Secret Santa Asks Single Mom on a Date, but His True Identity Changes Everything — Story of the Day

I never imagined a simple Christmas wish would turn my world upside down. But when it led me to a date with Santa, followed by unexpected secrets and a jealous friend’s schemes, I was entangled in surprises I never saw coming.

The shopping mall sparkled like something out of a fairytale. Thousands of lights twinkled across every corner, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and cinnamon.

I glanced down at my four-year-old son, Oliver, and couldn’t help but smile. He adored Christmas. His eyes held a childlike wonder and belief in all the little magical moments that made the season so special.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Raising Oliver on my own had been both a challenge and a gift. We had each other, and I tried to make his childhood as warm and bright as possible, even when life got tough.

He was that part of my heart that kept me grounded, reminding me that joy could be found in even the smallest things. We were a team, always cheering each other on. As we strolled through the crowds, Oliver suddenly stopped.

“Mom, look! It’s Santa!”

He pointed eagerly to the big red-suited figure sitting on a golden chair, surrounded by a line of children.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He looked up at me, his face beaming with hope. “Can we go talk to him? Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” I replied, smiling down at him as we took our place in line. Oliver fidgeted in excitement, looking up at me with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

“I have something really important to tell him, Mom,” he whispered, clutching my hand tightly.

“Something special?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He nodded, his face serious. Whatever he wanted to say, it meant a lot to him. Finally, Oliver approached Santa, glancing back at me before leaning in close to whisper to him.

I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw Santa’s eyes soften, his expression shifting to a kind and gentle smile as he listened. After their moment together, I bent down to Oliver, curiosity bubbling up.

“So,” I asked softly, brushing a lock of his hair from his face. “What did you tell Santa?”

“I can’t tell you, Mom,” Oliver whispered, grinning. “If I tell you, it might not come true!”

I laughed, nodding. “Alright, alright. Well, since you’re keeping secrets, how about we go grab a burger to share? I’m starving.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He practically jumped with excitement. “Yes! Can I get fries, too?”

“Fries? Of course,” I replied, holding his hand as we made our way to the food court.

As we settled in and started digging into our food, I caught a flash of red from the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw Santa himself standing by our table and holding an ice cream.

“Would you two mind if I joined you for a while?” he asked, looking between us.

Oliver looked up at me. “Can he, Mom? Can he?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Of course,” I said, smiling at Santa. “Please, join us.”

Santa pulled up a chair and sat down across from Oliver, who stared at him with awe.

“So, Oliver,” Santa began, leaning in as if to share a secret, “what’s your favorite Christmas treat?”

“Oh, that’s easy! Chocolate chip cookies! Especially the big ones Mom makes.”

Santa chuckled, licking his ice cream. “Sounds like your mom knows what she’s doing. I have to agree—chocolate chip cookies are hard to beat.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Oliver nodded. “And what’s your favorite, Santa?”

“Oh, now that’s a tough question,” Santa replied, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I think… hot cocoa, with a mountain of ice cream on top.”

I felt a warm smile spread across my face, watching how easily he connected with Oliver. We spent a while like that, laughing and chatting.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

After we finished eating, Santa turned to me with a gentle smile. “How about a little more holiday fun?”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Like, at the amusement park?”

Santa grinned. “Exactly! How about some ice skating?”

Oliver turned to me, practically buzzing. “Mom, please! Can we?”

I couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s go!”

At the rink, Oliver held tightly onto both our hands, wobbling on his skates as we took our first few laps.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Santa’s hearty laughter echoed, steady and joyful, each time Oliver let out a triumphant cheer after staying upright.

“You’re doing great, Oliver!” Santa said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Oliver beamed. “I feel like I’m flying!”

As the evening continued, we wandered through paths lined with sparkling lights, gazing up at reindeer, snowflakes, and candy canes glowing against the night sky.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Oliver skipped ahead, and I couldn’t help but notice how Santa kept his costume on the whole time, staying completely in character.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said softly to Santa when Oliver was busy watching a display of twinkling stars. “It means the world to him… and to me.”

“It’s my pleasure. Tonight has been a gift for me too.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Eventually, the time came for us to head home. Santa walked us the whole way, keeping Oliver entertained with little stories about life at the North Pole. As we reached our front door, Santa knelt, looking into Oliver’s eyes.

“I’ll do my very best to make your wish come true,” he said, giving Oliver a wink.

“Thank you, Santa! You’re the best.”

Before I could say a word, he took my hand, and with a gentle, sincere look, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss on my knuckles. As he walked away, his red coat blending into the soft glow of streetlights, I felt a flutter of happiness and warmth.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

Days went by, and although I kept myself busy, I couldn’t shake that evening with Santa from my mind. I didn’t fully understand it, but I felt drawn back to the mall, maybe just to see him one more time.

