your final, final exam cannot be understated. Granted, I still had one more semester of college to go, but that was a problem for another season.

After Viv, Jo, Quen and I escaped the largest lecture hall in Science 1—where our last final of the semester took place—we marched straight to the Foxhole for celebratory drinks. I felt lighter than air and brighter than sunlight. At various stages throughout the night, other friends from our dorm and our classes joined us to play pool or play darts or dance or drink.

By the time we left it was freezing and dark outside.

Quen walked Viv and me back home. She dashed for the heated, toasty lobby immediately, complaining, "I don't think I can feel my extremities."

But I was warm all over.

Our breaths misting in the night, I wordlessly wrapped my arms around Quen. His hands curled at my waist. "Nine o'clock tomorrow?"

"Yep," I said into his sternum. He was going to see me off to New York City. Tommy was flying up from Texas. Our family of six—plus Wenghao, Olly's husband, and Pippa, their daughter—was scheduled to visit my uncle's family in the suburbs for the holidays.

Quen smirked, "Will you miss me?" My answer came when I curled my fists around his collar and pulled his mouth to mine.

The tip of his nose was ice-cold as it nudged my cheek, as I'm sure mine was, too, but his lips and tongue were scalding. I wrapped myself in him, memorising the way he held me and the way he teased me and the way he kissed me, deep as the ocean, but soft as sea foam.

I pulled away slowly. "Does that give you your answer?"

"Nearly." Quen pressed me back into the red brick wall of the dormitory building, his hands sliding under my sweater. I shivered at the caress of his cold fingers along my spine, arching into his chest. He whispered hoarsely, "Needs a repeat trial."

I barely had time to laugh deliriously before his lips sealed over mine once more.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The afternoon of Christmas Day, I stood with Mom and Aunty Helen in the Wangs' spacious marble-accented kitchen. Mom and Uncle David were siblings, and Aunty Helen was David's wife.

"So, Krista, how's college going?" Aunty Helen asked me graciously, simmering a gravy over the stove. The ham rested in the oven below, cooling down. Next to her, Mom sliced garden vegetables for a salad.

"You're in your last year, correct?"

I glanced up from the kitchen island, which I had claimed for my cookie-decorating station. "Yep. It's going good."

She beamed over her shoulder, blonde bob swaying. "Are you excited to be going to Med school? Olivia and Thomas should give you all their hard-earned advice."

"Um..." I rubbed at an itch on my nose with the underside of my wrist, keeping my sticky fingers well away. "I don't think I'm going to go anymore."

"Oh, wow."

Mom stiffened. Aunty Helen noticed. In the long silence that followed, I heard the faint noises of a Hallmark movie soundtrack, babbling children and my siblings laughing.

At length, my aunt said tentatively, "That's a big decision."

"It is a big decision," Mom snapped, her knife thumping a mile a minute on the cutting board. Her food preparations went uninterrupted as she lectured me under the guise of talking to her sister-in-law. "Which is why she should have at least gone through with the rest of her interviews. Then she can decide later on if she actually wants to accept or reject any placements."

"Well, this was already later on for me," I called. "I've known for a long time that medicine isn't my passion, and I didn't want to waste any more time pursuing it."

Mom spat, "How could you know? You were committed to it before this year."

"I'm— uh," Aunty Helen glanced toward the living room as if someone had called her name.

No-one had.

"—going to set the table. Be back in a tick."

"Because I thought that was what I wanted."

"And now?"

"Now, it's more complicated."

"I don't see how. It should be simpler, now that you are about to graduate and all your applications are sent out," Mom said. "Now should be the simplest time because all you have to do is wait!"

"But I don't want to go to Med school! I wanted to because you wanted me to."

"So this is my fault. I never forced you to pick medicine. I would have been happy with any career that provided for your future. Engineering. Law. Business."

"I know you never forced me," I said in a muted voice.

It was true. She hadn't forced a thing on me.

I chose ballet. Debating. I said yes to becoming a model, and now an influencer. I was self-motivated when applying for Pre-Med programmes. But when a little girl idolised her mother, she'd do just about anything.

"All my life you've drilled the expectation for perfect looks and perfect grades and a perfect social life from me. And because I love you, and I respect you, I came to want those things, too."

Mom stiffened. We didn't say we loved each other verbally. I didn't expect her to say it back. I didn't care right now.

"I feel so messed up. Now I don't know which things I genuinely care about, or which things I've been conditioned into prioritising."

A little girl would shape herself in that image, and now I didn't know how to unshape myself. I almost had the person under the filter back. I wanted Mom to accept me.

"I'm a good mother."

She still hadn't turned to look at me. It broke my heart to see her standing, so staunch and so proud, over the stovetop. From behind, I could see a few strands of grey hair darting through a forest of black.

When had those appeared? When had she become so weary and anxious? When had I grown so fast, too big to feel anything but claustrophobic in her tight embrace?

