Just a month after my mother lost her battle with cancer, Dad brought his mistress home for Christmas and introduced her as my “NEW MOM.” My heart shattered, but it wasn’t the only thing that left me shaken.
My hands won’t stop trembling as I write this. I need to share about a Christmas dinner that turned into a nightmare and showed me how quickly a family can shatter. There are some moments you wish you could forget, but they end up teaching you the hardest lessons about life, grief, and what it means to move on.
An upset woman | Source: Pexels
It’s been exactly one month since we buried Mom. For three years she fought cancer, and even at the end, she never stopped being… Mom. I remember her last day so clearly — the beeping machines, the afternoon sunlight streaming through the hospital window, and how she squeezed my hand with surprising strength.
“Lily, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice raspy but determined. “Promise me something?”
“Anything, Mom.” I was trying so hard not to cry.
“Take care of your sisters. And your father… he doesn’t do well alone. Never has.” She smiled that soft smile of hers. “But make sure he remembers me?”
“How could anyone forget you?” I choked out.
That was our last real conversation. She slipped away the next morning, with my sisters Sarah and Katie holding one hand and me holding the other.
People at a funeral | Source: Pexels
The first week after the funeral, I moved back home. Dad seemed lost, wandering the house like a ghost. I’d find him standing near Mom’s closet, just staring at her clothes. Or sitting in her garden, touching the roses she’d tended so carefully.
“He’s not eating,” Katie reported during our daily sister check-in calls. “I brought over lasagna, and it’s still sitting untouched in the fridge.”
“Same with the casserole I made,” Sarah added. “Should we be worried?”
I thought we should be. But then everything changed.
It started small. Two weeks after the funeral, Dad cleaned out Mom’s closet without telling any of us. Just boxed everything up and dropped it at the local charity.
An empty wardrobe | Source: Pexels
“Her favorite sweater?” I asked, horrified when I found out. “The blue one she always wore for Christmas?”
“It’s just taking up space, Lily,” he said, suddenly practical. “Your mom wouldn’t want us dwelling.”
A few days later, he joined a gym. He started getting haircuts at some trendy place instead of the salon where Mom had known the owner for 20 years. He bought new clothes and even started humming while doing dishes. At 53, Dad was starting to act like a 20-year-old young man.
“He’s handling it differently,” Katie insisted during one of our emergency meetings at my apartment. “Everyone grieves in their own way.”
I was pacing, unable to sit still. “This isn’t grief. He’s acting like he just got released from prison instead of losing his wife of 30 years.”
A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
Sarah curled up on my couch and tried to keep peace. “Maybe he’s trying to stay strong for us? You know how Mom always worried about him being alone.”
“There’s a difference between being strong and whatever this is,” I said, watching through my window as night fell over the city. “Something’s not right.”
I had no idea how not right things were about to get.
“Girls,” Dad called us into the living room one evening, his voice weirdly excited. “Family meeting. I have something important to tell you.”
He’d gotten all dressed up — a new shirt, pressed slacks, and polished shoes. He’d even put on cologne. Mom’s picture smiled down from the mantel as we gathered, and I swear Dad’s eyes looked delighted.
A senior man in a suit | Source: Pexels
“I’ve met someone special,” he announced, practically bouncing on his feet. “Her name is Amanda, and I want you all to meet her.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Katie’s face went white. Sarah started fidgeting with her ring.
“What exactly do you mean you’ve met someone?” My voice came out strangled.
Dad’s smile never wavered. “I mean I’m not getting any younger, Lily. Life goes on. Amanda makes me happy, and I want her to be part of our family.”
“Part of our family?” Katie’s voice cracked. “Dad, Mom’s been gone for three weeks!”
“And what am I supposed to do?” He crossed his arms. “Sit alone in this empty house forever?”
A stunned young woman facing a man | Source: Midjourney
“Maybe grieve?” I suggested, my anger rising. “Remember your wife? Our mother?”
“I am grieving,” he snapped. “But I’m also living. Your mother wouldn’t want me to be lonely all my life, girls!”
“Don’t.” I stood up. “Don’t you dare tell us what Mom would want. You don’t get to use her to justify this.”
Dad just walked away, scowling, leaving the three of us in a daze.
A week later, he dropped the next bomb.
“Christmas dinner,” he announced over the phone. “I want Amanda to join us.”
Close-up of a man holding his coat | Source: Pexels
I nearly dropped my coffee mug. “You’re bringing her to Christmas dinner? Mom’s favorite holiday?”
“It’s the perfect time for everyone to meet,” he said, sounding irritatingly reasonable. “Amanda’s excited to meet you all. She’s even offered to help cook.”
“Help cook?” I gripped the phone tighter. “In Mom’s kitchen? Using Mom’s recipes?”
“Lily—”
“Mom’s been gone for four weeks, Dad. Four. Weeks.”
“And what should I do?” His voice rose. “Cancel Christmas? Sit alone while my daughters judge me?”
“Maybe respect Mom’s memory? Remember 30 years of marriage? The woman who spent last Christmas in the hospital still trying to make it special for everyone?”
