

"Lights?" I stared at her, flashing her a confused look. I don't really know much about them. This is my first time decorating a Christmas tree, but I won't be doing it alone.

"You should know if it is an incandescent light or LED," she said after noticing my confused look.

"I don't know," I burst out laughing.

"I don't blame you. Christmas tree ain't cakes or cookies," she teased, indirectly throwing a shade at me.

"I know what you are trying to do, but I will let it slide because it's Christmas Eve," I replied with a smile.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes before rolling to the other side of the bed. "Use incandescent light," she advised.

"Why?" I asked with a frown.

"Simple logic, Amy. Artificial trees and incandescent light bulbs." She said it like she was reciting the national pledge.

It might be simple logic to her because she was an expert in design and decorations. I, on the other hand, am just a baker who spends almost all her day behind the oven.

"Fine, incandescent it is."

"Ornaments?" She asked.

"Plastic, obviously." I answered, confidently.

I might not be familiar with other things when it comes to decorations, but ornaments for Christmas trees are plastic.

"Smart Amy," she teased, bugging me at the side with her elbow.

"Stop it, Winnie," I giggled loudly.

"Garlands?" She asked.

"How do you know all this?" I demanded, surprised by the number of questions she was asking me.

"I'm an interior designer for crying out loud," she answered, her high-pitched voice shrilled loudly in my ears.

"Mrs interior designer, what do you suggest?" I half talked and half smiled.

She rolled her eyes before sitting up from her former position. Using her fingers to describe, she listed and I listened. "There is holly, evergreen and mistletoe. Choose anyone of the three."

"Evergreen," I answered without thinking too much about it.

"Just like the name, evergreen." She joked, causing me to laugh at her pun jokes.

"What else?" I inquired.

"Balls," she answered.

"Picking balls won't be my problem. I'm familiar with a few." I told her with the intention of moving to the next question.

"Raphael's balls would be of great use then," Winnie joked, but I coughed.

Her unexpected joke made me choke in my saliva. Why did her mind think of that?

"What the hell, Winnie?" I coughed as I tried to catch my breath.

"Stop acting like you don't play with his balls," she continued her dirty talk.

"I think we are done with this conversation," I said, ignoring her vulgar talk.

"You have a dirty mind, Amy. I was talking about his tennis balls. We all know Raphael plays table tennis." She said, playfully denying her initial words.

"Tennis or not, I'm not interested in the balls topic." I said firmly, getting up from bed.

"Are you mad at me?" She asked as she mirrored my action.

"I can't be mad on Christmas Eve. I know the rules," I answered, winking at her. That's just a sign to make her believe I wasn't mad at her.

"I will be leaving for Raphael's soon. I don't want to keep him waiting," I told her.

"I will be leaving for Brooklyn too, but Jay is picking me up at six," Winnie said.

Jay, unlike Raphael, was picking his girlfriend up, but if I told Raphael to pick me up, he wouldn't buy the idea. He never does.

"You should get going now," Winnie advised, interrupting the awkward silence between us.

Christmas Eve in New York City wasn't like a regular day. Everything I feel, see and hear bears a remarkable feeling of the festive season. The period has always been the most anticipated for me because I love spending time with Raphael and his cousin, Rachel.

At the back of the taxi, I could feel the cold air hitting me hard, but it was endurable. Love makes all things endurable.

"Right turn," I reminded the driver.

"I know my way around here, ma'am," the driver answered, politely.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, just like I always do whenever I sense that I offended someone.

"There's no need to apologize." The driver said, easing the worrying feeling gnawing at me.

Despite how much I tried to compose myself, I can't shake off the nervous feeling within me. Maybe trying a new thing causes nervousness. Who knows?

"We are here," the driver said.

"Thank you," I said as I paid the driver.

"Have a lovely Christmas," he said.

"Same to you," I answered before walking away from him.

Shaking off the nervous feeling, I walked towards Raphael's apartment. I pressed the familiar passcode on the door and stepped into Raphael's apartment, expecting the warm and the comforting feeling of his space. Instead, I was greeted by a strange and unsettling sound.

At first, I thought it was the sound from the TV, but as I approached, I realized the TV's screen was blank. This piqued my curiosity, and I followed the sound. My heart beat slightly faster as the sound grew louder, and more distinct, causing my stomach to twist into knots.

A female voice, loud and seductive, filled the air. Moans and whispers echoed from every corner of the room, making my skin crawl. I felt a creeping sense of dread as I moved deeper into the apartment. I hope it is not what I think it is.

My hand reached out, hesitating for a moment before grasping the door handle to his room. I pushed it open, and my world shattered.

Raphael and his cousin, Rachel, were entangled in each other's arms. Is this a dream? I wondered as time seemed to stop, leaving me alone with the reality in front of me.

I stood there, paralyzed, as my mind struggled to process the scene before me. Raphael's eyes, usually bright and warm, were closed, lost at the moment. Rachel's hands were tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his skin.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, followed by a crushing sense of betrayal. How could he? How could he do this to me?

"Raphael," his name, the venom on my tongue escaped my lips like a sob.

They halted, shocked by my presence. "Amy," he called, more like a question.

Quickly, he struggled to free himself from Rachel's hands while Rachel struggled to cover herself and her shame, if she felt any.

"Your cousin," I mouthed as my eyes locked onto Raphael's face, searching for answers.

"This is not what it looks like," he mumbled as he struggled to get out of bed.

The sight of him crawling on the bed broke my heart. A sharp pain of betrayal gnawed at me. His cousin, of all people in the world.

Hearing his voice could drive me off the bridge of sanity. I should leave before I do the unspeakable. I took a step back, my hand releasing the door handle as if it had burned me.

"Amelia," I heard my name as I stormed out of his house. The once familiar space was now hell for me. I could burn away from the betrayal if I spent an extra minute in his house.