On Christmas Eve, my fiancé gave my seat to my stepsister and sent me to Vermont by train. For a moment, I thought he was joking. Rhys stood beside the open trunk of his SUV, holding my suitcase. "Six forty from Penn Station," he said. "It's a direct train." I looked at the ticket on his phone. Ten minutes earlier, I thought Rhys and I were about to begin the five-hour drive together. Now Willa sat in the front passenger seat of his SUV. My cream travel blanket covered her legs. Her eyes were still red, and one hand rested weakly against her chest. In the back, my father and stepmother sat on either side of Willa’s golden retriever. Milo wore a red Christmas bandana. A safety harness secured him to the middle seat. Dad had one hand resting on his head. No one was getting out. "What is this?" I asked. "Why is Milo in the back seat?" The passenger window slid down. "I’m sorry, Maren," Willa said softly."He was terrified, he wouldn’t settle in the cargo area. I tried sitting in the back, but I started feeling sick." Rhys turned toward her. "You don’t need to explain." Then he held his phone out to me. "I found you a direct train. Quiet car, aisle seat." I stared at him. "So the dog gets a seat, Willa gets mine, and I'm supposed to take the train?" His expression tightened. "Don't make it sound like that. You'll still get there tonight." "We're supposed to drive together." "It's only a few hours. You can manage." I had spent six weeks arranging this Christmas trip. I coordinated everyone's schedules, changed the dates around Dad's work, found the cabin, booked dinner, ordered groceries, and reserved the ski equipment. Rhys had promised to drive us. That was the one thing I had expected him to do for me. Now he was standing beside the car, explaining why I had to travel alone. "When did you decide this?" "Last night." My fingers tightened around my suitcase handle. Last night, I had been sitting beside him wrapping presents. He had even asked me whether I had packed his gloves. He already knew I wouldn't be in the car. "You bought the ticket without asking me?" "Seats were selling out." My father lowered his window. "Maren, please," my father said, giving me that familiar, exhausted look. "You're the older sister. You travel alone for work. You know how to handle stations. The train is only a few hours." "Dad, I'm not asking anyone to handle a train station. I'm asking why I was removed from my own seat." He sighed. "Willa isn't feeling well. Can't you just let this go?" Inside the SUV, Willa drew a shaky breath. "I can get out. I don't want Maren to feel unwanted." She looked at Rhys. Her fingers stopped on the buckle. Rhys immediately opened her door. "No. You were sick ten minutes ago. Stay where you are." He pulled my blanket higher over her knees. I watched him do it. This was how things always happened. Willa cried, and everyone rushed to make room for her. I stayed calm, so the room they made came from me. My birthday dinner. My wedding-dress fitting. Our first night in the apartment Rhys and I bought together. Each time, someone reminded me that I was stronger. Each time, I mistook being overlooked for being trusted. I looked at Rhys. My partner of seven years. The man I was supposed to marry in exactly eight weeks. He was supposed to be my family. He was supposed to choose me. My hand drifted to my coat pocket. My fingers brushed against the small, velvet-wrapped box hidden inside. "Rhys," I said. "I have something important to tell you." He paused. For one second, his attention returned to me. Then Milo whined. Willa bent toward him. "He’s shaking again." Rhys reached into the back and checked the dog’s harness. Dad moved closer to Milo. Lenora looked at the dashboard clock. No one asked what I wanted to say. "If it isn’t urgent," Rhys said, still facing the dog, "can we talk when you arrive?" My fingers closed around the gift box. "No," I said quietly. "It isn’t an emergency." Rhys rolled my suitcase closer to the apartment entrance. He leaned in, pressed a distracted kiss to my forehead, and murmured, "I knew you’d understand." Then he climbed behind the wheel. Willa remained in my seat. Milo remained in his. The SUV pulled away. My phone buzzed before its taillights disappeared. Family Christmas Lenora: Maren, please call the cabin and confirm the early check-in. Willa and Milo need to rest when we arrive. They were already driving toward the Christmas I had created for them. I was still expected to make it comfortable. I lifted the lid. Inside rested a black-and-white ultrasound strip, fresh from the clinic this morning. I was seven weeks pregnant. Tucked beneath the photo was a small card I had written for Rhys: Merry Christmas, Daddy. See you in July. My family had given my seat to a dog. None of them knew they had driven away without Rhys’s child.