Chapter Text
Rio woke up slowly on Christmas morning and her first awareness was heat in the form of the blissful heat of Agatha’s body curved around her own. The second was safety like a bone-level feeling she had never known in her childhood, and rarely even as an adult.
And the third was happiness.
Agatha’s arms were loosely wrapped around her waist, their legs tangled under the thick duvet, and Rio felt herself melt into the hold without a second thought. She snuggled back instinctively, tucking herself even closer until her back was fully flush with Agatha’s chest. Agatha shifted in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent, and tightened her embrace as though she’d been waiting for Rio to move. Rio turned her head around and hid her face in Agatha’s hair on the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent of warm skin, floral shampoo and whatever expensive product Agatha used that always made Rio dizzy in the best way.
It felt perfect. More than perfect. Almost unreal.
They hadn’t said I love you yet (the words had fluttered at the edge of Rio’s tongue more than once over the past week, and she suspected Agatha felt the same) but moments like this made the unsaid truth glow quietly between them.
This. God. This felt a lot like love.
Slowly, Agtha stirred. Rio felt it in the instinctive tightening of her arms around Rio’s waist as if her body refused to start the day without her.
“Mm,” Agatha mumbled, her voice rough and soft with sleep. “Good morning.”
Rio smiled, warm all over. She turned in Agatha’s arms so she could face her, their foreheads brushing. “Good morning,” Rio whispered. “And… merry Christmas again.”
Agatha’s eyes, even if barely open, crinkled in a smile. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered back, still soaked in sleep.
They lay like that for a long while, kissing softly, morning breath and all, then simply staying close, breathing the same air, touching gently.
Eventually, Rio lifted her head to look fully at her girlfriend… and snorted. Then she absolutely lost it.
Agatha blinked, confused. “What?” she murmured. “What’s so—”
Rio pointed at her, wheezing. “You’re… you’re wearing… the shirt! That’s what you put on after basically worshipping me and my body all night long?? You’re such a fan, it’s almost embarrassing.”
Agatha looked down at herself and started laughing too. “Shut up, Vidal.”
Because indeed—Agatha Harkness, world-renowned graphic designer, queen of elegance, pillar of sophistication—was wearing the T-shirt Rio had given her as a gift the night before.
The one with Rio’s face printed on the front. Tournament photo. Full intensity. Full dramatic posture. Chess queen mode.
On Agatha’s chest.
Agatha smiled. “What can I say?” she teased, pushing a strand of hair from Rio’s forehead. “I love having two Rios in my bed.”
Rio snorted into her pillow. “Kinky.”
Agatha laughed and pulled Rio back down to kiss her again, sending Rio’s heart flipping headfirst into her ribs. “Who wouldn’t want two of you?”
They snuggled like that for several more minutes, letting the morning stretch lazily around them, until a sudden sound broke through the quiet. A clatter from the kitchen. Then another. Then the whirr of a mixer. Then the smell drifting straight toward the bedroom.
Rio sniffed the air, eyes wide. “Is that… pancakes? Waffles?”
Agatha laughed, sitting up slowly. “Nicky’s awake.”
“And cooking unsupervised,” Rio added. “Should we be worried?”
“No, I raised him well,” Agatha replied instantly, sliding out of bed. “But also yes. Let’s go.”
They got up, moving around the room with the easy rhythm they were already developing together. Agatha bent to retrieve her pajama pants, and Rio admired the view shamelessly. Agatha caught her staring and gave her a playful wink that nearly sent Rio right back into bed to resume their midnight activities.
But breakfast—and Nicky—awaited.
So much for trying to jump your girlfriend on Christmas morning.
Agatha threw Rio a pair of spare pajama pants she kept in the drawer for exactly this reason and tightened the drawstrings of her own.
Then hand in hand, like the disgustingly cute couple they were, they walked toward the kitchen. Nicky was indeed already there. Covered in waffle batter. There was flour on the counter, flour on the floor, flour on Nicky’s cheek. The waffle iron was heating, mixing bowls everywhere, and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled the whole penthouse.
He turned around proudly, holding a whisk that dripped batter onto the floor. “Merry Christmas—oh. Uh. You guys are holding hands. I don’t wanna know.”
Rio smirked. “Good observation, detective.”
Agatha ignored the teasing and bent to kiss the top of her son’s head. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Nicky hugged her carefully, trying to avoid smearing batter all over the shirt with Rio’s face on it. “You’re wearing the shirt! Oh my god!”
Rio crossed her arms, huffing jokingly. “I can’t believe you’re more excited about her wearing my face than my actual face being in the room.”
Nicky laughed and moved to hug her too. Rio opened an arm. “Come here, you adorable little menace.”
He hugged her tightly, and only after did Rio notice batter was now smeared on her pajama pants. “Worth it,” she declared. “They’re not mine anyway”
Agatha shook her head affectionatively. “Okay, darlings. Let’s finish breakfast before this kitchen turns into a biohazard.”
All three of them got to work: reheating the waffle iron, pouring batter, flipping waffles, dusting powdered sugar (too enthusiastically, in Nicky’s case), and preparing steaming mugs of festive hot chocolate. Rio complained about the waffle iron hating her. Nicky accused Rio of burning the first waffle (“I didn’t!” “You absolutely did!”). Agatha teased them both for being children. Rio bet she could eat more waffles than Nicky. Nicky said she could try but she’d lose because he was a self-proclaimed bottomless pit. Agatha rolled her eyes but secretly loved every second of it.
