My daughter opened her gift, an empty box. My father laughed..

When she got to Frank, she paused for just a second, long enough that I held my breath. But she smiled, lifted the envelope and said, Merry Christmas, Grandpa. He didn’t look up from the television, just held out a hand like she was delivering the mail, not offering a piece of herself.

She moved back to the couch and sat beside me. Her face was still lit up, hopeful. She had no idea how cold the room had gotten.

Then Frank picked up a large box from beneath the tree. It was wrapped in silver paper, topped with a red bow, almost too neatly. He held it out toward Kaia with a grunt.

Her eyes widened. For me? He shrugged. Says your name, doesn’t it? She looked at me first, like she needed permission.

I nodded, even though something in my gut twisted. She scooted to the floor and pulled the box into her lap. Her small hands ran over the paper like it was sacred.

I watched her savor every moment, the untaping of each edge, the careful unfolding. She wanted to remember it. Then the lid came off.

She peered inside, and I saw it happen. The exact second she realized it was empty. Her face didn’t crumple, not right away.

Instead, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. She reached in, as if something might be stuck at the bottom. She looked up at me, uncertain.

There was nothing in the box. Nothing. Frank laughed, loudly this time.

What, you were expecting something real? He scoffed, leaning back. World doesn’t give you gifts for just showing up, kid. Kaia blinked.

Her hands froze. I couldn’t move. Then Sandra, always waiting for a moment to cut deeper, chimed in from her corner of the couch.

Well, she is just like her mom, always expecting people to hand her things. It’s no surprise. I felt it in my chest, like a punch.

I turned to her. Sandra, don’t. She raised a brow, smirking.

What? It’s true. Kaia was silent now. The box still rested in her lap, flaps wide open, exposing the nothing inside.

The room had turned on her, and I saw her realize it. I hated them. I hated them for making her feel small…