As I wandered the holiday displays, I suddenly heard a familiar voice.

“Laura? Is that you?”

I turned and found myself face-to-face with Mia, an old childhood friend.

“Mia! Wow, it’s been ages!” I hugged her, delighted.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, that’s true!” she replied. “Let’s catch up over coffee.”

We settled in, and before I knew it, I was telling her all about that night with Santa—how he’d been so kind to Oliver and how, well… I’d felt something special.

Mia’s eyes widened. “Laura, this is amazing! You have to find out who this Santa really is.”

“Oh, Mia. He’s probably just someone doing his holiday job.”

She nudged me. “Look! He’s right over there. Go say hi!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Before I could stop her, Mia gave me a gentle push toward Santa. Blushing, I looked over, and… Santa noticed me and waved.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite family from the other night,” he said, smiling warmly as he approached.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Would you like to go out for coffee with me sometime?”

A date with Santa?

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Sure.”

When I turned to share my excitement with Mia, I saw she’d disappeared into a nearby clothing store.

***

That evening, a courier arrived at my door with a small card. It was an invitation, in neat handwriting, for a Christmas Eve date at a cozy café. My heart leaped with nerves. I quickly called Mia.

“Should I go? It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Laura, you’d be crazy not to! You can still be home with Oliver afterward. This is your chance!”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Her words stayed with me, filling me with courage. I dressed up, arranged for Oliver’s nanny to stay with him, and headed off for my Christmas Eve date.

***

That evening, I arrived at the café full of excitement and quiet hope. I was pleasantly surprised! He was handsome, charming, and carried himself with an easy grace.

For a moment, I felt like a character in one of those holiday romance movies, swept away by a little Christmas magic. But minutes later, my gaze landed on a glint of metal on his left hand. A wedding ring!

“So… are you… married?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Yes,” he replied nonchalantly, as if we were discussing the weather. “But they’re away for the holidays. A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

I felt my face heat up. “Excuse me?”

“No need to look so serious.”

Without another word, I grabbed my coat and bag and hurried out of the café, barely holding back tears. What had started as a night full of promise had soured so quickly.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I walked through the city streets, the chill air and bright lights doing nothing to lift my spirits. When I finally walked home, Oliver’s face lit up.

“Mom! Santa’s here! Look!”

My breath caught as I looked over and saw… our Santa from the mall!

“How dare you!” I snapped. “You’ve ruined enough for one night. Get out. And stay away from us.”

Santa stormed off, and Oliver ran off upstairs, his disappointment clear.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The nanny shook her head. “He spent the whole day making Oliver happy… maybe that’s worth something.”

I was confused and ashamed.

But if he’d been here all day, then who was at the café?

***

Overwhelmed with suspicion and regret, I set off to Mia’s house, determined to get answers. When I arrived and saw a man in a Santa costume standing outside, I stopped short. He wasn’t the one I’d met at the café.

“Oh, God…” I whispered.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I kicked out the wrong Santa! But with the costume, who could’ve known?

I stepped closer. The man with a sad smile was watching a young boy playing in the yard.

“My name’s Jack,” he explained. “This is… well, this is my son’s home.”

I felt my heart sink as I put the pieces together. “Your son?”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the boy.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mia’s my ex-wife. She doesn’t allow me to see him often. Playing Santa was my only chance to maybe… hold him if he came to make a wish.”

I gasped. “You’re the Santa from the mall! The one who spent the evening with us?”

“That’s me. Mia found out and came over, demanding more child support. That’s when she must have run into you.”

“Oh my god! She set me up! She must have sent that awful man to the café to make sure I’d never see you again.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Jack sighed. “Mia gave me an ultimatum. Either I return to her, or she’ll cut me off from my son for good.”

“She did all this because she was jealous? That’s… that’s horrible!”

“After she threatened me, I thought I’d at least come spend Christmas Eve with you and Oliver.” He looked up, his eyes earnest. “I haven’t felt so happy in years as I did that night with you both.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what to say. Everything I’d assumed was wrong. Finally, I managed, “I’m sorry, Jack. I… I should trust my heart.”

“It’s okay. The night isn’t over yet.”

We picked up Oliver and went to Jack’s home, where he’d prepared a beautiful holiday feast, a tree lit with warm lights, and gifts waiting under it.

That night became a true holiday filled with laughter, warmth, and the family joy we’d all been missing.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When I arrived to support my friend after she split up with a con man, I never imagined I’d be caught in a web of deception myself. Her tears and the details of her betrayal filled me with sympathy, but little did I know this visit would change my life forever. Read the full story here.

