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Why does everyone keep leaving everything to the very last minute? Rio checked her watch for what felt like the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes, her foot tapping angrily against the polished floors of the video game store. In front of her, a man in his sixties was pestering the poor cashier about how they’re encouraging the brainwashing of the young generation by selling video games and virtual reality hardware.
She’d had enough of it, her magic cracking at her fingertips like the wood in their fireplace. She was supposed to be home with her wife and their boys by now, making Christmas cookies and decorating the tree, not listening to an old man complain about technological progress.
“Excuse me, sir.” She gently patted his shoulder, getting his attention. “I’m sure—” she paused and leaned to the side, squinting her eyes to catch a glimpse at the cashier’s nametag. “Nigel would love to hear all about this, but we all have families that we’d like to get to. Preferably today.”
Even she was surprised at how politely she’d handled it, judging by how tired she was after roaming the stores since the crack of dawn for the perfect gifts. Wanda would definitely be proud of her—maybe this could be her present, considering she had yet to get her something. If only it were as simple to shop for her wife as it was for the boys, who’d been begging them for this game since it came out.
Deep in her thoughts, Rio didn’t register the man scowling at her, her mind going back to her family. Oh, how she’d missed them… Three weeks without them felt like an eternity to her—three weeks of missed dinners, movie nights, and comforting Wanda after a nightmare.
“You should’ve thought about that before leaving Christmas shopping to the last minute. You’ve got some nerve coming here and expecting things to go fast.” He spat at her, turning back to the poor boy. So much for Christmas spirit… Rio thought to herself as she rolled her eyes at him, deciding there was no point in arguing with him, and she would’ve stuck to it if he had kept his mouth shut.
“Such a lousy mother you must be. Being here instead of spending Christmas Eve with your children. I pity the man who married you.” He muttered under his breath, already with his back to her. But she heard him as clearly as if he had whispered it right in her ear.
Suddenly, everything turned red before Rio’s eyes, her whole body trembling from the sheer anger running through her veins. How dare he? HOW DARE HE! Never in her vast time on this planet has she ever wished more to take someone’s life than in this moment, but that’s not the way things were supposed to be—she was never meant to take lives, just gently help them pass through.
It’s a wonder how she didn’t break a tooth with how hard she was gritting them, her jaw locked and rigid. For a moment, nobody said anything. Rio took that as an opportunity to study him carefully. His eyes seemed to be fogged up by a misty haze, and his trembling hands were covered in bruises—a telltale sign of multiple IVs. Judging by all that and the yellowish tone of his skin, this was most likely going to be his last Christmas, Rio concluded. She almost took pity on him, but no one got to question her loyalty and dedication to her family.
She took a step towards him, slow and calculated, then leaned over him. “You have no idea what goes on in my family. And my wife?” She smirked, letting the words sink in, her fists unclenching slowly. “She takes pride in knowing we get to spend the rest of our lives together and watch our kids grow. I’ll see you soon…” And with that, she paid for the game and strutted out of the store, All I Want for Christmas blasting through the speakers.
Snow began to fall without announcement, thin white flakes drifting lazily from the sky as if the world had exhaled and decided to slow down. They caught in her hair and melted against her eyelashes—that, paired with rosy cheeks from the cold, made Rio look almost childlike, her chocolate eyes standing out.
The streetlights turned each flake into a small spark of light, and the air felt hushed, wrapped in something almost sacred. By the time she reached their street, everything was covered in a white fuzzy blanket. It felt like the whole world was asleep, finally at peace. Rio took a minute to admire it all, the way twinkling lights lit up each house, and how window sills were adorned with cookies and milk for Santa and his reindeer.
A touch of nostalgia came over Rio, her mind replaying how she used to help a younger Billy and Tommy set up the very same snacks, while Wanda would wiggle her fingers behind them, making it sound like Santa was parking his sleigh on the roof. Back then, the twins would giggle at each other before storming up the stairs, the pitter-patter of their tiny feet on the hardwood floor echoing around the house while their mothers watched, their arms wrapped around one another. Now, they wouldn't even admit this had ever happened if Wanda or Rio dared to mention it, claiming that at 12 years old, they were too old to believe in Santa. Wanda, who would do anything to freeze time on her baby boys, would chuckle softly and then remind them that their mothers were literally The Scarlet Witch and Lady Death.