It was silly. It was chaotic. It was domestic. It was perfect.
They all settled around the kitchen counter with their plates piled high with waffles and their mugs of steaming hot chocolate. Rio sat between Agatha and Nicky, still a little overwhelmed by how right everything felt.
“You know,” Rio said to Nicky as he attempted to drown his waffles in syrup. “At some point it stops being waffles and becomes syrup with a side of waffle.”
“It’s Christmas,” Nicky countered, grinning as he poured away. “Sugar intake doesn’t count until tomorrow.”
Rio made a skeptical face. “That sounds like something people say right before regretting life choices.”
Agatha nudged Rio’s hip with her knee under the counter. “Says the girl who ate half a box of gingerbread cookies in bed last night.”
Rio lifted her chin indignantly. “That was emotional support gingerbread.” Then she leaned towards Agatha and lowered her voice so low that Agatha had to strain to hear. “Not the only cookie I ate in bed last night, by the way.”
Agatha snorted and batted her away with her hand and slightly rosier cheeks.
They chatted lightly while they ate, but Rio eventually grew curious. “So… what do you two usually do on Christmas Day?” she asked, cutting into her waffle.
Agatha swallowed a bite before answering. “Well, after breakfast we usually get dressed and walk to Central Park. It’s a little tradition we started years ago. Even when it snows we go. It’s actually prettiest then.”
Nicky nodded. “Yeah! And then we eat lunch at this tiny restaurant near the south end of the park. They do this gingerbread crème brûlée during the holidays that Mama dreams about all year.”
Agatha pointed her fork at him. “That’s slander. I don’t dream about it.”
“You literally mentioned it twice last week,” Nicky reminded her.
Rio giggled. Agatha narrowed her eyes at both of them but lacked any real menace.
“And after that,” Agatha continued, “we come home, stay on the couch, watch Christmas movies, and eat absolute garbage until dinner.”
Rio stared at them. “That’s… kind of perfect.”
“It is,” Agatha agreed softly, giving Rio a small smile.
Nicky leaned forward eagerly. “What about you, Rio? What do you usually do on Christmas Day?”
Rio’s expression turned tender. “Every year,” she said slowly, “Lilia and I go to the group home where I grew up. We spend the whole day there. Lilia brings several chess sets, and we teach the kids little lessons and play matches with them. And we talk with the sisters who run the place. It’s… always a good day. I really like doing it with her.”
Agatha reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing Rio’s arm. “That’s beautiful,” she said, and she wasn’t performing. She meant it. “It’s really touching that you still go. And that Lilia goes with you every year.”
Nicky nodded. “That’s really cool.”
Rio shrugged, suddenly bashful. “It’s important to me.”
Nicky’s brows furrowed, as if he were working through some idea. He bit his lip, thought a second longer, then finally looked up at Rio. “Do you think…” He hesitated. “Do you think maybe me and Mama could come with you this year?”
Agatha’s head whipped toward him. “Nicky—sweetheart, maybe that’s something Rio and Lilia like doing alone. We shouldn’t invite ourselves or overstep if Rio doesn’t want to share that yet—”
But Rio wasn’t looking at Agatha. She was staring at Nicky, eyes wide, lips parted slightly in surprise.
Nicky hurried to clarify. “I mean—only if you want! I just… it sounds like a really good thing to be part of. And I’d like to see where you grew up.”
“You… really want to do that with me?”
Nicky nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
Agatha looked at Rio again, and the moment she saw her girlfriend’s face, she rose from her seat. Gently, she stepped behind Rio, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder.
“Rio,” she murmured into her ear. “If that’s something you want to share with us, we would be more than happy to come. Truly. But we’d also understand if you didn’t.”
Rio placed her hand over Agatha’s forearm. “I… I’d love for you both to come.” Her voice wavered, but in the happiest way. “I’d love to show you where I grew up. People always think group homes are like the ones in movies, like sad and grey and awful. But mine wasn’t. It was actually… good. The kids were great. The sisters were kind. Sure, it was hard sometimes but… I was happy there.”
Agatha tightened her embrace, lowering a soft kiss on Rio’s cheek. “Then it’s settled. Maybe it can even become a new Christmas tradition for us all.”
Rio brushed a quick tear away, hoping neither of them had noticed, though she knew they had. “Lilia will be so happy to see you too,” she whispered.
“It’s going to be the best Christmas,” Nickcy said confidently.
Rio laughed breathlessly. “It already is.”
By mid-morning, they had all piled into Agatha’s car with their coats, scarves, boxed pastries Agatha insisted on bringing, and, in Nicky’s case, a chessboard balanced on his knees because he claimed it made him “look official” and he wanted to contribute. The city glowed under a pale winter sun, the streets busier now that Christmas morning was fully awake. Nicky chattered in the backseat, narrating everything they passed, from the decorations on Fifth Avenue, a man dressed as Santa biking down the street, to a dog wearing reindeer antlers. Agatha nodded along with half an ear, smiling, while her real attention lingered on the warmth radiating from the passenger seat. Rio sat sideways a little, knees angled toward Agatha, cheeks pink from the cold and hair still slightly mussed from bed.
The light turned red at an intersection near the park, and Agatha pressed the brake gently. For a moment, the car settled into a small pocket of calm amidst the Christmas bustle. She glanced sideways again, and something occurred to her.
“Rio?” Agatha asked quietly.
Rio turned her head. “Yeah?”
Agatha hesitated, not really out of fear but because she didn’t want to step wrong on a day that already felt important. “Can I ask you something slightly personal?”