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My Husband Found a 17-Year-Old Letter in a Bottle While Fishing — Reading It Sent Him to Find Its Late Author’s House

When my husband found a dusty old bottle floating in the lake, we never imagined it would send us on a journey straight out of a mystery novel. The letter inside spoke of betrayal, hidden treasure, and a life on the brink. Eventually, its contents dragged us into the eerie remnants of a stranger’s past.

I had just curled up on the couch with my favorite book and a hot cup of tea in hand. The house was quiet, the way I liked it when Tom was out fishing. Through the open window, I could hear birds chirping, and the cool lake breeze carried the scent of pine.

A woman drinking tea with a book | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking tea with a book | Source: Pexels

Tom had left before dawn, as usual, with his tackle box and that old fishing rod he still refuses to replace. He never caught much, but he loved that it was just him, the water, and the quiet. I figured he’d be back around dinner, like always.

But this day was anything but regular.

A man fishing | Source: Pexels

A man fishing | Source: Pexels

The sound of the door bursting open made me jump, nearly spilling my tea. Tom came rushing in, out of breath, his boots thudding across the floor. His grin stretched ear to ear, and his eyes sparkled like he’d just found buried treasure.

“Katie! Honey! Get ready — we’re going to the next town over!” he shouted, holding something behind his back.

A happy man coming home | Source: Freepik

A happy man coming home | Source: Freepik

“What on earth are you talking about?” I asked, setting down my tea. “What’s going on?”

“Look!” he said, pulling a dusty old bottle out from behind him. The glass was foggy, but I could see a yellowed piece of paper curled inside.

I stared at him, then at the bottle. “What is that?”

“It’s a letter!” he said, practically buzzing with excitement. “I found it out on the lake! You won’t believe what it says.”

A bottle with a note | Source: Freepik

A bottle with a note | Source: Freepik

Tom and I have been married for twelve years, and life with him has always been a little unpredictable. He’s the kind of guy who can turn a simple walk into an adventure. I’m the opposite. Careful, steady, always thinking things through.

But somehow, we balance each other out.

A couple talking | Source: Pexels

A couple talking | Source: Pexels

What we both share, though, is a love for stories. Whether it’s a mystery novel, a family tale, or even a rumor in town, we’re both suckers for a good narrative. That’s probably why I didn’t stop him right away when he said we needed to drive to another town because of a letter in a bottle.

Still, I wasn’t about to let him drag me into something ridiculous without knowing more. “All right,” I said, crossing my arms. “What’s so important that you’re ready to drive twenty miles for it?”

Couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

Couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels

Tom’s grin grew even wider. “You have to read it to believe it.”

Tom plopped down in his favorite chair, the bottle clutched in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. “So, there I was,” he started, “out by the reeds on the north side of the lake. You know the spot?”

I nodded.

A couple having an argument | Source: Pexels

A couple having an argument | Source: Pexels

“I was reeling in my line when I saw this thing bobbing in the water. At first, I thought it was just trash, but when I got closer, I saw the paper inside. I nearly tipped the boat getting it! Just listen.” He pulled the cork from the bottle and carefully slid out the brittle paper.

The letter was faded, the edges crumbling slightly, but the words were still readable. Tom cleared his throat and began:

An old letter | Source: Pexels

An old letter | Source: Pexels

“My friends called me “The Joker.” That was my code name in our gang. I will probably die tomorrow. I have no relatives, and all my friends betrayed me. We recently robbed a jewelry store, and all the jewelry is now in my basement. I want it to go to the person who found this message. Congratulations, lucky guy!”

Tom looked up at me, his face alight with excitement. “Can you believe it?”

A man reading a letter | Source: Freepik

A man reading a letter | Source: Freepik

I blinked. “Wait… What? A gang? Jewelry? Are you serious?”

“That’s what it says!” he replied, holding the letter out to me.

I took it, scanning the words myself. The handwriting was shaky, almost desperate, and the whole thing sent a shiver down my spine. “Tom, this could be a prank. Or… I don’t know, shouldn’t we call the police?”

A woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels

A woman reading a letter | Source: Pexels

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “This is our story now! We’re going to the house in the letter!”

“Tom!” I exclaimed. “We don’t even know if the house is still there—or if any of this is real!”

“Only one way to find out,” he said, standing up and grabbing his keys.

I sighed, holding the letter tightly. Tom was stubborn, and once he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him. Against my better judgment, I grabbed my jacket.

A couple getting ready to leave | Source: Pexels

A couple getting ready to leave | Source: Pexels

“Fine,” I said, glaring at him. “But if this turns out to be nothing, you’re buying me dinner.”

“Deal,” he said, already halfway out the door.