Stepping into the hallway and shaking the snow off her boots, Rio felt like a stranger inside her own home. Everything was in place, just as it had been when she left—Wanda’s keys in the bowl on the console, the boys’ sneakers scattered on the shoe rack—so perhaps she was the one out of place.
Just as she was taking off her coat and reaching into the closet for a hanger, she was starting to hear the house hum with activity. She paused, trying to make sense of the sound.
Tommy was running laps around the Christmas tree at the speed of light, leaving a trail of needles behind him. Billy, being the more responsible one between the two, was throwing magic orbs at him in a futile attempt to stop him, only to hit a bag of powdered sugar sitting on the kitchen island.
“Boys… What did I tell you about magic around the house?” Wanda’s voice rang from the kitchen. A moment later, Tommy appeared before her, his hand gripping his twin by the collar of his shirt.
“He started it!” The boys talked over each other as they pointed accusingly at one another. One of Wanda’s infamous head tilts was enough to shut them both up, making Agatha, who was sipping on a glass of wine, stifle a snicker.
“Listen…” She started, closing the distance between them, resting a hand on each of the twins’ shoulders. “I know you’re bored and impatient and so excited to open up your gifts. But can you please keep away from the tree before Mama comes home and we get the chance to decorate it? You almost knocked it over twice already…” She scolded them gently, but her voice held no anger.
“Okay, we’ll try to be more careful.” Billy nodded before storming off again, Tommy not too far behind him.
Wanda let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, taking a seat across from Agatha. Her mind was running a million miles an hour—between Christmas preparations and missing her wife, the boys’ restlessness was getting to her.
“You two are in for a rollercoaster ride. Are you planning on telling her soon or…” Agatha broke the silence just as Rio was stepping further into the house, and she would’ve almost let the cat out of the bag if it weren’t for the chorus of excited ‘MAMA’ coming from the boys.
Rio barely made it out of the hallway when two bodies collided with her at full speed like two tween-sized tornadoes. Wrapping her arms around them, she noticed they fit differently in her embrace, as if they’d gotten taller. Rationally, she knew that boys their age were bound to go through growth spurts, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. To her, it was just another reminder of how much she’d missed from their lives.
From the kitchen, Wanda could sense Rio’s return, not through the boys’ cheery voices or the way her steps sounded heavier than anyone else’s, but by the force pulling her towards her like a magnet. Two pieces of a puzzle meant to be together so that they could give something greater meaning. Her heart was beating differently around Rio. Faster, but with a calmness given only by the knowledge of being in the presence of its protector.
When Rio finally saw her, leaning against the wall, watching the three of them, her breath hitched as if someone had punched all the air out of her lungs. Even though she was dressed in sweats and the traditional ugly Christmas sweater, Wanda was radiant. Sure, Wanda has always been beautiful, but this time, she had an unusual glow. Her emerald eyes shone brighter, like a forest in the morning when the sun warms its way through the branches, and her skin looked smoother, even more delicate, if that were possible.
All this time, the boys were talking poor Rio’s ears off, but the sound got muffled by the presence of her wife, who had decided to save her from the twins.
“Let’s let Mama breathe a bit. Why don’t we?” Wanda said, laughing as she waved her hands at them in a ‘make way’ gesture. “I got a special job for you. Get the ornament boxes from the garage. They’re already laid on the floor. You just need to bring them into the house.”
At the prospect of finally getting to decorate the tree, Tommy took Billy’s hand and superspeeded their way out, finally giving them a moment alone.
Wanda pulled Rio closer by the scarf she still had around her neck, then planted her lips against hers. The kiss was slow at first—a soft welcome-home peck—then gradually turned into something deeper. Rio sighed into the kiss, the pressure leaving her body in waves as she parted her lips, her tongue meeting Wanda’s in a dance of longing and devotion. A kiss that said everything they couldn’t all at once. I’m here. I see you. You are not alone.
They only pulled back when air became an issue, but even then, neither woman moved too far, their foreheads touching, both needing to feel the other close. “Hi, my love,” Wanda whispered against her wife’s lip, her breath warm on Rio’s skin.
Rio didn’t answer. She just tightened her hold on Wanda’s hips, grounding herself to her wife, her thumbs running gentle circles on the patch of skin where her sweater had ridden up, and grinned at her. That I am irrevocably and madly in love with you, grin. For a moment, none of them said anything, basking in the comfort of being near one another.