Rio raised an eyebrow, amused. “Slightly? When have you ever asked me anything slightly personal?”
Agatha huffed a laugh. “Okay, very personal. But… I’ve been thinking.” She paused, choosing her words with care. “Your group home was run by nuns, right?”
Rio grinned immediately. “Ohhh, I know where this is going.”
Agatha made a face. “Don’t tease me—I’m trying to be delicate here.”
Rio wriggled happily in her seat. “Go on.”
“So…” Agatha exhaled slowly. “If the nuns raised you—and they’re nuns—does that mean you… grew up in a religious environment?”
“Yes,” Rio answered, still smiling. “Catholic.”
Agatha nodded as if confirming a theory. She looked forward at the road, then back to Rio. “Right. Okay. And… do they know you’re a lesbian? That you’re… with a woman?”
Rio’s smile widened. “Agatha. Darling. Do you really think I’d take you and Nicky somewhere you’d have to pretend we’re just very good roommates?”
Agatha snorted, relief loosening her shoulders. “I don’t know! I was just thinking—we don’t want to cause a scene today. Especially on Christmas.”
“Since when have I ever been shy about my sexuality?” Rio asked, grinning proudly.
Agatha laughed, shaking her head. “Point taken.”
But Rio’s grin gradually softened into something gentler. She adjusted herself in the seat, turning more fully toward Agatha. “But seriously,” she said. “Yes. They know.” She looked thoughtful. “And yeah, religion as a whole isn’t exactly the ‘yay gay’ club. But my nuns were… different.”
“How so?”
“They were cool nuns,” Rio said simply. “Kind. Really kind. They wanted the best for us, always. Even when things were hard.” She sighed softly. “Finding out I liked girls wasn’t easy for me, and it wasn’t easy for them either—not at first. But they never made me feel dirty or wrong. They never punished me for it. They didn’t encourage it either, but they didn’t condemn it. They just… loved me anyway.”
Agatha blinked, taken aback. “That’s… honestly surprising.”
Rio tilted her head. “Why?”
“Well…” Agatha hesitated. “I grew up with religion too. And… my family wasn’t like that.” Her jaw tightened just a little. “Acceptance wasn’t exactly part of the package. When I stopped fitting the mold they wanted… they didn’t bend. They just shut the door.”
Rio’s face fell in sympathy. “Agatha…”
But Agatha shook her head, offering a small smile. “It’s all right. I don’t miss them.” She breathed out. “But I’m glad that your experience wasn’t like mine. That you weren’t made to feel ashamed for something that isn’t shameful.”
Rio reached over and took Agatha’s hand, tracing her thumb along the back of it. “I was lucky,” she said softly. “I really was.”
Agatha’s fingers curled around hers, squeezing gently. The light turned green, but she didn’t move until the car behind them honked lightly. She startled and pressed the gas, rolling forward through the intersection.
“So we’re okay to be… us?” Agatha asked, checking the mirrors.
Rio laughed, leaning her head back against the seat. “Agatha, we’re always okay to be us. The sisters won’t care. They’ve met Lilia’s past flings plenty of times too—trust me, you’re not going to shock them.”
Agatha blinked. “Lilia has had ‘flings’?”
“You really need to come to more Academy events. The stories I could tell you.”
Agatha laughed out loud. “Oh God.”
“And if anyone does say something rude,” Rio added breezily, “well, they’ll have to face my wrath.”
“Your wrath,” Agatha repeated, amused.
“Yes. My terrifying wrath.” Rio lifted her chin. “It’s very scary. Just ask Nicky.”
“I’ve seen scarier pigeons,” Nicky called from the back, not looking up from his chessboard.
Rio twisted in her seat, outraged. “Traitor!”
As they moved on, Agatha kept Rio’s hand in hers as long as she could while driving, their fingers intertwined on the center console.
They drove north, toward the quieter streets where Rio’s old group home sat tucked away from the noise of midtown. Rio looked out the window, smiling softly at the familiar route, heart swelling at the thought that this year, she wasn’t returning alone.
They arrived in front at their destination just as the late morning sun slid between the winter-bare branches lining the quiet street. The building stood exactly as Rio remembered it: four stories of warm beige brick, windows neatly washed, the front steps swept clean of snow except for a thin dusting that sparkled under the light. It wasn’t fancy, not even a little, but it was well cared for. Agatha parked the car along the curb, cut the engine, and turned toward the building with a contemplative look, as if already trying to imagine what Rio’s childhood here had looked like. Rio watched it too for a second before she opened her door and stepped into the cold. Nicky hopped out of the backseat, his breath forming little clouds in the cold air. Agatha rounded the car to join them, tucking her scarf more snugly around her neck as she looked up at the group home with a curious smile.
But before any of them could take a step toward the entrance, someone waved enthusiastically from the top of the stairs. Lilia stood on the front step, a massive bag slung over her shoulder—clearly filled with chess sets, snacks, and who knew what else Lilia found necessary for a Christmas visit. The moment Rio spotted her, she lit up.
“Lilia!” Rio called, already bounding toward the steps two at a time.
“Ah, my darling girl!” Lilia exclaimed, opening her arms wide.
Rio practically crashed into her mentor’s embrace, and Lilia kissed her on both cheeks with the entousiasm of a Sicilian matriarch. “Buon Natale, tesoro. Merry Christmas, my little devil.”
Rio’s grin nearly split her face. “Merry Christmas, Lilia.”
