Christmas had always been my favorite time of year. The twinkling lights, the scent of pine, gingerbread cookies, and stockings filled with treats—it all felt magical. But this year, the magic was gone.
A few months ago, my dad remarried, and his new wife, Melanie, seemed determined to make me feel like an outsider in my own home. She wasn’t overtly cruel, but her passive-aggressive comments were enough to wear me down.
“Oh, Anna, is that what you’re wearing? Sweetheart, you might want to rethink that!” or “Your dad spoils you so much, doesn’t he? Enjoy it while it lasts.” Her words were wrapped in a sugary sweetness that left a bitter taste.
Still, I kept quiet for Dad’s sake. After losing Mom ten years ago, I told myself I could endure anything if it made him happy. For a while, I thought I could. But that changed a week before Christmas.
One evening, Dad pulled me aside with a serious expression. He handed me a beautifully wrapped box, shimmering gold foil and a red velvet bow.
“Anna,” he said, “I have something special for you this year.”
My curiosity piqued, I asked, “What is it, Dad?”
He smiled, though his eyes hinted at something unreadable. “It’s a surprise, kiddo. But I need you to promise me something.”
“Okay… what?”
“Don’t open it until Christmas morning,” he said. “Leave it under the tree, and think of me when you see it. I’ll be out of town for work, but I’ll call you first thing. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
“I promise,” I said eagerly.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Dad left for his trip. That night, I placed the gold-wrapped gift under the tree, eager for the morning.
On Christmas morning, I rushed downstairs to open Dad’s gift. But what I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Melanie was crouched in front of the tree, tearing into the gold-wrapped box.
“Melanie!” I exclaimed, my voice trembling. “That’s my gift!”
Without looking up, she said casually, “Oh, Anna, Merry Christmas! Your dad always spoils you. Let’s see if he finally got something useful—something I can use.”
“Stop! Dad said not to open it until morning. Please, it’s mine!”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh, Anna, you’re such a child. You don’t deserve half the things your dad gives you.”
Before I could stop her, she ripped off the wrapping and opened the box. Her smug smile instantly vanished as she froze.
I stepped closer, my breath caught. Inside was a black velvet ring box and an envelope with Melanie’s name written in Dad’s unmistakable handwriting.
Trembling, she opened the envelope and read aloud:
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