Finally, Rio was the one to break the spell. “You picked a tree without me?” She tried to mask the hurt in her voice as she leaned her head on her wife’s shoulder, facing the living room.
Ever perceptive of her wife’s feelings, Wanda cupped her face, forcing her to see the love and truth in her eyes. “I wanted to wait, but you know how those two can get. It was a nightmare keeping them from decorating it. But you're here now.”
Before Rio could reply, the sound of something breaking came out of the living room, followed by two ‘he did it’ and what sounded a lot like fighting. Rolling her eyes, Wanda slipped from her embrace and went to see what their rowdy boys were up to this time.
Alone again in the empty hallway, Rio couldn’t help but wonder what she did to deserve a life like this. No matter how chaotic it got, it was hers. Most would’ve been annoyed by the constant mayhem twin boys could bring, but she saw the beauty in it, in the simplest of things.
Having watched the whole scene from the kitchen, Agatha decided it was her time to step away, leaving the family to reconnect. Eggnog pitcher in hand, she tried to sneak past Rio without much interaction, knowing she couldn’t keep her mouth shut to save her life. Just as she was taking her coat from the rack, Rio appeared by her side, scarf in hand.
Startled by it, Agatha almost let it slip, “Rio, you naughty, naughty girl…” Realizing what she had just said, she bolted out the door, claiming she forgot to feed Señor Scratchy, leaving a puzzled Rio behind.
Later, after the tree had been decorated and the boys had gone to bed, Rio found herself on the couch, wine glass in hand, staring out the window into the night. The house was dark, save for the lights illuminating the tree and the flicker of the apple and cinnamon candle Wanda had lit up before going upstairs for a shower.
Rio was so deep in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Wanda coming down the stairs or, when she turned on their turntable, Frank Sinatra’s voice sneaking its way through their home. She only noticed her when the couch dipped beside her.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Wanda broke the silence, startling Rio, who gave a distant hum. “Me neither,” she continued. “For some reason, the sheets feel even colder when I know you’re home, but you’re not next to me, enchanting me with your glorious snores.”
Rio chuckled, but it was laced with insecurity more so than contentment. Not wanting to burden her wife, she kept quiet, reaching for Wanda’s legs, dragging them into her lap, and starting to massage them.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas kept playing softly in the background. “I know what you’re doing.” Wanda pushed, propping an arm on the back of the couch, and rested her head on it. “You’re keeping yourself busy so you don’t have to talk about whatever is eating at you. You don’t have to do it alone. Let me help you carry the load.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with all this.” Rio’s voice cracked as she worked a knot in her wife’s feet. “I don’t want to burden you with this. You don’t deserve this.” She finally admitted it, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill.
“Oh, honey…” Wanda got up from her seat and pulled her into her arms, and whatever walls Rio had left came down at once.
“I—” Rio started, then stopped, breath stuttering as she clutched at Wanda’s sleep shirt like it was the only solid thing in the room. “I’m surrounded by it. All the time. Death.” Her voice wavered. She swallowed hard. “This time of year is… It’s worse,” she tried again. “People—so many people—who just… give up.” She shook her head, pressing her face into Wanda’s shoulder. “Good people. People who shouldn’t be alone. And then I come home. To you. To the boys.” Her grip tightened, fingers twisting in the fabric. “And I don’t—” her breath hitched. “I don’t understand why I get this. Why I get all of this… when they don’t.” A broken laugh escaped her, wet and disbelieving. “If anyone’s unworthy, it’s me.”
Wanda’s heart ached seeing Rio so broken and unsure of herself as she kept raking her hand through her wife’s soft locks. If only she could see herself through Wanda’s eyes. Leaning back so she could see her better through her own glossy eyes, Wanda cupped her face, tracing the tear streaks on Rio’s face with the pads of her thumbs. “You, my love, are the kindest, most selfless person I’ve ever met. You are so patient with the boys, and you always make sure we’re taken care of.”
Rio opened her mouth to protest, but Wanda cut her off. “I wasn’t done. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. No one would have the courage to do what you do.” She continued, her voice fierce and filled with the love only a spouse who’d tear the world piece by piece for their love could hold.
Overwhelmed by self-hatred and doubt, Rio shook her head with such force she could have easily given herself whiplash. “I only take lives, Wanda. How does that make me worthy of anything?”