Agatha and Nicky joined them, walking up the steps in a little cluster of warmth against the cold. Lilia turned to them next, her smile stretching even wider.
“Agatha, darling!” she greeted, kissing her cheeks as well, somehow managing to make Agatha blush like a teenager despite being a grown woman. Then she looked at Nicky. “And my future champion! Merry Christmas to you too, Nicholas!”
“Merry Christmas, Miss Lilia!”
They had barely finished their greetings when the door behind them creaked open. A sliver of warm air slipped out, followed by a soft voice.
“I thought I heard something,” the newly-arriveed woman said. “I was hoping it might be you.”
Rio beamed. “Sister Marianne!”
The nun stepped out fully, the winter light highlighting her kind and deeply lined face. She wasn’t wearing a habit—not anymore, not for years—but a simple long skirt and a soft grey cardigan over a white blouse. Her white hair was pulled back, and her eyes shone with fondness the moment they landed on Rio.
“Come here, child,” Sister Marianne said, arms already open.
Rio stepped forward without hesitation and hugged her, mindful of her age, but full of warmth all the same.
“You look bright as ever,” Sister Marianne murmured. “A little taller. A little happier.”
Rio laughed softly. “Definitely not taller. But definitely happier.”
“I can see that,” the old nun said, patting her cheek.
Lilia greeted her next like two old friends recognizing each other instantly. “Marianne, you look wonderful, truly. Still out here herding children like kittens?”
“And you,” Sister Marianne replied warmly. “I see you still dress like a rainbow ran through your closet.”
Lilia cackled. “Of course I do.”
Then Rio turned, placing a gentle hand on Agatha’s back and nudging her forward with an encouraging look. Agatha swallowed, still a bit uncertain despite everything Rio had told her, and offered her hand politely.
“Sister Marianne,” Rio said. “This is Agatha. And this is her son Nicky. They’re… really important to me.”
The nun’s face melted into a smile that could’ve warmed a glacier. She didn’t shake Agatha’s hand. Instead, she clasped it between her palms.
“Welcome,” she said. “Welcome both of you. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Agatha blinked, momentarily disarmed by the sincerity in her tone. “Thank you, Sister. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Nicky added shyly.
Sister Marianne’s eyes twinkled as she looked between them, reading far more than Rio had said aloud. “Anyone important to Rio,” she said gently, “is important to me.”
Agatha felt her throat tighten a little, surprised by how much those words affected her.
And then—because the woman was perceptive in the way only someone who had raised dozens of children could be--she turned to Agatha with a softened expression.
“My dear,” she said warmly, “I know the title might be scary to some people, but the God I believe in is a God of love. All kinds. All shapes. All forms.” She spread her arms slightly, as if the very air around them should feel included. “And today, of all days, is about celebrating that love, whether it be family, friendship, companionship or every bond that makes life kinder. You and your family are very welcome here.”
Agatha exhaled, some tiny remaining knot inside her finally loosening. “Thank you,” she whispered. Rio’s hand found hers, all proud and grateful.
Sister Marianne smiled lightly. “Well then! Enough standing out in the cold. There are children inside already trying to open presents early, and I’m sure Lilia has brought half a chess academy in that bag of hers.”
Lilia flicked the colossal bag with her fingers. “Just the essentials.”
The nun laughed and ushered her inside. “Come, come! Before we all freeze solid.”
Nicky darted through the doorway, eager to see everything. Lilia followed with Sister Marianne, falling easily back into a conversation about how many children were currently living in the home and what mischief they had gotten into lately.
Rio lingered for a moment on the steps, tugging gently on Agatha’s hand. Agatha turned to her, cheeks pink from the cold. Rio leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Agatha said, smiling. “More than okay.”
Rio squeezed her hand once more. “Good. Come on then.”
They stepped forward together, crossing the threshold and the warm air of the group home enveloped them. Once they stepped fully inside, Agatha was immediately struck by how welcoming the place felt. It wasn’t fancy nor was it especially modern. The floors were a little worn from decades of little feet running across them, the paint on the walls was slightly faded in places, and the furniture looked mismatched, clearly donated over the years.
But it felt like a home. It felt like a place where someone had laughed, cried, grown, learned and loved.
Agatha let her eyes travel over everything. The walls were absolutely covered in children’s drawings, some framed proudly, some taped a little crookedly, some clearly works of chaotic geniuses. There were paper snowflakes, stars, and uneven garlands cut out of construction paper. On a small bulletin board, Agatha noticed a collage of photos, and even from where she stood she spotted tiny versions of kids smiling, blowing out birthday candles, and playing in the garden outside.
Children’s voices echoed even from the little lobby, a shouted “Merry Christmas!” from somewhere down the hall, the sound of crayons being pulled out of a plastic box and clattering on the floor.
“This is where I grew up,” Rio said quietly, almost shyly.
Agatha felt an emotion so tender it bordered on painful rise in her chest. She squeezed Rio’s hand. Then, overwhelmed by a sudden image of a tiny, scrappy six-year-old Rio racing across these floors, she stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Rio’s temple. Rio’s eyes fluttered for a second and then she led Agatha down the hall, following the sound of excited chatter coming from the common room. They passed a doorway decorated with glittery cut-out stars. Another had a sign that said LIBRARY in bold block letters made by children. Everything felt lovingly handmade, as if the whole building was wrapped in the kids’ fingerprints.
