The scent of Christmas filled the tiny apartment Aiah and Stacey had shared for nearly a year. Well, it was more like the idea of Christmas—the warm, festive smells clashing in a chaotic mix that somehow still worked. Stacey's freshly roasted tupig, Aiah's bubbling lechon paksiw on the stove, and a faint hint of lavender from Stacey's meticulously arranged bundle of dried flowers filled the space.
Aiah stood in front of their window, perched precariously on a chair, holding an enormous, glittering parol. "Babe!" she called out, turning to Stacey, who was busy in the kitchen. "Where's the tape? Kailangan ko na 'to idikit!"
"Babe," Stacey replied, her Ilocana lilt unmistakable, "you're really putting that thing up? Hindi ba masyadong malaki? Baka matanggal 'yung bintana natin."
"Hindi p'wede!" Aiah shot back, dramatically holding the parol aloft like a trophy. "It's tradition. Walang Christmas kung walang parol!"
Stacey rolled her eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Fine, pero kapag nahulog 'yan at nabasag ang burnay jar ko, ikaw ang bibili ng bago."
"Deal!" Aiah said with a cheeky grin.
Their first Christmas as a married couple was proving to be a colorful experiment in compromise. Aiah, a proud Cebuana, couldn't imagine a Christmas without the bright, lively chaos she grew up with—oversized decorations, endless food, and boisterous karaoke. Stacey, on the other hand, had grown up with quieter Ilocano traditions. Her idea of Christmas was simplicity: a meaningful dinner, thoughtful gifts, and moments shared over a glass of basi wine.
But they both loved Christmas, and that was enough to make it work.
"Nasaan ang lechon ko?" Aiah asked as she peeked over Stacey's shoulder. She was watching Stacey stir a pot of pinakbet with the precision of someone who had made the dish a hundred times before.
"Gutom ka na naman?" Stacey teased, barely glancing up. "Hindi ba p'wede kumain ka muna ng gulay? Healthy 'to."
"Gulay?!" Aiah gasped, clutching her chest like she'd been mortally offended. "Love, it's Christmas. Hindi 'to panahon para maging healthy!"
Stacey laughed as she pushed Aiah away from the pot. "Maghintay ka. You'll eat the pinakbet, or wala kang dessert mamaya."
Aiah pouted but grabbed a spoon anyway. She dipped it into the pinakbet and took a tentative bite. "Hmm... okay, fine. Masarap 'to," she admitted reluctantly. "Pero kung kakainin ko 'to, kakain ka ng lechon mamaya. Fair?"
"Fair," Stacey said, smirking. "But no complaints when you drink basi later. It's an acquired taste."
The two continued their playful banter throughout dinner prep, the kitchen filling with the sound of laughter and the clinking of pots. The dining table was soon covered in a feast that could only be described as an East-meets-West celebration of Filipino Christmas. Beside Stacey's perfectly wrapped tupig were Aiah's colorful puso rice packets. Plates of biko, pancit, and roasted vegetables filled every available space.
It was chaotic, but it was theirs.
After dinner, Aiah wasted no time setting up the karaoke machine. The familiar startup tune blared from the speakers, and she grabbed the microphone with the confidence of someone who took karaoke very seriously.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Aiah announced in a deep, theatrical voice, "this is your captain speaking. Tonight's main event: Christmas in Our Hearts!"
Stacey groaned from the couch, burying her face in a pillow. "Babe, really? That song again?"
"Yes!" Aiah replied as the opening notes began to play. "It's tradition. Parang national anthem na 'to ng Pasko."
Aiah sang with gusto, her voice rising and falling dramatically as she gestured toward an imaginary crowd. Stacey couldn't help laughing, despite herself.
"Okay," Stacey said as the song ended. "Pero ako naman after this. And no judgment if I pick Aegis."
Aiah handed her the mic. "Love, I married you. I signed up for Alamat already."
Stacey's rendition of "Marahani" was surprisingly good—good enough that Aiah couldn't resist cheering loudly and pretending to throw imaginary roses onto the stage.
By the time the karaoke battle ended, they were breathless from laughter, sprawled on the couch together. Stacey lit a few candles she'd bought earlier—ones scented with tobacco and eucalyptus. The warm, earthy fragrance mixed with the scent of leftover food and the faint aroma of Aiah's parol, now glowing brightly by the window.
It was a moment that felt simple but magical.
As the clock struck midnight, Aiah bounced excitedly on the couch. "Okay, gift exchange time! Unahan na. You open mine first!"
Stacey unwrapped her gift carefully, revealing a handwoven Ilocano blanket in deep blue and gold. She gasped as she ran her fingers over the intricate patterns.
"Babe," she said, her voice soft. "Ang ganda nito. Saan mo nakuha 'to?"
"Remember when we went to Vigan for our anniversary? I saw you looking at these in one of the shops," Aiah explained. "So I went back and bought one for you."
Stacey leaned in and kissed Aiah on the cheek. "Thank you, love. Ang thoughtful mo talaga."
"Your turn!" Aiah said eagerly, handing Stacey a small box.
Stacey's gift was a delicate silver bracelet with charms shaped like parols and rice stalks. Aiah gasped as she held it up to the light.
"Oh my God," Aiah whispered, blinking back tears. "Ang ganda nito. Ang sweet mo naman."
"I wanted something that represented us," Stacey explained. "The parols for you, and the rice stalks for me. Para kahit nasaan tayo, we always have both."
Aiah's response was to tackle Stacey in a tight hug, knocking over a throw pillow and nearly toppling the tree.
As they lay on the couch later that night, tangled in each other's arms, Aiah looked up at the parol shining softly by the window. "Next year," she began, "I think we should visit our families. Half Cebu, half Ilocos."
Stacey groaned playfully. "So we'll come home ten pounds heavier kasi pipilitin nila tayong kumain ng lahat ng handa?"
"Exactly," Aiah said, laughing. "But it'll be fun. Imagine your Nanay teaching me how to make dinengdeng, and my cousins dragging you into a karaoke battle."
"Fine," Stacey said, resting her head on Aiah's shoulder. "But if I survive karaoke, you're surviving my family's padas harvest festival. Deal?"
"Deal," Aiah said, pulling her closer.
The glow of the parol and the flickering candlelight made the apartment feel warm and alive. It wasn't just a mix of Cebuano and Ilocano traditions anymore. It was something entirely new, something they had built together.
The following morning, Stacey woke up to the sound of clanging pans and a faint smell of burnt... something. She groggily made her way to the kitchen, where she found Aiah standing over the stove, looking defeated.
"Babe," Stacey said, stifling a laugh. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to make dinengdeng," Aiah replied sheepishly, holding up a charred piece of eggplant. "But I think I killed it."
Stacey burst out laughing as she grabbed an apron. "Tara, let me save you. Team effort tayo."
The rest of the morning was a chaotic dance of Aiah burning things and Stacey trying to fix them. By the time they finally sat down to eat, the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a tornado. But as they shared their mismatched breakfast of slightly burnt dinengdeng and reheated puso rice, they couldn't stop laughing.
That evening, as they sat by the window watching the parol's soft light, Aiah turned to Stacey. "You know what? I think we did pretty good for our first Christmas."
Stacey smiled, resting her head against Aiah's shoulder. "Yeah. I think we did."
As they sipped their glasses of basi and cider, they talked about next year—about visiting their families, blending traditions, and building a life that felt like home.
For Stacey and Aiah, Christmas wasn't just about the parols or the tupig. It wasn't about
the food or the gifts. It was about them—two women in love, finding joy in every compromise, every laugh, and every chaotic, beautiful moment.
And that was the best Christmas gift of all.