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[25/12/2020 | Hahnwald Estate, Cologne | 08:45 CET]
The decision had been made quickly, without much drama. Rakim sat at the kitchen island with his phone to his ear, a mug of coffee cooling beside his elbow, while May leaned against the counter scrolling through the news. The headline confirming the extension of the COVID-19 travel ban to England until January 6th, 2021, was prominently displayed during the morning news broadcast.
"Yes, sir, it looks like we will have to postpone our trip to England until the following year." He said, his brows visibly frowning as he listened to the other end. "I would, but it’s not a good ti to beco a dia pariah for breaking the rules."
"Yes,"
"Aha, next year for sure, you can maybe co to one of my gas, or we can have dinner when we play in England." They talked for a good fifteen minutes, discussing logistics and future plans. "I had bought so Christmas gifts, and I had them shipped to your London address."
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"rry Christmas," he finally said, hanging up the phone.
"Well," May said eventually, locking her phone and setting it aside. "That answers that."
"Yeah. Didn’t feel right pushing it anyway." Rakim nodded, unsurprised. "Our drama just died down. If we get caught breaking lockdown rules, they will drag everything back up again. It’s stressful enough eting my bio parent, I don’t need that on top."
They exchanged a look—agreeing not to touch that topic. Christmas plans had been fluid for weeks, constantly adjusted around fixtures, restrictions, and uncertainty. Staying ho felt like the simplest option, and sohow the right one. No airports, no rushing, and most importantly, no stress.
"Ho Christmas it is," May said, lifting his mug and taking a sip before he could protest. "You don’t mind?"
He shook his head. "Not even a little."
The house was already alive. Since the Puskás ceremony, his family had stayed on, turning the estate into sothing warr, fuller. His mother’s voice drifted in from the living room, mid-conversation with Emma, their words overlapping the hum of the dishwasher and the soft crackle of the fireplace. Sowhere upstairs, Ben was on a call, dealing with so last-minute business, his voice low and steady.
Rakim pushed away from the island and stood, stretching. "Let’s celebrate our Christmas."
~~~
[14:30 | Living Room]
By mid-afternoon, the house had settled into its holiday rhythm—the winter light filtered in through the tall windows, casting long shapes across the hardwood floors. The Christmas tree stood proudly near the windows, decorated with white lights, a mix of ornants collected over the years, and a few personal touches. Wrapped gifts were stacked neatly beneath it, their edges sharp, ribbons still perfectly tied.
Rakim sat cross-legged on the floor beside May, his back resting against the couch. She leaned lightly into his shoulder, absently playing with the sleeve of his hoodie as they waited for everyone to gather. Emma was already there, perched on the armchair with her legs tucked beneath her, phone face down for once. Lisa hovered nearby, insisting—again—that no one touch anything until everyone was present.
Ben appeared last, walking in from the hallway with a mug in hand. "Alright," he said, surveying the room. "I think we’re officially all here."
Lisa clasped her hands together. "Good. Then we can start."
They began with the smaller gifts, passing them around one by one. Emma went first, tearing into a dium-sized box with characteristic enthusiasm. She pulled out a sleek leather handbag, her eyes widening. "Mum, this is gorgeous."
"Thought you could use a new one for university," Lisa said, pleased.
Emma imdiately tried it on, modelling it dramatically for the room. "How do I look?"
"Definitely you," May replied, taking out he phone to take pictures as if it were a photo shoot.
Ben unwrapped a new watch—simple, elegant, with a dark leather band. He held it up to the light, examining it with the careful attention he gave to most things. "This is nice. Really nice. Thank you."
Lisa received a photo book next, carefully bound with a dark blue cover. She opened it slowly, her expression softening as she flipped through the pages. Photos from over the years—them as children, family vacations, candid monts at birthday parties, Emma’s graduation. Her hand went to her mouth. "Rakim..."
"Thought you’d like it," he said quietly.
"I love it." Her voice cracked slightly, and she continued looking through the album, smiling brightly at the mories it stirred.
May opened hers next—a small velvet box handed to her by Lisa. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple yet elegant, with a small star-shaped charm. She laughed quietly, surprised. "You rembered."
"Of course I did," Lisa replied.
"I love it. Thank you." May fastened it around her wrist imdiately, admiring how it caught the light.
Rakim opened his next, lifting the lid to reveal a silver watch. He turned it over in his hands, appreciating the weight of it. "This is perfect."
Emma nudged him with her foot from across the room. "You say that about everything."
"Because I an it," he shot back, grinning.
The room filled with the soft sound of paper tearing, the occasional laugh, and murmured thanks. No one rushed; they handled each gift carefully and appreciated it with gratitude. May handed Rakim a small box last, watching his face closely as he opened it.
He paused when he saw what was inside, then looked up at her. "You made it yourself."
"mmh, so you can’t hate it," she said lightly, though her eyes watched him carefully.
He lifted the small green bottle and sprayed a small amount onto his wrist. He lifted his wrist, breathing it in slowly, the scent was subtle but warm—vanilla first, then sothing spicier beneath it, grounding the fragrance. The fragrance wasn’t as strong as so other perfus he’s had in the past, but it lingered in his senses.
"It slls a little like you," he said after a mont, voice low.
May laughed softly. "That was the idea."
He nodded once, then leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to her temple. "I love it."
"Good," she said, visibly relieved.
The gift opening continued, unhurried and relaxed. Emma received a new handbag and a new laptop for uni from their parents. Lisa opened a photo book Rakim had put together of their years as a family, containing all the good, embarrassing, and fun monts. By the ti the last ribbon was untied and the paper gathered into neat piles, the afternoon light had shifted. Outside, the sky had taken on that pale winter hue, the sun already sinking low despite the early hour.
"Alright," Ben said, standing and stretching his arms overhead. "Dinner prep."
Lisa was already halfway to the kitchen. "I started hours ago."
The rest of the house gradually migrated that way, the warmth of the kitchen pulling them in. Pots simred on the stove, filling the space with layered scents—roasted at, herbs, sothing sweet baking slowly in the oven. The counters were lined with dishes in various stages of completion, a blend of traditions that had co together naturally over the years.
~~~
Dinner was served just as the darkness fully settled outside. They gathered around the long dining table, candles flickering softly between plates. The al was generous but not excessive—roast at at the centre, accompanied by traditional German sides, alongside a few familiar Arican dishes that had beco staples in their household celebrations.
Conversation flowed easily. No one talked about football. No one spoke about awards. Instead, they talked about small things—plans for the new year, films they wanted to watch, stories from past holidays that had grown funnier with repetition. At one point, Ben, at the head of the table, raised his glass, gathering everyone’s attention. "To staying Healthy," He said. "And the light at the end of the tunnel."
"I’ll drink to that," Emma replied, lifting hers in excitent. They all raised their glasses, the soft clink of crystal filling the silence before they drank.
After dinner, they moved back to the living room. The fireplace crackled softly, and Emma had already queued up Ho Alone on the TV. It was a tradition that had started years ago, back when Rakim had been adopted and spent his first year with the Rex’s, and sohow it had stuck.
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To Be Continued...
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