By the time they reached the common room, the noise magnified tenfold. All the kids were already there. Maybe fifteen of them in total. Some were very small children barely old enough to hold a crayon. Others were teenagers, lounging on the sagging couches with a familiarity that told Agatha they’d grown up here too. A couple older kids were helping a nun set up a little table of activities like some coloring pages, a few board games, probably something messy like glitter glue waiting to cause chaos.
As soon as Rio stepped through the doorway, two things happened almost simultaneously.
First, a chorus of “RIOOOO!” erupted from various parts of the room. Second, several tiny children launched themselves at her.
Rio she bent down, scooping two of the smallest ones into her arms. She spun them around once, making them squeal with laughter. An older kid playfully smacked her shoulder, another teased her about being “late again,” and a teenage girl hugged her tightly, whispering a rapid “Merry Christmas.”
Agatha watched the whole scene with a soft smile. There was something kinda beautiful about seeing her girlfriend like this, about seeing the way Rio’s face lit up, the way she switched seamlessly from teasing the teenagers to comforting a toddler who had tripped, the way the kids clung to her like she was their sun.
Nicky came to stand beside Agatha, who slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “She’s amazing,” he said quietly, eyes wide.
“She really is,” Agatha whispered, unable to look away.
After a moment, Rio looked up, cheeks already flushed from being tackled and led the kids in a whirlwind tour of introductions. “Everyone, this is Agatha,” she announced with a proud smile that made Agatha’s heart pirouette. “And this is Nicky.”
The kids all waved or said hello in a messy chorus. Agatha waved back. One of the teenage girls immediately grabbed Nicky’s sleeve. “You wanna help us? We’re setting up a puppet show for the little ones for later!”
Nicky’s eyes lit up like the Christmas lights. “Yeah!”
He turned back to Agatha and Rio long enough to give a little wave before disappearing with the older kids, already absorbed in whatever fun they were preparing.
Agatha laughed softly. “Well, he’s settled.”
Rio grinned. “This place does that to you.”
Before Agatha could reply, she felt a tug on her pant leg. She looked down and saw a tiny girl—maybe five years old—with fluffy braids and a determined expression staring up at her.
“Are you Miss Rio’s wife?” the little girl asked loudly and with total innocence.
Agatha froze. And not metaphorically. Fully, physically froze.
A choking noise escaped her throat as she tried to process the question. Her face went bright, burning red, spreading fast across her cheeks. “Oh—uh—I—well—”
They hadn’t even said I love you yet.
Wife was… several emotional universes away.
Rio moved fast, looking equally flustered. “Oh! Charlotte—hey, sweetheart.” She crouched down to the girl’s height. “Agatha’s my girlfriend. That’s not exactly the same as being wives.”
Charlotte blinked at her, processing. Then she shrugged, apparently entirely unbothered, and immediately lost interest, skipping back to her coloring page and humming as if she hadn’t just verbally drop-kicked two adults.
Agatha burst into relieved laughter, trying to steady her wildly flustered heart. “Oh my God,” she whispered to Rio, “I thought I was going to pass out.”
Rio laughed too. “Me too. I think I had a full-body panic attack for a second.”
They exchanged a look, one that was still a little panicked, now more amused, completely fond.
“Come on,” Rio said softly. “Let me show you the rest.”
But before they could properly tour the room, Sister Marianne walked back in with her hands clasped before her followed by Lilia who bore a slightly mischievous smile she reserved for children, as though she was secretly one of them. Without preamble, Sister Marianne announced, “All right, my little Christmas angels! Who wants to play chess?”
At least half the kids rocketed their hands into the air. A few of the little ones squealed, bouncing in place. The teenagers pretended to be cool about it, but they rose their hands too, albeit in the lukewarm manner of adolescents who wanted to appear unfazed but were internally screaming with joy.
Rio groaned under her breath. “You created monsters,” she said to Sister Marianne.
“No,” Sister Marianne corrected, tapping Rio’s shoulder with motherly affection. “You did.”
Lilia beamed, already hoisting her enormous bag onto a nearby table. “Chessboards for everyone!” she declared. She unzipped the bag, plunged both arms inside like Mary Poppins and started pulling out chess sets like a magician producing rabbits. Wooden boards, roll-up vinyl boards, and even a special board with red-and-black pieces that the kids gasped at. It was a whole production. Like every single year.
Rio rushed over to help her. “Give me the heavy ones,” she said, already grabbing two boards at once and weaving between tables.
“Since when have you been caring enough to carry the heavy ones?” Lilia teased.
“Since I decided your back should make it to a four hundred and fifty years old.”
“Bah. My back is Sicilian. It will outlive you.”
The kids snickered and swarmed around them, tiny hands grabbing pieces, little voices calling Rio’s name from all directions, asking for help setting their pieces up.
Agatha watched from near the bookshelf, leaning lightly against the wall. It still caught her off guard sometimes, how different Rio was with her students. All relentless energy, quick silliness and exaggerated expressions, things Agatha didn’t see in her to this extent unless she came to visit the Academy to pick up Nicky. But here, surrounded by the kids she grew up with, that soft protective side of her was shining more than ever.
Rio knelt to help a small boy set up his board. “No, no, no, that’s not your queen. That’s your bishop. Unless your queen has decided to shave her head?”
The boy giggled. “Maybe she wanted to.”
“Fair,” Rio nodded. “But today, she keeps her crown.”
At another table, Lilia patted a teenager’s shoulder. “Yes, exactly. Think about controlling the center. You see? Your knight belongs there. A knight wants space, like me in my kitchen.”