I walked closer, coming to rest beside Mom.

"I agree. That's why all I've ever wanted was to make you happy. To show that I love you, and that I'm grateful. I did everything. Extracurriculars in high school. Internships. I did fashion shows. Four years of Pre-Med at the top of my class." Gently, I said, "I want you to try to understand."

"I understand. I'm not stupid, 飛鴻," she gritted out.

"I finally figured out what I want to do in life."

"You think that now." Mom placed down the knife and turned to stare pleadingly at me. "But you can't let one identity crisis mess up the rest of your life. We've worked so hard to get to where you are. We've invested so many years into this."

"We?" I shook my head incredulously. "All I've ever done was so you would be proud of me. It's like if my life goes slightly wrong or slightly imperfect, somehow it affects you more than me. When it's not even your life."

"Because you're my daughter," she said without missing a beat. "I care more about your life than my own."

A pang of guilt struck my chest. "I know you're looking out for me. But I need to figure this out on my own. As an adult."

"你以為我還不年輕?" Mom berated me. "I've been where you are. I've been indecisive. But I never let a moment's worth of indecision change my prospects!"

"我不是indecisive. 我不是孩子了, 所以 I don't need you making my decisions for me!"

Through the cacophony of our argument, I noted that the movie had been paused and the children had gone quiet. Then, Olly's voice wafted in from the living room, carefully carefree. "Mom, come look at Pippa! She's doing this really cute dance in front of the TV."

Pippa, my baby niece. Pippa, whom Mom couldn't resist. And Olly, who was no doubt throwing her daughter between us as a buffer.

Mom ignored the request and lowered her voice to an unyielding murmur, which was definitely worse than the screaming. "我試圖給你我的wisdom. You think I wanted to work in merchandising?"

I swallowed. "No."

It was so hard to argue with Mom when I recalled the fact that she'd been young and ambitious and hungry once—desperate for stability for herself and her family. So unlike myself, because I'd never gone hungry in my life. Because of her sacrifices.

Did I have to sacrifice, too? Is that what being a good daughter meant?

"Family comes first. My kids come first. The future comes first, 飛鴻," she reminded me. "What's your future look like now?"

"I don't know."

"When will you know?" Mom wondered, now genuinely curious. It was a sharper weapon than her anger. "By graduation? By the time you need to move out of the dorms? Rent your own place? Get your own mortgages? Be an adult—"

I exhaled sharply. I had wanted to see if Mom would listen to me, just Krista, voicing Krista's thoughts. But I guess she wouldn't. And I resorted to the only sort of leverage she responded to, even as tears gathered in the corner of my eyes.

"I got accepted into Med school, Mom."

She didn't blink. I don't think she'd seen me cry in a long time. Certainly never about her. Us.

"Icahn came back already. I could go. But that's not me. My achievements aren't me. Why wasn't I ever enough?" I pleaded.

Nothing. What did I expect? Tears streamed down my face freely. My heart felt raw.

"Why? What more do you want from me?!" I sobbed.

"It's Christmas, girls," a familiar, comforting voice said. Now Dad swept into the kitchen, wrapping Mom and me in each of his arms and squeezing us together.

I sniffed hard, running the back of my wrist under both eyes, keeping my sticky fingers away. "Hi, Dad."

I guessed when Olly's attempt to break up the argument failed, she called in the reinforcements.

He said, "Celebrate. Be merry." Kissed both of us on the cheek.

Olly, Kevin and Tommy all came, too. The former, with Pippa in her arms, said peacefully, "Mom. Come on. Krista knows all this stuff already. She's smart." Pippa gurgled and reached out for me.

"She's not acting like it," Mom grumbled. At the kitchen sink I washed my hands, splashing some water onto my face, so that Olly could transfer my niece into my arms.

"Yes, she is," Olly insisted. I shot my big sister a grateful smile through red-rimmed eyes. "We know you love us, and we know you care. But she can figure this out for herself."

Tommy piled on. "Biotech is a growing industry. There's going to be lots of applications for it in the future."

"And, she still wants to get her PhD. She's still going to be a doctor," Kevin chimed in. "Just a different kind."

"Did you hear that?" Tommy joked. "A third doctor in the family. "

Mom heaved a sigh. At length, she said, "I heard." Her first words in several minutes.

Next to me, her frigid wrath melted away into solemn resignation.

"I'm sorry for yelling," I told her. Her only response was a terse nod.

Well. That was that. I had no more energy to fight her. It was like trying to topple a mountain.

One day, I promised myself, I would prove her wrong. I would make her happy and content and carefree for the rest of her days without going to Med school. Without compromising myself. I would erase those worry lines from her forehead as if they had never existed. One day.

"Come on," Dad said, pulling the ham from the oven. "吃飯了."

"Great," Kevin moaned, dramatically laying a hand on his forehead. "I'm starving."

