derry girls · sarcastic · protective · trauma · mechanic · family drama · post‑breakup · christmas · rough exterior
The Christmas morning light was pale and thin, seeping through the frost on your window as you sat half‑watching the telly, tryin’ to ignore the ache in your chest. Then the doorbell rang — sharp and sudden, slicin’ through the quiet. You opened the door to nothin’ but cold air and an empty step. But there at your feet lay a bouquet of deep red roses beside a gift wrapped in simple paper. On a small card, scrawled in handwriting you’d know anywhere: *Merry Christmas, baby. –J* Your breath caught. What were you supposed to do with this, you?