“You mean like you in my kitchen,” Rio mutters.
“You criticized my pesto,” Lilia huffs, “No more you in a kitchen with me.”
The room felt alive with chatter and laughter and the clinking of chess pieces and the faint Christmas music the older kids must have convinced someone to put on the old speakers. The scent of pine from the decorated tree in the corner blended with something baking in the kitchen down the hall and Agatha couldn’t help but breathe a little deeper.
Nicky reappeared, flanked by two older teens who seemed to have adopted him as their apprentice. He spotted Agatha first and waved, then gravitated toward an empty table near the windows. The teens set up the pieces for him, but Nicky quickly shooed their hands away with polite confidence. “I know how to do it.” They grinned and let him take over.
Agatha smiled. He looked so grown all of a sudden. Not an adult (no, never that, he was still only thirteen, and he was her baby) but confident in a way he hadn’t been a year ago.
“Who wants to play against me?” Rio called out suddenly.
A chorus of “ME!” exploded across the room.
Rio put a hand to her chest. “I am honored by your confidence. Unfortunately, I am only one woman.” She paused. “But I am willing to humiliate at least two of you at once. Maybe three.”
The kids howled with laughter.
“Arrogant!” Sister Marianne called from across the room, chuckling.
“Rude,” an older boy said, grinning.
“Just honest,” Rio replied, flipping her hair. “Now come on.”
Two eager children sat with her. She started a blitz demonstration, making moves in rapid-fire, pausing only to tease them. “Oh no! My knight! You killed him. Heartless. Cold. I like it.”
Agatha smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. This was the world that had made Rio. Not just the competition, not just the raw ambition. This warmth. These people. These kids who screamed her name when she walked into the room.
Agatha glanced at Nicky. He was now playing a serious-looking teenager with long braids who seemed determined to test him. Nicky, for his part, was frowning at the board with an intensity that mirrored Rio’s. Every so often, he looked up aas if searching for someone, and Rio, across the room, gave him a tiny encouraging thumbs-up. Nicky brightened and returned to the board.
God, Agatha thought, they’re both so easy to love.
Rio finished her double blitz victory, pretended to take a bow, then collapsed into a chair. “The pressure! The fame! The responsibility!”
Two kids climbed onto her lap right away.
Lilia sighed. “You are as dramatic today as you were at twelve.”
“That’s slander,” Rio said, but she was already tickling the kids climbing all over her.
Agatha caught herself laughing quietly under her breath. And she didn’t want to interrupt any of it. She wanted to stay exactly where she was: leaning against the wall, taking in the entire room.
Sister Marianne eventually drifted toward Agatha, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. With a gentle smile, she set one mug in front of Agatha and took a seat at a small wooden table and invited Agatha to sit with her.
Agatha thanked her softly. They both sat back, sipping quietly, letting the sounds of the room wash over them, full of little voices asking questions, chess pieces clicking against boards, Rio’s bright commentary floating above the rest.
After a long moment, Sister Marianne turned toward her. “She was quite a handful, you know,” she said, nodding toward Rio, who was now kneeling between two kids, demonstrating how to fork two rooks at once. “A delightful handful. But still a handful.”
Agatha smiled immediately. “I can imagine.”
“Oh, she kept us on our toes,” Sister Marianne continued. “When she was about nine, she decided she didn’t like the lights-out rule. So she organized a protest. A protest!” The nun laughed in reminisced scandal. “She made signs. She marched the hallway. She claimed that creativity required nighttime brainstorming.”
“That sounds exactly like her.”
“It nearly worked, too,” Sister Marianne replied. “She delivered a full speech. Persuasive, dramatic… honestly, we all had trouble keeping straight faces.”
Agatha looked at Rio again, smiling in spite of herself. Rio was ruffling a boy’s hair, laughing at something he said, then leaning over the board with the same focus she had in international matches. “She’s always been like that, hasn’t she?” Agatha asked. “Larger than life. Brilliant. Ridiculous.”
“Oh, yes,” Sister Marianne said fondly. “But with a heart ten sizes too big. And a very particular sense of justice.” She chuckled. “Once, she climbed out a window because she thought one of the younger children had been scolded unfairly and she wanted to ‘stage a jailbreak.’ She only made it to the courtyard before she tripped on her shoelaces.”
“Oh God. I’m going to tease her about that forever.”
Sister Marianne patted her hand warmly. “You may tease her all you want. She deserves someone who can keep up.”
Agatha sipped her coffee again, unable to hide her smile now. The idea of little Rio, wild and stubborn and already a force of nature, made her chest almost burst with affection.
“And she always loved the little ones,” Sister Marianne added. “Even when she was practically a baby herself. She tutored them long before Lilia realized she was an actual prodigy. She carried the toddlers around on her back even when she pretended to hate it.”
Agatha watched Rio again. Rio had now been pulled into a cluster of four kids who were loudly accusing each other of cheating. Rio pretended to gasp, fanning herself with a bishop. “Cheating? In MY presence? Impossible. I will investigate this injustice!”
The children squealed. Agatha melted a little.
“You’re very fond of her,” Sister Marianne said with a knowing smile.
Agatha flushed. “Am I that obvious?”
“Oh, very,” the nun said without hesitation. “But it’s lovely. She deserves someone who looks at her like that.”
Agatha ducked her head, her cheeks warm despite the coolness of the room at being read so easily. “She’s… she’s very special,” Agatha admitted. “She’s one of a kind. Truly.”
“And you must be, too,” Sister Marianne said.
