Christmas had always been my favorite time of year. Twinkling lights, the scent of pine, gingerbread cookies, and stockings filled with treats—it all felt magical. But this year was different. The magic was gone.
My dad had remarried a few months ago, and his new wife, Melanie, made it her mission to make me feel like an outsider in my own home. She wasn’t overtly cruel, like the stepmothers you see in movies, but her passive-aggressive comments were sharp enough to chip away at anyone’s confidence.
“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 dripped with saccharine sweetness that turned my stomach.
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. And for a while, I thought I could. But that changed a week before Christmas.
One evening, Dad pulled me aside with an unusually serious expression. He handed me a beautifully wrapped box, gold foil shimmering under the light, and tied with a red velvet bow.
“Anna,” he said, “I have something special for you this year.”
My curiosity peaked. “What is it, Dad?”
He smiled, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of 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 that morning. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
I nodded eagerly. “I promise.”
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 to arrive.
When Christmas morning came, I rushed downstairs, ready 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 turning around, she replied nonchalantly, “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 lid. Her smug smile instantly vanished, replaced by a look of horror.