Christmas at Cat's house was quieter than most would be. It was as if the holiday was being held back to avoid stirring anything too bright or too loud. Well that's because it was.
Cat sat cross-legged on the living room rug, staring at the modestly decorated tree. It wasn't like the usual extravaganza that most put together—there were no blinking lights, no bright red ornaments, no strands of popcorn wrapped around the branches. Their tree was small, barely over four feet, and the plasticl branches of soft tones of white and gold. Her mom had insisted that it would be less overwhelming for Matteo that way. Cat understood, but it didn't stop her from mourning how vibrant Christmas should be. The Christmases she had seen on TV, in her friend's photos, how she vaugley remembers from when she was young.
Matteo was sitting nearby, his eyes locked onto a puzzle spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He was wearing his usual worn pyjama set, sleeves too long, making him look even smaller than he was. His lips moved silently as he counted the puzzle pieces, over and over again.
"Cat, can you hand me the wrapping paper?" Cassandra, Cat's mom, asked quietly from the kitchen. Her voice was gentle, restrained, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace that had settled over the house.
"Sure, Mom," Cat replied, grabbing the roll of plain blue wrapping paper from the counter and passing it over. Cassandra gave her a tired smile.
Leonardo, Cat's dad, was seated at the dining table, quietly working on his laptop. He glanced up occasionally, offering a small smile when Cat caught his eye, but he didn't say much. It was clear they were all walking on eggshells, trying to keep the day calm, trying not to overwhelm Matteo. There were a few schedule changes that came with Christmas, such as the big meal being at lunch time, everyone being home on a weekday, and the addition of gift giving. They could of course ignore the holiday completely, and on some years they had done, but there were few joyful things that could do in the house anymore, so they held onto what they had.
"Matteo, sweetie," Cassandra said softly, walking over to him with a neatly wrapped gift. "Do you want to open this now?"
Matteo stopped focusing on the puzzle and stared at the gift for a long moment before shaking his head quickly.
"Maybe later," Cat whispered, knowing her brother needed time. Cassandra nodded, gently setting the gift down on the table.
Christmas mornings had become like this—soft and slow. When they were younger, Christmas had been full of noise, of laughter, of Cat's wild excitement as she tore through presents while her big brother did the same. But now, with Matteo's condition progressing and his reactions to stimuli becoming harder to predict, things had changed.
They had to be careful. Too much noise, too much activity, even too many bright lights could send Matteo spiralling into distress. So, the joy of the holiday had been dialled down, simplified into something manageable. It made the house feel empty, though, as if Christmas itself had been hollowed out.
Cat glanced at her brother, her heart aching for him. She missed the old Matteo, the one who used to join her in building forts out of blankets and who laughed at her silly impressions. But this was who he was now—a version of himself that Cat still loved deeply, but one who needed more care, more patience, and a quieter world around him.
"Hey, Matteo," Cat said softly, crawling over to where he sat. "Do you want to work on this puzzle together?"
He didn't answer right away, his fingers continuing to fiddle with one of the puzzle pieces, but eventually, he nodded, just once. Cat smiled, sitting beside him and quietly helping him place the pieces where they belonged. It was one of the few activities they could still do together, something that kept him calm while giving her a small connection to him.
The hours passed slowly, the day unfolding in a soft, repetitive rhythm. Cat's family exchanged gifts quietly, though Matteo refused to open his until later, as he always did.
As the afternoon sun began to set, casting long shadows across the quiet room, Matteo finally picked up one of the wrapped gifts, examining it as if he were still deciding whether to open it. He looked at Cat, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Do you want me to help?" Cat asked, her voice soft but encouraging.
Matteo hesitated for a moment before handing her the present. Cat carefully unwrapped it for him, revealing another simple puzzle, one he had asked for weeks ago but forgotten about. His face softened as he recognised it, and he looked at her with something that almost resembled gratitude.
"Thanks," he murmured, before retreating back into his own world.
Cat sat back, watching him for a moment, her heart heavy but full of love. Christmas was different now, quieter and less joyful, but it was still a day for family. Even if it wasn't the way it used to be, even if Matteo couldn't join in the celebrations like before, they were still together. And that, in its own way, was enough.