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.”
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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.
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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.”
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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.
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***
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!”
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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.
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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.
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“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.”
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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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My Daughter and Son-in-Law Died 2 Years Ago – Then, One Day, My Grandkids Shouted, ‘Grandma, Look, That’s Our Mom and Dad!’
Georgia was at the beach with her grandkids when they suddenly pointed toward a nearby café. Her heart skipped a beat as they shouted the words that would shatter her world. The couple in the café looked exactly like their parents who had died two years ago.
Grief changes you in ways you never expect. Some days, it’s a dull ache in your chest. Other days, it blindsides you like a sucker punch to the heart.
A woman sitting in her house | Source: Midjourney
That summer morning in my kitchen, staring at an anonymous letter, I felt something entirely different. I think it was hope mixed with a little bit of terror.
My hands trembled as I read those five words again, “They’re not really gone.”
The crisp white paper felt like it was burning my fingers. I thought I’d been managing my grief, trying to create a stable life for my grandkids, Andy and Peter, after losing my daughter, Monica, and her husband, Stephen. But this note made me realize how wrong I was.
Two brothers playing with toys | Source: Pexels
They got into an accident two years ago. I still remember how Andy and Peter kept asking me where their parents were and when they’d return.
It took me so many months to make them understand their mom and dad would never return. It broke my heart as I told them they’d have to manage things on their own now, and that I’d be there for them whenever they needed their parents.
After all the hard work I’d put in, I received this anonymous letter that claimed Monica and Stephan were still alive.
An envelope | Source: Pexels
“They’re… not really gone?” I whispered to myself, sinking into my kitchen chair. “What kind of sick game is this?”
I had crumpled the paper and was about to throw it away when my phone buzzed.
It was my credit card company, alerting me to a charge on Monica’s old card. The one I’d kept active just to hold onto a piece of her.
“How is that even possible?” I whispered. “I’ve had this card for two years. How can someone use it when it’s been sitting in the drawer?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I immediately called the bank’s customer support helpline.
“Hello, this is Billy speaking. How may I help you?” the customer service representative answered.
“Hi. I, uh, wanted to verify this recent transaction on my daughter’s card,” I said.
“Of course. May I have the first six and last four digits of the card number and your relationship to the account holder?” Billy asked.
I gave him the details, explaining, “I’m her mother. She… passed away two years ago, and I’ve been managing her remaining accounts.”
An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
There was a pause on the line, and then Billy spoke carefully. “I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am. I don’t see a transaction on this card. The one you’re talking about has been made using a virtual card linked to the account.”
“A virtual card?” I asked, frowning. “But I never linked one to this account. How can a virtual card be active when I have the physical card here?”
“Virtual cards are separate from the physical card, so they can continue to function independently unless deactivated. Would you like me to cancel the virtual card for you?” Billy asked gently.
A customer care representative | Source: Pexels
“No, no,” I managed to speak. I didn’t want to cancel the card thinking Monica must’ve activated it when she was alive. “Please leave it active. Could you tell me when the virtual card was created?”
There was a pause as he checked. “It was activated a week before the date you mentioned your daughter passed.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “Thank you, Billy. That’ll be all for now.”
Then, I called my closest friend Ella. I told her about the strange letter and the transaction on Monica’s card.
An older woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
“That’s impossible,” Ella gasped. “Could it be a mistake?”
“It’s like someone wants me to believe Monica and Stephan are out there somewhere, just hiding. But why would they… why would anyone do that?”
The charge wasn’t large. It was just $23.50 at a local coffee shop. Part of me wanted to visit the shop and find out more about the transaction, but part of me was afraid I’d find out something I wasn’t supposed to know.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I thought I’d look into this matter on the weekend, but what happened on Saturday turned my world upside down.
Andy and Peter wanted to go to the beach on Saturday, so I took them there. Ella had agreed to meet us there to help me look after the kids.
The ocean breeze carried the salt spray as the children splashed in the shallow waves, their laughter echoing across the sand. It was the first time in ages I’d heard them so carefree.
A kid standing near a sand castle | Source: Pexels
Ella lounged on her beach towel beside me, both of us watching the kids play.
I was showing her the anonymous letter when I heard Andy shout.
“Grandma, look!” he grabbed Peter’s hand, pointing toward the beachfront café. “That’s our mom and dad!”
My heart stopped. There, barely thirty feet away, sat a woman with Monica’s dyed hair and graceful posture, leaning toward a man who could easily ihave been Stephan’s twin.
They were sharing a plate of fresh fruit.
A plate of sliced fruits | Source: Pexels
“Please, watch them for a bit,” I said to Ella, urgency making my voice crack. She agreed without question, though concern filled her eyes.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I told the boys. “You can sunbathe here. Stay close to Ella, okay?”