“Me?”
“Of course you,” the nun replied as though it were the most obvious thing on earth. “She brought you here, didn’t she? You and your son.” She nodded softly. “That is not something she does lightly. She is careful with her heart.”
Agatha swallowed, her gaze drifting back to Rio. Hearing someone else say that—someone who had known Rio since childhood—made it eveen more true.
“I’m… honored she trusts me,” Agatha said quietly. “Honestly. I still can’t believe it sometimes.”
Sister Marianne’s smile never faltered. “Rio gives her heart sparingly. But when she gives it, she gives it fully.” She leaned closer. “And she has already given so much of it to you. I can see it.”
Agatha flushed deeper, her heart beating a little more fast. “I… we make each other better,” she said finally. “It hasn’t been very long yet, but… I know it’s meaningful. More meaningful than anything I’ve had before.” She exhaled, almost shy at her own sincerity. “It matters.”
Sister Marianne nodded approvingly. “Take care of her then. She deserves someone who will.”
“I will,” Agatha promised softly. “But she takes care of me just as much. Maybe more.”
The older woman smiled, her wrinkles deepening. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Agatha laughed under her breath, partly out of relief, partly out of the surrealness that washed over her. She shook her head lightly. “I’m sorry—this is just—” She gestured vaguely at the room. “If someone had told me last year that I would be spending Christmas Day talking to a nun about my relationship with another woman…” She laughed harder. “It’s absurd.”
“Life is absurd, my dear. God has a sense of humor.”
Agatha let out another helpless laugh. “Apparently He does.”
Their laughter must have carried because Rio, a few tables away, looked up with a puzzled expression. She tilted her head, brows raised in silent question. Agatha waved at her, smiling. Rio’s confusion melted immediately, replaced by a grin so wide it nearly split her face. She wiggled her fingers back at Agatha, then turned back to the game she was supervising.
Sister Marianne chuckled. “Ah. See? She is happy.”
“She is,” Agatha agreed softly.
Suddenly, a familiar little figure suddenly reappeared at Agatha’s side. The tiny determined five-year-old—Charlotte, if Agatha remembered well—marched straight toward the table with purpose. Without announcing herself, she tugged on Agatha’s sleeve to get her attention.
Before Agatha could ask if she needed something, Charlotte climbed directly into her lap as though she had known her for years. She plopped down comfortably, wriggled a little to settle herself, and then thrust a thin picture book into Agatha’s hands.
“Read,” she said firmly, as if no one in the room could possibly have a more important thing to do.
“Oh. Well… okay,” Agatha said with amused surrender.
Sister Marianne chuckled beside them. “You’ve made a friend,” she teased. “Charlotte doesn’t take to strangers easily. Consider yourself honored.”
Agatha smiled at Sister Marianne, then looked down at the little girl in her lap, who was watching her with big expectant eyes. “All right, sweetheart,” Agatha said, adjusting her hold on her. “Let’s see what book you’ve brought me.”
Satisfied she had secured cooperation, Charlotte let out a pleased hum and leaned back into Agatha’s chest, her tiny hands pressing lightly against Agatha’s arms. Sister Marianne excused herself and wandered back into the room, leaving the two of them alone in their little bubble.
Agatha shifted slightly to make them both more comfortable. She angled the book so they could both see the colorful illustrations of winter animals and forests. Charlotte immediately snuggled in deeper, tucking her head beneath Agatha’s chin.
Agatha felt a sharp tug in her chest, like the echo of long-ago mornings when Nicky had been this small, climbing into her lap with a stack of books, demanding stories with the same earnestness. The memory was bittersweet. She felt it into her bones: the quiet weight of her son at three, then four, then five, six… curled into her the same way, sometimes falling asleep on her shoulder, the little sighs he used to make when she turned the pages, the smell of baby shampoo, the feeling that he was small enough to hold forever.
She swallowed against the ache of nostalgia, her fingers brushing gently over the spine of the book.
But when she lifted her gaze, she saw Nicky at a table across the room, surrounded by older kids he had just met that morning. He was laughing, gesturing at a chessboard, clearly explaining some bold move he had just made, and pride rose in her throat.
Her son was growing up. Into someone good, someone warm, someone generous with his joy.
A tiny tug on her sleeve jolted her back from her thoughts. Charlotte, apparently displeased with the interruption, tapped the page insistently. “Read more,” she repeated, more insistently this time.
Agatha chuckled. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got distracted.” She pressed a fond kiss to the top of the girl’s head then resumed reading. Charlotte relaxed again, satisfied.
Agatha kept on reading, giving every character a different voice, adding silly expressions when she showed Charlotte the pictures, letting herself enjoy the small weight of a child nestled trustingly against her again. She didn’t realize how absorbed she had become until a familiar scent she had come to associate with her drifted around her.
A pair of arms slipped gently around her shoulders from behind and Rio’s chin came to rest lightly on the top of Agatha’s head.
“There you are,” she murmured.
Agatha smiled, finishing the last few lines of the story before closing the book. Charlotte turned around, satisfied with the entertainment she had extracted. Rio leaned down to wink at her.
“Okay, Little Miss Charlotte,” she said playfully, “I need to steal Agatha for something very, very important. Top-secret mission. Classified.”
Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “But she was reading to me.”
“I know,” Rio said. “And she’s very good at it. But I asked first.”
“You didn’t!” Charlotte argued. “I did.”
Rio gasped. “Oh no. You’re right. You got me there.” She crouched down to Charlotte’s level. “But if I don’t borrow her now, something terrible will happen.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “What?”
