Chapter 9 - New Year’s Eve Resolution
New Year’s Eve arrived with a blanket of crisp, white snow covering Chicago. Inside our home, the atmosphere was warm, cozy, and filled with the gentle hum of pure happiness.
Evan had strung up soft fairy lights across the living room shelves. We had ordered our favorite gourmet takeout, poured sparkling cider into crystal flutes, and dressed Lily in a soft, cream-colored cotton romper that allowed her to crawl and explore freely without any itchy velvet constraints.
At eight months old, Lily was discovering the magic of the world around her. She crawled across the living room rug with lightning speed, pulling herself up by the coffee table and letting out triumphant squeals of laughter.
"Look at her go," Evan laughed, sitting on the floor and catching her just as she wobbled backward into his lap. "Future CEO of Vance Capital, right there."
I smiled, sitting down beside them and wrapping my arms around both of my favorite people in the world. "She’s going to be whoever she wants to be. And nobody will ever make her feel small."
At ten o’clock, right as we were getting ready to put Lily down for her bedtime routine, there was a soft, hesitant knock at our front door.
Evan and I exchanged a questioning glance. We weren't expecting any deliveries.
Evan walked to the door and peered through the peephole. A moment later, he looked back at me, his expression a mix of surprise and caution. "It’s Jenna."
Evan opened the door. Jenna stood on the porch, her cheeks flushed red from the cold, holding a small, plain white envelope in her trembling hands. She wasn't wearing her usual immaculate winter coat; she looked like she had rushed straight over without even thinking.
"Jenna? What's wrong?" I asked immediately, stepping toward the entryway.
"Nothing’s wrong, Maya. At least... not in the way you think," Jenna said softly, stepping inside and brushing the snowflakes off her shoulders. She looked at me, her eyes shimmering with unspeakable emotion. "I shouldn't even be here. Mom told me not to come. But I couldn't spend New Year’s Eve watching her sit alone in that giant, empty house pretending nothing happened."
She reached out and handed me the white envelope. "Mom asked me to give this to you before midnight. She said... she said you didn't have to open it tonight if you didn't want to. But she wanted you to have it."
I looked down at the envelope. My name was written across the front in my mother’s familiar, elegant cursive—not typed, not formal, just handwritten.
"Did she tell you what's inside?" I asked cautiously.
May you like
Jenna shook her head. "No. But for the first time... she wasn't angry when she gave it to me, Maya. She was just... quiet. She looked old. And for the first time in my life, I think she finally realized that her opinions don't rule the world."
I took a deep breath, broke the seal of the envelope, and unfolded the single sheet of heavy paper inside.
