My parents said, “We’re doing a small Christmas — just close family.” The next morning, I saw photos: 38 people. Even my ex was there. – Full Article

So I bought a small ham, a cheap bottle of wine, and a pie I ended up eating alone in my apartment on Christmas night while old movies played quietly enough for me to hear the radiator clanking beside the wall.

The next morning, I woke up to a tag notification.

My cousin Jessica had posted photos from my parents’ house.

Not four people.

Thirty-eight.

Folding tables stretched through the living room. There were catered trays, balloons, matching Christmas sweaters, children tearing open presents beneath the tree I had helped my mother decorate the weekend before. Mason stood grinning with a beer in his hand. My father carved prime rib at the kitchen counter.

And then I saw him.

Ryan.

My ex-fiancé.