The Christmas tree lights flickered softly, casting a warm glow across the room. Their gentle pulses reminded me of the joy that Christmas usually brings, and I couldn’t help but imagine Lily’s face lighting up as she rushed down the stairs, her eyes filled with excitement. I had no doubt she would be the first one awake, eager to see what Santa had left under the tree.

But something felt off.

“Lily?” I called, glancing toward the staircase. No response. That was strange. Lily was always awake before me on Christmas morning.

Minutes passed. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

A feeling of unease crept into my chest. I set the spatula down, wiping my hands on a dish towel as my mind raced. Where could she be?

“Lily?” I called, my voice rising slightly. I stepped toward the stairs, calling her name again. This time, my voice echoed in the quiet house. Her room was at the end of the hallway, the door slightly ajar. “You awake, bug?” I nudged the door open gently.

There she was, sitting at the edge of her bed, still in her soft fleece penguin pajamas. Her teddy bunny, Buttons, hung limp in her tiny hands, and her head was lowered, her hair cascading like a curtain across her face. I knelt down in front of her, my heart pounding. “What’s wrong, baby girl?”

She didn’t look up. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she shook her head slowly.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A sinking feeling in my stomach deepened, and I crouched down to her level, tilting my head so I could meet her eyes. For a moment, I thought she might stay silent, but then she spoke again, her words soft and hesitant. “Grandpa told me the truth about Mom.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? What’s the truth?”

Lily hesitated, looking up at me, her eyes searching my face for my reaction. “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.”

My breath caught in my throat. Anger surged through me like a wildfire, but I forced myself to stay calm. I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, trying to steady my shaking hands. “That’s not true, honey. None of that is true,” I said, my voice steady, though my chest was tight with emotion. I gently stroked her back, trying to soothe her as she sniffled into my shirt.

“You know your mom loves you so much, right? More than anything in this world,” I whispered, feeling a lump in my throat. “She’s just working hard to help people, like she always does. She’s coming home early today, just for you.”

She sniffled again, her little body trembling. “Then why isn’t she here?”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because she’s helping people who need her. But she’s coming home, sweetheart. I promise.”

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Lily’s sobs slowed, and she calmed down enough for me to lay her back in bed. I brushed the hair away from her face and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to call Grandpa, okay? You rest here, sweetie.”

I walked out of her room, the anger still boiling inside me. I grabbed my phone, dialing my dad’s number with shaky hands. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Merry Christmas, son!” he said, far too cheerfully for my liking. “I would ask to speak to Sarah, but I imagine she’s working, as usual.”

“Yeah, she is working today,” I replied, my voice colder than I intended. “Merry Christmas, Dad. We need to talk.” I paused, trying to keep my voice calm. “Why on earth 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 mother’s love? That’s just cruel.”

My dad’s voice turned defensive. “That woman is never home, always out there saving strangers. What kind of mother does that?”

“She’s a mother who works hard to support her family!” I snapped, my anger finally breaking through. “She’s been working extra shifts to help her parents. You don’t get to tear her down just because you don’t understand what she’s doing.”

I finished the call, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. My heart was still racing, but I couldn’t let it go. Lily was my priority, and I wouldn’t let anyone make her feel unloved or unwanted, not even my father.

Later that afternoon, as I stood in the kitchen making gravy, I heard the familiar creak of the front door. I turned just in time to see Sarah step inside, her bag falling to the floor with a soft thud. Lily was in her arms, mid-leap, and I watched them embrace as though the world had fallen into place. My heart lightened, and the tightness in my chest finally eased. Sarah had made it home early, just as she promised.

That night, after Lily had gone to bed and we’d finished cleaning up from Christmas dinner, I sank into the couch, phone still in hand, a storm of emotions swirling inside me. I dialed my dad’s number again, my finger hovering over the screen for a moment before I hit call. He picked up on the second ring.

“Calling to apologize, son?” he asked, his tone sarcastic.

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m calling to tell you that if you ever make my daughter doubt her mother’s love again, you will not be welcome in this house. Not on Christmas. Not on any day.”

For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had done something right for my family. I hung up the phone and leaned back on the couch, taking a deep breath. The weight in my chest had finally lifted.

The rest of Christmas went off without a hitch. Lily was overjoyed to have her mom home, and Sarah and I spent the evening cuddled on the couch, enjoying the peace and quiet. No more doubt, no more anger, just love. And that was all that mattered.

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