The Christmas tree lights twinkled gently, their colors glowing like little stars. I smiled, remembering how Lily and I had hung the ornaments just a week ago. She was so excited. I could already imagine her racing down the stairs, eyes wide with joy.
But… something felt wrong.
“Lily?” I called, glancing toward the staircase. No answer.
That was odd. She always woke up before me on Christmas morning.
Ten minutes passed… then fifteen… then thirty.
A heavy feeling grew in my chest. I set the spatula down and wiped my hands on a towel. I started walking to the stairs, a little faster now, my stomach tight with worry.
“Lily?” I called again, louder this time.
My heart thudded as I climbed the stairs. Each step felt heavier. Her room was at the end of the hallway. The door was slightly open. I gently pushed it.
“You awake, bug?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her favorite stuffed bunny, Buttons. Her small body was hunched over, and her hair covered her face like a curtain.
I knelt in front of her, my heart squeezing tight. “What’s wrong, baby girl?”
She didn’t look at me. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head slowly.
“I don’t want to,” she whispered.
At first, I thought she meant she didn’t want to get up. Maybe she was upset about something small. But then she said something that hit me like a punch to the chest.
“Grandpa told me the truth about Mom.”
I froze. “What truth? What do you mean?”
She looked up at me, her eyes full of sadness and fear.
“He said… he said Santa’s not real. And that Mom buys me presents because she feels bad about not being here. And that she doesn’t love me.”
The blood drained from my face. I pulled her into my arms right away.
“No, baby. No. That’s not true. None of that is true.” I hugged her tightly, running my hand down her back. Her little body shook as she held back tears.
“Your mom loves you more than anything in the whole world, you know that, right?” I said softly. “She loves you so much.”
Lily sniffled. “Then why isn’t she here?”
I wiped a tear from her cheek. “Because she’s out there helping people. But guess what? She’s coming home early today. Just for you. She’ll be here soon.”
I kissed the top of her head and gently laid her back on her pillow. As I brushed the hair from her face, I tried to calm the storm of thoughts in my head.
“You stay here and rest, okay? I’ll be right back. I need to call Grandpa.”
I left the room and grabbed my phone, hands shaking as I dialed my dad’s number.
He picked up right away. “Merry Christmas, son!” he said cheerfully. But then he added with a sharp edge, “I’d ask to talk to Sarah, but I assume she’s working again.”
“Yeah, she is,” I said, my voice colder than I meant it to be. “Merry Christmas, Dad. We need to talk.”
I tried to stay calm, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Why did you tell Lily that Sarah doesn’t care about her? It’s bad enough you told her Santa isn’t real. But making her doubt her own mom’s love? That’s not okay.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “That woman is never home. Always off saving strangers. What kind of mother does that?”
I clenched my jaw. My voice rose.
“A damn good one, that’s who! She works so hard to take care of us. She’s out there helping people who need her. 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.”
He muttered something, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I hung up.
I stood there for a second, trying to catch my breath. I was still angry, but I had things to do. Christmas wasn’t over. I still had a whole meal to cook.
Later that afternoon, while I was stirring the gravy, I heard the front door creak open.
I looked up—and there she was. Sarah.
She dropped her bag by the door and rushed to Lily, scooping her up into a huge hug. Lily laughed as Sarah spun her around, her face glowing with happiness.
I smiled so wide it hurt. Finally, the pressure in my chest began to lift.
That night, after the dishes were done and Lily was fast asleep, I sank into the couch. Exhausted. My phone was still in my hand. I stared at it for a moment, then called my dad again.
He answered after two rings. “You calling to apologize, son?” he said with that same smug voice.
I took a breath, calm but firm. “No, Dad. I’m calling to tell you something.”
I didn’t yell. I didn’t have to.
“If you ever make my daughter question her mother’s love again, you won’t be welcome in this house. Not on Christmas. Not ever.”
There was a long silence. Then he said, “Fine. Whatever.”
I hung up.
And this time, I felt something I hadn’t felt all day—relief.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I did the right thing. I protected Lily. I stood up for Sarah. And that’s what being a family is all about.
What do you think of the story? Did you feel for Lily and her parents? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear them.