“You guide them, my love. You ease their journey into the next chapter. And you never take souls from their loved ones during Christmas. That must count for something.”
Wanda’s words worked like a balm to Rio’s soul, slowly mending the pieces together one by one. However, it wasn’t enough to keep her from drowning.
“Come to bed. The boys will be up at the crack of dawn, and you need the rest.” She pleaded with her, getting up herself.
“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes… I see them.”
“Then don’t close them. Look at me. See me. See us.”
With that, Rio let herself be gently dragged to bed by her wife, knowing that as long as she was with her, there was someone to catch her when she’d fall.
The bedroom was bathed in the soft light of the lamp on the bedside table and the pale glow of the snow outside the window. Wanda shut the door quietly behind them, and for a moment they just stood there, facing each other, breathing the same air.
Wanda didn’t say anything. She just stepped in close, close enough that Rio could feel the warmth of her body, and reached up to cup her face. Her thumbs brushed gently beneath her wife’s eyes, catching the last of her tears before leaning in to kiss her. Slow. Deliberate. Unhurried.
Rio exhaled into it, her shoulders finally sagging as if she’d been holding them tight for weeks. Her hands slid to Wanda’s waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her sleep shirt, grounding herself into her as the kiss deepened. When they pulled apart, Wanda pressed her forehead to Rio’s, nose brushing, their breaths mingling. “You don’t have to hold it together anymore,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
That was all it took to crumble the last of Rio’s defenses.
She kissed Wanda again, more urgently this time, backing her toward the bed. Wanda let herself be guided down onto the mattress, her hands never leaving Rio’s body. She tugged gently at Rio’s sweater, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside, then traced her palms over bare skin, warm and familiar.
Rio shivered under her wife’s reverent touch.
Wanda’s eyes shimmered, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she reached for Rio’s hands, guiding them down under the hem of her shirt, encouraging instead of demanding. Sensing her hesitation, “Keep your eyes on me,” she whispered.
They undressed each other slowly. Fabric peeled away inch by inch, and with it, all of Rio’s worries. They took it slow, savoring the reality of being together again. They had all night to relearn each other, after all.
Just as Rio was sucking on Wanda’s pulse point and soothing the itch with her tongue, Wanda hooked her leg behind Rio’s and flipped them over. Rio tried to get up, but Wanda pushed her back on the bed and climbed over her, bracing herself on either side, giving Rio time to look, to breathe, to choose. Her hair, now returning to its natural brunette, the only red that remained being the ends, cascaded over them, draping them into a cocoon of safety.
“Tonight is all about you,” Wanda whispered into Rio’s ear. “Let me show you how worthy you are,” before she kissed her again. She started by trailing soft kisses along her jaw, then she moved to her throat, where she lingered, basking in the way it vibrated with each moan Rio tried to suppress.
Rio’s hands slid up Wanda’s back, nails dragging lightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their bodies fit together like memory. Just as Wanda’s kisses trailed lower to the valley of her breasts, Rio spread her legs further, making her wife smirk against her chest. Getting the signal, Wanda moved her thigh between Rio’s legs and began to rock gently as her mouth worked diligently at her breasts.
Every touch was grounding, intentional, reminding Rio exactly where she belonged. She gave each breast the attention it deserved, her tongue circling each bud before releasing it with a pop, while her hand sneaked between the brunette’s thighs. Rio let out a broken sound, her head falling back against the pillow as she finally stopped trying to hold herself together. Wanda stayed with her through it, steady and present, murmuring soft reassurances against her skin, keeping her anchored in the moment.
When they finally came to rest, tangled together beneath the covers, Rio curled instinctively into Wanda’s side, her face tucked against her neck. Wanda wrapped an arm around her, taking one of Rio’s arms and draping it across her stomach, before her finger started tracing slow, soothing patterns along her spine.
They stayed like that, breathing in sync, until Rio’s body softened completely and the weight she carried loosened its grip. Only then did Wanda let herself fall into slumber.
The following morning, Rio woke up to laughter coming from the living room. She groaned at first, wishing she could have slept a bit longer. She turned to the other side, her arm reaching for her wife as if it were second nature. To her surprise, the sheets were already cold, meaning Wanda had been up for a while.
Tossing the covers aside, she looked at the window, and just as her wife predicted, the sun was waking up along with them, painting the sky in orange-pink hues. Rio tried to get out of bed, but her body ached in the best way, the remnants of last night seeped deep into her bones.