The house stood before us like something out of an old ghost story—its paint chipped, windows cloudy, and the yard overgrown with weeds. “Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, “this definitely fits the description of ‘rundown.’”

A rundown house | Source: Pexels

A rundown house | Source: Pexels

Tom grinned, unfazed by the eerie sight. “Come on, Katie. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back in the car,” I muttered.

The front door creaked as Tom pushed it open, revealing a dim, dusty interior. The air was thick with the smell of mildew, and the wooden floors groaned under each step. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls, and the shadows seemed to stretch endlessly.

An abandoned house | Source: Pexels

An abandoned house | Source: Pexels

Tom waved his flashlight around. “Let’s find the basement doors,” he said, his voice full of excitement.

“Sure,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder. “Let’s just ignore the fact that this place could collapse on us at any second.”

A woman in an abandoned house | Source: Freepik

A woman in an abandoned house | Source: Freepik

We found the basement doors exactly where the letter had said they would be. They were old and heavy, their brass handles tarnished with age. Tom knelt down and began tapping on the floorboards near the doors.

“This better not be a wild goose chase,” I said, crossing my arms.

A man searching the floor | Source: Midjourney

A man searching the floor | Source: Midjourney

“Trust me,” Tom replied, grinning as he pried up a loose board. His eyes lit up as he pulled out an old, rusty key. “Jackpot.”

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting with a mix of fear and curiosity. “Are we really doing this?”

Without answering, Tom slid the key into the lock. It resisted for a moment before finally turning with a loud click. He gave me a triumphant look before pulling the doors open.

A man holding a rusty key | Source: Pexels

A man holding a rusty key | Source: Pexels

The hinges groaned loudly, the sound echoing through the house. A rush of stale, cold air hit us, carrying the scent of dirt and something faintly metallic.

“After you,” I said, gesturing toward the dark abyss.

Tom laughed nervously. “Ladies first?”

“No way.”

An old rusty door | Source: Pexels

An old rusty door | Source: Pexels

He started down the narrow staircase, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. I followed closely, clutching the railing as the wooden steps creaked under our weight. The basement was damp, with cobwebs hanging from the low ceiling. They were so dense they almost looked like curtains. Dust floated in the air, glinting in the flashlight’s beam.

Tom shined the light across the room, revealing dusty shelves and piles of old boxes. “Let’s look around,” he said.

An old basement | Source: Pexels

An old basement | Source: Pexels

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I muttered, brushing a cobweb off my sleeve.

As we scanned the basement, something on the far wall caught my eye—a folded piece of paper pinned to a wooden beam. “Tom,” I said, pointing.

He hurried over and pulled it free. “It’s another letter!”

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his arm. “Maybe we should think about this.”

A folded note | Source: Midjourney

A folded note | Source: Midjourney

But Tom was already unfolding the paper. His flashlight beam danced across the handwritten words as he read aloud:

“Looking for easy money? Hahaha. The only thing true in my letter was that my friends called me THE JOKER! Hahaha.”

Tom’s voice trailed off, and we stared at each other in stunned silence.

A man reading a note | Source: Freepik

A man reading a note | Source: Freepik

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I finally said, throwing up my hands. “All of this—for a prank?!”

Tom let out a laugh, one of those uncontrollable ones that you get when you’re both frustrated and amazed. “It’s kind of brilliant, don’t you think?”

As we made our way back to the car, an elderly man emerged from the neighboring house, leaning on a cane. He waved and shuffled toward us.

An elderly man outside of his house | Source: Pexels

An elderly man outside of his house | Source: Pexels

“You two find what you were looking for?” he asked, his voice raspy but kind.

“Not exactly,” Tom replied. “Do you know who used to live here?”

The man smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Oh, you must’ve found one of Harold’s little pranks.”

“Harold?” I asked.

Smiling elderly man | Source: Pexels

Smiling elderly man | Source: Pexels

“Yep,” the man said with a chuckle. “Harold lived here for decades. We all called him ‘The Joker.’ He was always pulling stunts—fake treasure maps, phony letters, stuff like that. Kept us on our toes. Died about five years ago, though.”

I glanced at Tom, who was grinning ear to ear. “Sounds like he was quite the character.”

“Oh, he was,” the man said. “Always said life was too short to take seriously. Looks like he got you two good!”

A laughing man in a black suit | Source: Pexels

A laughing man in a black suit | Source: Pexels

We laughed with him, and for a moment, I could almost picture Harold, somewhere out there, having a good chuckle at our expense.

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: A freezing night and a simple act of kindness brought a homeless man named Jeff into Ellie’s home and her life. But as their bond grew, an unexpected discovery unraveled secrets from the past.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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