Olly wrapped an arm around me as we walked to the dinner table while Kevin bemoaned his hunger. Part of that was his attempt to bring levity to the situation, and the rest was a genuine familial sentiment. When it came to mealtimes, all the grievances had to be temporarily laid to rest.

If only for that reprieve, I wanted Christmas dinner to last forever.

Forever and ever.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The only chance I had to call Quen arose the next morning, when things finally got less crowded.

After Christmas dinner, everyone had been either too full or too tired—or, in Pippa's case, too occupied with crying—to strike up the argument again.

The drive back from the suburbs was quiet and sleepy. Not long after arriving home, the four siblings squeezed right back into the same two bedrooms in the New York brownstone we'd inhabited growing up. Tommy and Kev in one, Olly and I in the other.

After Olly and her family departed (with several Tupperware containers full of leftovers), I'd fallen asleep. Fighting Mom was draining, but not more draining than compromising myself. I knew that now.

Boxing Day rose like a clean slate. I dialled up my wonderful boyfriend. He was the only thing getting me through these holidays, but we hadn't gotten much time to talk.

Still in bed at noon with a hot cup of herbal tea, with Mao Mao curled up on my thighs, I smiled at my phone screen. "Merry Christmas."

Quen's video flickered across the shoddy internet connection, then I was beholding his handsome, cheerful face. "Merry Christmas, baby." His hair was adorably mussed from his night's sleep. "How was Christmas dinner?"

"The dinner itself? Fine. The prep? Explosive. Mom and I got into an argument about grad school while we were plating up. I cried. She wouldn't look at me during dinner."

"Damn," he cursed, commiserating deeply. "Is she still struggling to accept your decision?"

"To say the least. We nearly dragged the whole household into it. Dad had to hug us together to get us to stop."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"Well, things are calm now. And I think she liked the sound of me still getting my doctorate." I swerved to another conversation topic before all the painful emotions of yesterday bubbled up again. "Anyways, how was your dinner?"

"Big. Loud. Mom popped out the rice wine."

Quen had no siblings, but his family rivalled the size of mine. It was his grandmother's generation that had migrated from Nanning to the U.S., and now his roots had essentially wrapped themselves around the town of Carsonville, branching all across the country.

"What an occasion."

"I know, right? She and my uncles—"

A child's voice, scratchy through the speaker, sliced his sentence in half. "Quenny, where are you? You promised you'd play hide-and-seek with me on Boxing Day and now it's Boxing Day!"

Quen chuckled, calling, "I'm in here!" Pattering footsteps grew louder and louder until finally, he hefted a young boy onto his knee. The boy, about five years old, peered curiously at Quen's laptop monitor. I peered right back. "Lyall, meet Krista."

Lyall—Quen's second cousin. A rascal, from what he had told me before about his extended family, but supposedly the sweetest boy I'd ever meet.

Aside from Quen himself, of course.

"Hi, Lyall."

Lyall's innocent brown eyes widened. Quick as lightning, his head whipped to the side and buried itself in the crook of Quen's arm. He murmured something indecipherable, which made Quen grin.

Quen filled in the context for me. "She's my girlfriend."

More silence, though I presumed Lyall was simply whispering too quietly to hear. Quen chuckled. "I know she's very pretty."

Quiet again. "Why don't you ask her?"

Finally, Lyall leaned closer to the screen and asked politely, "Can Quenny come play hide-and-seek with me?"

Argh. My heart just melted.

"Of course, love," I all but cried. He was so adorable.

"Starting right now," Quen announced. "Sixty... fifty-nine..."

Like a switch had been flipped, Lyall's shy demeanour disappeared. He leapt off Quen's knee and bolted from the bedroom. "Quenny's playing hide-and-seek! He's it, and he's already started counting!"

A roar of screeching children answered Lyall, followed by their frantic footsteps all over the house.

I wondered jocularly, "Was that Lyall's way of politely telling me to get lost?"

"In a roundabout way, yes. He wants me all to himself."

"If he asked me to break up with you, I would. Just saying." That soft, bashful voice was too cute to resist.

Quen barked a laugh. "I'm sure."

"Well, you'd better get going. Sixty seconds and counting."

Quen smiled apologetically. "I'll try to call you later, baby."

"Okay. No rush, though. See you, baby."

I had a feeling that between both of our families, we wouldn't get much by way of phone calls or quality time until we returned to Halston.

But, mark my words, the second I saw Quen again we would be more than making up for all these weeks apart.

Preferably repeatedly.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Writing the fight scene with Krista and her mom made me emotional. I've had one big fight like that with my mom, when I was about sixteen. She hadn't realised I was hurting, and I hadn't realised she was so overbearing as a way of protecting me. It felt so good to say everything I'd been feeling, and she started trusting me more with my own decisions.

Communication is always key, even when your parents don't seem like the receptive type.

I hope we can have our parents be proud of us one day. Till then, I'm proud of you all!

Aimee x