My fake family

Months later

Amber

I've never been a big fan of Christmas. Those cheesy songs, little lights flashing everywhere, and that air of "forced joy" always irritated me deeply. And of course, after everything that's happened in the last few months, my contempt has only increased. Kris was dead. My father... well, I still couldn't even think about him without feeling a shiver of disgust.

But there I was, months later, returning to Denver, where the snow insisted on covering everything with a cold, white layer. I spent days trying to pretend my life was normal — posting happy photos on social media, buying new clothes, and publishing as if nothing had happened. But inside, I was devastated. Guilt followed me like a shadow, and the antidepressant was the only thing that allowed me to put one foot in front of the other.

I couldn't run away forever. It was Christmas, and, as always, I had to make my grand appearance at my parents' house. Even though every fiber of my being wanted to stay in New