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m still your father,” he said sharply. “And Amanda is coming to Christmas dinner. That’s final.”
“Fine.” I hung up and immediately called my sisters.
“He’s lost his mind,” Katie declared during our emergency video chat. “Completely lost it.”
Sarah looked like she might cry. “What do we do?”
I had an idea forming. A terrible, perfect idea.
Christmas Eve arrived cold and snowy. I spent the morning in Mom’s kitchen making her stuffing recipe. Every few minutes I caught myself turning to ask her a question, the grief hitting fresh each time I remembered she wasn’t there.
A woman decorating a Christmas tree | Source: Pexels
Katie arrived early to help, bringing Mom’s special tablecloth, the one with tiny embroidered holly leaves that Mom would spend hours ironing each year.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Katie admitted as we set the table. “Kept thinking about Mom, how she’d make us polish the silver until it sparkled.”
“Remember how she’d position everything just right?” Sarah added, arriving with pies. “The centerpiece had to be exactly in the middle.”
“And the photos,” I smiled sadly. “So many photos before anyone could eat.”
“Dad would complain his food was getting cold,” Katie laughed, then stopped abruptly. “God, I miss her.”
A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
The doorbell rang at exactly six. Dad rushed to answer it, checking his reflection in the hall mirror first.
“Everyone,” his voice boomed with pride, “this is Amanda.”
I was stunned. She couldn’t have been older than 25. Long blonde hair, expensive boots, perfect makeup. She looked like she could have been our younger sister. My father looked like he’d won the lottery.
“This is your new MOM!” He announced, his arm around her waist. “I hope you all got her something nice for Christmas!”
Katie dropped her wine glass. The red spread across Mom’s white tablecloth like a wound, the holly leaves disappearing under the stain.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Dinner was excruciating. Amanda kept trying to make a conversation, her voice high and nervous.
“This stuffing is amazing,” she said. “Family recipe?”
“My mother’s recipe,” I replied, emphasizing each word. “She made it every Christmas for 30 years. This was her favorite holiday.”
“Oh.” Amanda pushed food around her plate. “I’m so sorry about your loss. George told me—”
“George?” I cut her off with a wicked grin. “You mean Dad?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Lily!”
A woman grinning | Source: Midjourney
“No, I want to know… when exactly did he tell you about Mom? Before or after he asked you out?”
“Lily, stop,” Dad whispered.
“Did he tell you she spent three years fighting cancer? That she was still having chemo this time last year?” I couldn’t stop. “That she made him promise to keep our family together?”
“That’s enough!” Dad’s voice thundered across the table.
Amanda looked close to tears. “I should probably—”
“No, stay,” Dad insisted. “Family gets uncomfortable sometimes. That’s normal.”
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
“Family?” I laughed bitterly. “She’s practically my age, Dad. This isn’t family. It’s creepy.”
“Present time!” Dad announced after dinner, desperate to change the mood. He’d always played Santa, but watching him do it now felt wrong.
I watched Amanda open gifts — a scarf from Katie, a gift card from Sarah. Then she reached for my carefully wrapped box.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she gasped, lifting out the antique jewelry box. Mom’s favorite, the one she’d kept her wedding ring in. “Thank you, Lily. This is so thoughtful.”
“Open it,” I said softly. “There’s something special inside.”
A woman holding a gift box | Source: Pexels
The room fell silent as she lifted the lid. Inside lay a photograph of Mom in her garden last summer, surrounded by her roses and all three of us girls beside her. Her last good day before the hospital. Her smile was still bright and full of life, even though we knew what was coming.
Beneath it lay my note: “You are not my mother. No one will ever replace her. Remember that.”
Amanda’s hands started shaking. “I… I need to go.”
“Honey, wait—” Dad reached for her, but she was already running, leaving her coat and muffler behind as she fled into the snowy night.
A woman walking away | Source: Pexels
Dad came back inside alone, snow melting on his shoulders, his face ashen.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“I gave her a reality check,” I stood my ground. “Did you really think you could replace Mom with someone my age and we’d just accept it?”
“You had no right,” he growled. “You’re not letting me live my life!”
“Live your life? Mom’s been dead for four weeks! Her side of the bed isn’t even cold!” I was shouting now, years of watching Mom suffer, weeks of watching Dad move on, all pouring out at once. “Did you even love her?”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
“How dare you?” His voice broke. “I loved your mother for 30 years. I watched her fight. I watched her die. But she’s gone, Lily. She’s gone, and I’m still here. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not this,” I whispered, tears finally falling. “Anything but this.”
Katie and Sarah stood frozen, Christmas tree lights casting shadows on their tears. Outside, the snow continued to fall, covering Amanda’s footprints as she’d run away from our family’s broken pieces.
My dad blamed me for not letting him move on, but I think his actions were deeply disrespectful to my late mother. I firmly believe I did the right thing by defending her memory and making it unequivocally clear to Amanda that she could never fill my mother’s shoes.
A woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
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.
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
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
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?”
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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.”
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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
“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
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
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
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
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
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
***
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.
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“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
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?
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“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
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
“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
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.
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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
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
“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
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.”
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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
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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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