The kids nodded and I turned toward the couple in the café.
My heart skipped a beat as they stood and walked down a narrow path lined with sea oats and wild roses. My feet moved of their own accord, following at a distance.
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They walked close together, whispering, and occasionally laughing. The woman tucked her hair behind her ear exactly like Monica always had. The man had Stephan’s slight limp from his college football injury.
Then I heard them talk.
“It’s risky, but we had no choice, Emily,” the man said.
Emily? I thought. Why is he calling her Emily?
They turned down a shell-lined path toward a cottage covered in flowering grapevines.
“I know,” the woman sighed. “But I miss them… especially the boys.”
A woman standing outdoors | Source: Pexels
I gripped the wooden fence surrounding the cottage, my knuckles white.
It is you, I thought. But why… why would you do this?
Once they went inside the cottage, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. The dispatcher listened patiently as I explained the impossible situation.
I stayed by the fence and listened for more proof. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
Finally, gathering every ounce of courage I possessed, I approached the cottage door and rang the doorbell.
For a moment, there was silence, then footsteps approached.
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The door swung open, and there stood my daughter. Her face drained of color as she recognized me.
“Mom?” she gasped. “What… how did you find us?”
Before I could respond, Stephan appeared behind her. Then, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air.
“How could you?” My voice trembled with rage and grief. “How could you leave your own children behind? Do you have any idea what you put us through?”
The police cars pulled up, and two officers approached quickly but cautiously.
A police car | Source: Pexels
“I think we’ll need to ask some questions,” one said, looking between us. “This… this is not something we see every day.”
Monica and Stephan, who had changed their names to Emily and Anthony, spilled out their story in bits and pieces.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Monica said, her voice wavering. “We were… we were drowning, you know? The debts, the loan sharks… they kept coming, demanding more. We tried everything, but it just got worse.”
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
Stephan sighed. “They didn’t just want money. They were threatening us, and we didn’t want to drag the kids into the mess we created.”
Monica continued, tears trickling down her cheeks. “We thought if we left, we’d be giving the kids a better, more stable life. We thought they’d be better off without us. Leaving them behind was the hardest thing we ever did.”
They confessed that they had staged the accident to look like they’d fallen off a cliff into the river, hoping the police would soon stop searching and they’d be presumed dead.
A man standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
They explained how they moved to another town to start fresh and had even changed their names.
“But I couldn’t stop thinking about my babies,” Monica admitted. “I needed to see them, so we rented this cottage for a week, just to be close to them.”
My heart broke as I listened to their story, but anger simmered beneath my sympathy. I couldn’t help but believe there had to be a better way to deal with the loan sharks.
An older woman | Source: Midjourney
Once they confessed everything, I texted Ella our location, and soon her car pulled up with Andy and Peter. The children burst out, and their faces lit up with joy as they recognized their parents.
“Mom! Dad!” they shouted, running toward their parents. “You’re here! We knew you’d come back!”
Monica looked at them and tears welled up in her eyes. She was meeting her kids after two years.
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, my sweet boys… I missed you so much. I’m so sorry,” she said, hugging them.
I watched the scene unfold, whispering to myself, “But at what cost, Monica? What have you done?”
The police allowed the brief reunion before pulling Monica and Stephen aside. The senior officer turned to me with sympathy in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but they could face some serious charges here. They’ve broken a lot of laws.”
“And my grandchildren?” I asked, watching Andy and Peter’s confused faces as their parents were separated from them again. “How do I explain any of this to them? They’re just kids.”
A worried older woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s something you’ll have to decide,” he said gently. “But the truth is bound to come out eventually.”
Later that night, after tucking the children into bed, I sat alone in my living room. The anonymous letter lay on the coffee table before me, its message now holding a different kind of weight.
I picked it up, reading those five words one more time, “They’re not really gone.”
I still didn’t know who had sent it, but they were right.
A woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Monica and Stephan weren’t gone. They’d chosen to leave. And somehow, that felt worse than knowing they weren’t alive.
“I don’t know if I can protect the kids from the sadness,” I whispered to the quiet room, “but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”
Now, I sometimes feel I shouldn’t have called the cops. Part of me thinks I could’ve let my daughter live the life she wanted, but part of me wanted her to realize what she did was wrong.
Do you think I did the right thing by calling the cops? What would you have done if you were in my place?
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: While Claire is dropping her kids off at summer camp, she gets a devastating phone call. Her 67-year-old mother, an Alzheimer’s patient, is missing. After three days of looking for Edith, police officers bring her home, and only then does the old woman reveal a horrible truth about Claire’s husband.
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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