Page 6 of Daddy's Christmas Obsession
"I need space, Kyra. This is all too intense. I can't handle the pressure anymore."
Pressure. As if loving him had been some kind of burden.
I unfold myself from the couch and shuffle to the kitchen counter where my wallet sits empty next to a stack of bills. Rent due in ten days. The heating bill marked FINAL NOTICE. Tuition payment schedule for next semester. The notice taped to my door this morning - "Emergency Building Inspection: Structural issues identified. All tenants must vacate for repairs within 48 hours. Estimated completion time: 2-3 weeks." I open the letter from the university scholarship committee, though Ialready know what it says. The same thing as the email from my research advisor and the notice about the biomedical grant program.
Funding cuts. Position eliminated. We regret to inform you.
My fingertips touch the cold metal of the necklace Aaron gave me on our second anniversary. The tiny silver microscope charm was his acknowledgment of my dream—to finish medical school, to research rare diseases, to make a difference. Now it feels like another broken promise.
I count what's left in the ramen packet box. Six. Enough for two days if I eat once a day. The campus coffee shop paycheck doesn't hit until Friday, and the tutoring center closed for winter break. I'd been counting on spending Christmas at the Strickland family cabin, eating meals I didn't have to budget for, sleeping in a decent bed.
The apartment listing I'd circled in yesterday's paper sits crumpled in the trash. A studio closer to campus, cheaper than this place, with a roommate to split costs. Another desperate measure that won't matter now. Not after the landlord called to say they'd rented it to someone else.
I sink back onto the couch and stare at the tiny Christmas tree Aaron and I picked out together. Its lights cast shadows that remind me of better days.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and hope flares in my chest. But when I look at the screen, it's not Aaron's name that appears.
It's his father's.
"Victor Strickland" stares back at me, and my mouth goes dry. My finger hovers over the decline button. Why would he be calling me? We've only spoken a handful of times, brief conversations at family dinners where I felt like he was studying me.
The memory of the last Strickland family dinner surfaces—Victor standing in the doorway, his silver hair catching the light, his gaze locking with mine for a moment too long. The way my stomach had tightened when he smiled, a reaction I'd buried under layers of denial.
The phone continues to vibrate in my palm.
I swipe to accept. "Hello?"
"Kyra." His voice is deep, controlled, with a hint of warmth that catches me off guard. "I hope I'm not calling too late."
"No, I... I was awake." I sit up straighter. "Is everything okay? Is Aaron—"
"Aaron is fine," he says quickly. "Physically, anyway. Though I suspect you already know he's struggling with some... personal matters."
The careful way he says it makes my chest tighten. So Victor knows about the breakup. Of course he does. Aaron probably ran straight to his father after walking out of my apartment.
"He told you." It's not a question.
"He told me enough." There's a pause. "Kyra, I'm calling because I'm concerned. About both of you, actually."
Both of us? That's unexpected. "I don't understand."
"My son is confused right now. He's made some decisions that I don't think he fully understands the consequences of." Victor's voice is patient, almost gentle. "Young men his age often do foolish things when they feel overwhelmed."
My breath catches. Is he saying what I think he's saying? "Are you telling me he might change his mind?"
"I'm telling you that Christmas is next week, and you both planned to spend it at the family cabin. I think some time away from the pressures of daily life might help you both gain perspective on what's really important."
Hope stirs in my chest. The cabin. Those plans we'd made, the romantic Christmas we'd imagined, the chance to reconnect away from the stress of school and work.
"The cabin?"
"I know Aaron was looking forward to showing you the mountains again, to having you experience another Strickland family Christmas." His voice drops slightly. "And I was looking forward to spending more time with you myself. We've barely had the chance to have a real conversation since your birthday party all those years ago."
The reference to my twentieth birthday sends heat racing through me. I remember standing in his study, surrounded by dark wood and leather-bound books, the way he'd tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. The electricity that had passed between us before Aaron's voice broke the spell.
"But Aaron said—"
"Aaron said a lot of things he didn't mean. Trust me, I know my son." There's something possessive in Victor's tone. "He cares about you, Kyra. More than he knows how to handle, I think."