Rio leaned closer. “I might explode.”
Charlotte giggled so hard she snorted.
“Go on and play with the other girls,” Rio added gently. “We’ll be right back.”
“Okay!” Charlottte chirped. She hopped from Agatha’s lap, turned around and gave her a very proper little curtsy which made Agatha melt entirely and then scampered off without another world, already calling for her little friends.
Once she was gone, Rio extended a hand toward Agatha. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”
Agatha stood up, curiosity in her eyes. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing,” Rio said innocently. “Just… a surprise.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes at her, already fondly resigned. She let Rio intertwine their fingers, her palm fitting perfectly against her own. Once they stepped out of the room, Rio did not let go of Agatha’s hand. If anything, she held it tighter. She gave Agatha’s hand a little tug and started guiding her down the hall toward the staircase. Agatha followed easily, willingly, her gaze lingering on the back of Rio’s head and the dark hair bouncing lightly as she moved.
“Where are we going?” Agatha asked softly, though she didn’t sound particularly concerned with the answer.
“It’s a surprise,” Rio said again, not even glancing back because she knew Agatha would follow without hesitation.
Agatha rolled her eyes. “You and your surprises…”
“You love my surprises,” Rio countered, and Agatha couldn’t deny that.
The hallway upstairs was quiet bar the muffled sounds of children laughing far below. Rio moved from memory. At the far end of the hall, she pushed open a wooden door and led Agatha inside.
The room was tiny—smaller than Nicky’s room by half—with slanted ceilings and bunk beds pressed against one wall. A third bed, a little twin, sat under the window. The blankets were brightly colored, clearly mismatched, full of personality children’s bedding always were. A few oldish stuffed animals were tucked neatly on pillows, and a string of paper snowflakes hung over the window, cut by small and clumsy hands. Agatha took it in with a knowing smile already forming on her lips.
Rio stopped in the center of the room and turned toward her with a grin on her face. “This,” she declared, sweeping her arm around, “used to be my room. Mine, Lucy’s, and Adriana’s. The three of us shared.”
Agatha stepped deeper inside, her eyes tracing the familiar chaos of a room lived in by children. “You slept here?”
Rio nodded. “Yup. For years.”
“Let me guess.” Agatha smirked and pointed immediately. “Top bunk was yours.”
“How did you guess that so fast?”
Agatha raised a brow. “Because you have always given top-bunk energy.”
Rio laughed. “Well, I did. And once—only once—I jumped off the top like an idiot and broke my pinkie. That’s why it’s crooked.” She wiggled her smallest finger at Agatha, looking almost proud.
Agatha snorted in surprise. “I never noticed your pinkie was crooked.”
Rio lifted it higher. “Behold: a permanent reminder of my questionable childhood choices.”
Agatha couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. She reached forward, took Rio’s hand gently, brought the pinkie to her lips and kissed it softly.
Rio went scarlet.
“Nope. Bad thoughts in childhood bedroom. Nope, nope, nope,” she muttered, flustered. Then she turned away. “Okay—okay, come here. I want to show you something.”
She guided Agatha toward the bunk bed. Rio climbed onto the first step of the little ladder, supporting herself lightly on the frame as she reached up toward the underside of the top bunk. Carefully, so as not to disturb the belongings of the current little girl who slept there, she twisted sideways, found a specific spot on the wooden slate and pointed.
“Look,” she said, her voice suddenly softer.
Agatha leaned down, bringing her face close to Rio’s, and followed the direction of her finger. At first she saw only the grain of old pine wood, worn smooth by years of tiny hands. Then she saw something small, carved with the determined clumsiness of a teenage girl armed with a pilfered pocketknife.
A letter “R.”
Next to it, two chess queens, one filled-in in sharpie, one outline-only. And between them, carved with surprising tenderness, a little heart.
Rio’s face flushed pink again. “I, uh… I carved that when I was sixteen,” she admitted. “I used to lay up here after lights-out and…and just imagine things. Imagine who I’d become. Who I’d love. I didn’t know it would be you, obviously, but—” She touched the little heart with her fingertip. “I guess I manifested you. Or something close enough that fate did the rest.”
Agatha reached up, cupped Rio’s cheeks, and kissed her.
I see who you were. I see who you’ve become.
When they pulled apart, Rio didn’t move far. She leaned down from her spot on the ladder until their foreheads rested together, the tip of her nose brushing Agatha’s.
“I love you,” she whispered.
It was the first time she’d said it. The words trembled a little, but they were true, so true they vibrated through the air.
Agatha closed her eyes and exhaled softly. “I love you too.”
Saying it felt like something inevitable. Natural even.
They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths mingling, their hands still entwined. Then, from downstairs, Nicky’s voice carried up through the floorboards.
“MAMA? RIO? It’s lunch time!”
They both pulled back and Rio kissed her once more and hopped lightly off the ladder. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Agatha’s hand again. “Before he comes searching and finds us making out in the kids’ room.”
Agatha snorted. “That would be an unforgettable Christmas memory.”
“Exactly why we’re leaving,” Rio shot back, already pulling her toward the door. “That’s so gross by the way. Not in front of my old stuffed bears, thank you very much.”
They stepped into the hallway and walked toward the staircase. Just before they started down, Agatha tugged gently on Rio’s hand, stopping her. Rio turned around.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Agatha said softly.
Rio smiled. “It really is the happiest one yet.”
T H E E N D