Christmas morning froze in an instant. My five-year-old, Simon, tore open a gift and screamed, “The other mom kept her promise!” My husband went pale. He knew exactly who she was—and the longer he hesitated, the more I realized this wasn’t a misunderstanding.
Mike and I had been together six years. We had one child, Simon. Life wasn’t perfect, but it felt steady, predictable… safe.
Of course, there were cracks. Every marriage has them. Moments when Mike seemed distant, distracted, but I ignored them. I thought they were small, nothing alarming. I was wrong.
Looking back, I should’ve paid more attention after the babysitter fiasco earlier that year.
We’d been drifting, so we decided to have weekly date nights, trying to reignite the spark. One of Mike’s colleagues recommended a babysitter, a young college woman. At first, everything seemed perfect. Simon liked her, our dates went well, and it felt like life was on track.
Then Mike said we had to fire her.
“I think she has a crush on me,” he told me quietly one evening. “Whenever we’re alone, she says things…”
“What things?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
Mike shrugged, trying to play it down. “She compliments my suit, my cologne… nothing crazy. But it’s a little weird.”
So, we let her go.
At the time, I appreciated that he’d come to me. It felt like teamwork, like we were still paying attention to each other. I ignored the little voice whispering that he hadn’t told me the full story. I thought I was just being paranoid. I know now I was being a fool.
I thought the hard parts were behind us. I got comfortable, stopped checking over my shoulder. Routine felt safe.
Christmas morning shattered that illusion.
It started normally enough—wrapping paper scattered across the floor, coffee cooling on the table, and Simon bouncing with that kind of energy only Christmas morning brings. All the gifts under the tree were the ones we had planned… or so I thought.
Mike handed Simon a medium-sized box. “This one’s from Santa,” he said.
I smiled. We always saved one special gift for Santa’s reveal. Tradition.
Simon tore into it and froze. Then his face lit up as if someone had plugged him into electricity.
Inside was a collector-style model car. Expensive. Simon had wanted it for months, but Mike and I had agreed it wasn’t worth it for a five-year-old.
Simon gasped, hugged the box, and shouted, “YES! The other mom kept her promise! I knew it!”
My Christmas joy died instantly.
“The… other mom?” I forced a smile.
Simon nodded, still grinning. “Yeah! She said if I was really good, she’d make sure I got it for Christmas.”
I slowly turned to Mike. He wasn’t smiling. He refused to meet my eyes.
“Who is the other mom?” I asked, my voice tight.
Simon looked between us, confusion crossing his face. “Dad knows her,” he said. “She comes sometimes. She told me not to worry.”
Not to worry… Those words twisted in my head. Worry about what?
“Mike? Care to explain?”
He stared at me, lips moving but no words coming out.
“She said we’d go on a trip soon. Me, her, and Daddy,” Simon added. “You’ll have to work, Mommy. That’s what she said.”
Mike finally spoke. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
I nodded. We walked silently. The moment the door shut, I faced him.
“Start talking, Mike. Who’s this ‘other mom’ giving our son expensive gifts?”
“It’s… Megan,” he admitted.
“Megan? The babysitter we fired because of your concerns?”
“Yes, but it’s not what you think! I swear!”
“So, you’re not having an affair with her?” I asked sharply.
“I know how it looks, but no! I just… oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”
He rubbed his hands nervously. “After we let her go, Megan started messaging me. She apologized, said she hadn’t meant to make me uncomfortable. That she was just being friendly.”
“Friendly,” I repeated, arms crossed.
“I thought I might have misunderstood at first,” he continued. “I told her it was fine, but we’d continue with our new babysitter. Then she asked if she could see Simon… just to say hi.”
“What? You let her come see our son without telling me?”
“I… I was going to, but I thought you’d call me stupid. Simon was sad, and I thought one visit wouldn’t hurt.”
“And then?” I pressed.
Mike hesitated. That pause said everything.
“She started telling him to call her his ‘other mom.’ To keep it a secret. I felt sick. I told her to stop coming. But I… made a huge mistake.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded.
“When she cried, she said she’d fallen in love with me. I told her she should never come back. But… that gift Simon opened? I didn’t put it under the tree. She did.”
My stomach dropped. Megan had been in our house without our knowledge, touching our things, leaving a gift for our son as if she had a right to be part of our family.
Simon stepped into the kitchen. I could tell he’d been listening. “Mom, is the other mom bad?”
I knelt in front of him. “She’s… confused, sweetie.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.
“She came to see me at school,” Simon said. “She said she needed a key to our house for Christmas… so she could surprise us for Christmas dinner.”
Mike and I exchanged horrified looks. A key… That’s how she got in! And she’d been in our house. Could she have done something to our food?
I kissed Simon’s forehead. “Go pick another gift, honey. I need to finish talking to your dad.”
He nodded, slowly, and returned to the living room.
I turned back to Mike. “Screenshot every message Megan sent. Then call the cops. We’re going to her apartment.”
“What? You can’t just go there!”
“Yes, Mike! She broke into our house, manipulated Simon and you, and I have no idea what she might have done to our Christmas dinner!”
The drive felt surreal. Decorations blurred past, my mind racing. Megan lived just ten minutes away.
I knocked on her door. She froze when she saw me. Wearing an apron, a row of foil-covered dishes lined the counter behind her.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped, her eyes filled with hatred.
“I’m here because you broke into my house and manipulated my family.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Is that what Mike told you? And you believed him?”
Doubt hit me for a second, but the fear in Mike’s eyes earlier had been real.
She smirked. “Mike and I are in love. I’ve been cooking a special Christmas dinner for my boys. I just needed you out of the way.”
I realized coming alone had been a terrible idea.
Luckily, backup arrived. Two police officers appeared just as she lunged for me. I ran into their arms.
Megan was arrested, repeating that she had done nothing wrong and claiming Simon had asked her to be his ‘other mom.’
She was sentenced to probation with mandatory psychiatric treatment. There’s a restraining order—three years long.
Christmas that year taught me to never ignore the little voice in my head. Some traditions are sacred, and some surprises are deadly.