The Christmas tree lights flickered softly, their colors glowing in a slow, rhythmic dance. I smiled as I looked at the ornaments that Lily and I had carefully hung just a week ago. The thought of Lily’s excitement made my heart swell. I could already picture her rushing down the stairs, her face lighting up with joy.
But something felt off.
“Lily?” I called, glancing at the stairs. No answer. That was strange—she was always awake before me on Christmas morning.
Minutes ticked by. Ten… fifteen… thirty.
A knot began to form in my stomach. I put the spatula down and dried my hands on the dish towel, walking toward the stairs with growing unease.
“Lily?” I called again, louder this time. My heart pounded as I ascended the steps, my feet feeling heavier with each one. Her room was at the end of the hall, and I could see the door slightly ajar. “You awake, bug?” I whispered, trying to sound cheerful. I nudged the door open gently.
There she was—sitting on the edge of her bed, her tiny body hunched over, holding her teddy bunny, Buttons, close to her chest. Her head was bent down, and her soft hair draped over her face like a curtain. I kneeled in front of her, my heart aching as I tried to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong, baby girl?”
She didn’t look up, but her lips tightened, and she shook her head slowly.
“I don’t want to,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
For a moment, I wondered if she was just upset over something small, but then she spoke again, her words like a dagger to my heart. “Grandpa told me the truth about Mom.”
I blinked, confusion swirling in my mind. “What truth? What do you mean?”
She hesitated, her eyes flickering to mine, unsure of how I would react. “He said… he said Santa’s not real. And that Mom buys me presents because she feels bad about always working and never being home. And that she doesn’t care about me.”
The blood drained from my face, and I immediately pulled her into my arms. “No, baby, that’s not true. None of that is true.” I ran my hand gently down her back, feeling her little body tremble as she fought to hold back tears.
“You know your mom loves you more than anything in the world, right?” I asked softly, pressing my cheek to her hair. “She loves you so, so much.”
Lily sniffled against my chest. “Then why isn’t she here?”
I gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Because she’s out there working hard to help people, just like she always does. But she’s coming home early today, just for you. She’ll be here soon.”
I kissed the top of her head and eased her back onto her pillow. As I brushed her hair away from her face, I tried to steady my racing thoughts. “You stay here and rest, okay? I’m going to call Grandpa. I’ll be right back.”
I grabbed my phone and dialed my dad’s number, my hands shaking as I waited for him to pick up.
“Merry Christmas, son!” he greeted cheerfully, but I could hear the edge in his voice when he added, “I would ask to speak to Sarah, but I imagine she’s working, as usual.”
“Yeah, she is,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “Merry Christmas, Dad. We need to talk.” I tried to stay calm, but the anger bubbled up inside me. “Why on earth did you tell Lily that Sarah doesn’t care about her? Bad enough you told her Santa isn’t real, but making her doubt her mother’s love? That’s not okay.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and when my dad spoke again, his tone was defensive. “That woman is never home. Always off saving strangers. What kind of mother does that?”
I could feel the heat rising in my chest. “A damn good one, that’s who! She works hard to support us and help people who need it. And yeah, maybe she’s busy, but she loves Lily more than anything. You don’t get to tear her down just because you don’t understand her job.”
My dad grumbled something under his breath, but I didn’t wait for him to finish. I hung up the phone, my mind still swirling with frustration. It was clear he didn’t get it. He probably never would.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. There was too much to do. The holiday wasn’t over, and I still had a Christmas feast to prepare for the rest of the family.
Later that afternoon, as I stood in the kitchen making gravy, I heard the front door creak open. I looked up just in time to see Sarah drop her bag by the door and scoop Lily up in a tight hug. My heart did a flip as I watched them—Lily’s face lighting up as Sarah swung her around. Finally, the weight on my chest started to ease.
That night, after Lily had fallen asleep and the kitchen was clean, I collapsed on the couch, exhausted. My phone was still in my hand, and I dialed my dad’s number again.
He answered on the second ring. “You calling to apologize, son?” he asked in that same irritatingly chipper voice.
I exhaled slowly, my patience wearing thin. “No, I’m calling to tell you something.” My voice was firm, unyielding. “If you ever, ever make my daughter doubt her mother’s love again, you won’t be welcome in this house. Not on Christmas, not on any day.”
There was silence on the other end for a moment, and I could almost hear him gritting his teeth. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. Whatever.”
I ended the call, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I’d done something right for my family. I had protected my daughter, and I had defended Sarah. That was all that mattered.
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