When she finally reached the land of the living, she was hit by the sweet aroma of hot cocoa and burning wood.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Wanda’s cheerful voice appeared behind her, handing her a steaming mug before planting a kiss on her cheek.
“I see you’ve already started the fire,” Rio remarked after a sip of cocoa, her voice losing the raspy edge as the warm beverage soothed her throat. “I thought that was my job.”
Before her insecurity could seep in again, Wanda intervened, “Tommy kept bugging me about how he wants to try and light it himself. I told him we should wait for you, but he was ready to come and wake you up. So… we compromised,” before guiding her to the living room, where the boys were already scanning the presents.
“They grow up so fast.” Rio let out a fake cry as she took a seat on the couch. Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on her wife’s lap.
For a moment, they just sat and watched as their boys tore their present paper, wrapping paper flying everywhere. Rio squeezed Wanda’s hip lightly, catching her attention. When their eyes met, Rio leaned over, catching her lips in a quick kiss before whispering, “I love you,” into her ear, her breath warm and ticklish. Wanda giggled.
After presents had been opened and the boys scattered around the house, trying on their new stuff, Wanda reached behind the couch, retrieving a small rectangular box. When Rio returned from the kitchen, cocoa mug refilled, she found Wanda fidgeting with it.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the box in her wife’s trembling hands. “The leather-bound journal you got me was more than enough.”
Wanda dropped the box into Rio’s lap. “This one, I think you’ll love even more,” she rambled, then quietly, “I hope so…”
Intrigued by her usually confident wife’s nerves, Rio began to unwrap the present while Wanda was watching her like a hawk. When she opened the lid, Wanda spoke again. “Last night…” her voice wavered. “Last night, you said you only take lives. But, Rio,” she reached for her hand, anchoring herself in her touch. “Oh, Rio. You do so much more.” By this point, tears were falling freely. “Against all odds, you gave me life… Three beautiful lives…”
Rio’s eyes widened at the number, her gaze dropping to the box in her lap, where she found a white stick staring back at her. The hand that wasn’t holding Wanda’s flew to her mouth as she tried to hold back a sob.
Rio didn’t speak at first.
She stared at the small white stick in her lap, at the way it seemed almost out of place among the scattered wrapping paper and half-empty mugs. For a long moment, she didn’t move at all, as if afraid that any sudden motion might shatter the fragile reality settling around her.
Three.
Her breath caught, a soft, broken sound slipping past her lips before she could stop it.
Wanda’s hand found hers, warm and steady. She didn’t rush. She didn’t fill the silence. She just stayed, thumb brushing slow circles against Rio’s knuckles, grounding her the same way she always did.
“I didn’t plan it like this,” Wanda whispered finally. “I just… knew I didn’t want to keep it from you. Not after last night.”
Rio let out a shaky laugh, pressing her forehead to Wanda’s. “You’re really bad at letting me stay broken,” she murmured.
Wanda smiled, tears slipping free. “Good.”
Carefully, reverently, Rio set the test aside and pulled Wanda into her arms. She held her there, breathing her in, the scent of cocoa and smoke and home filling her chest until the ache eased into something warmer.
The fire crackled. The boys’ laughter echoed faintly from the other room. Life went on—loud, messy, insistent.
Almost without realizing it, Rio’s hand settled over Wanda’s, over the quiet promise cradled there. The heaviness she carried didn’t vanish—but it warmed, like hands wrapped around a mug on a winter morning.
The tree lights blinked cheerfully in the corner, reds and golds dancing across the walls. The fire crackled, bright and alive. Somewhere down the hall, the boys laughed—too loud, too happy, exactly as they should be.
Christmas morning wrapped itself around them in warmth and noise and light. Cocoa steamed on the table. Wrapping paper littered the floor. Life carried on, vibrant and unafraid.
Rio looked at Wanda then—at the quiet certainty in her smile, at the future they were holding together—and felt something settle deep in her chest. No doubt. No fear.
Belonging.
She pressed her forehead to Wanda’s, her thumb brushing softly over her hand, over the place where something new had already begun. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Rio smiled without restraint.
This life wasn’t something she had to earn. It was something she was trusted with. And here, on Christmas morning, with warmth all around her, the love of her life in her arms, and new life waiting patiently to join them, that was more than enough.