I Hired a Man to Wish My Son a Merry Christmas as Santa Claus and I Noticed He Had the Same Birthmark as My Son

I hired the same Santa actor to come to our house for three years straight. But it was only last Christmas Eve that I stumbled upon him in the bathroom and discovered why he was so dedicated to us… actually, to my son.

Real life is often stranger than fiction. Hello there! My name is Elara, and I was 34 when this happened last year. First, some quick background: I adopted my son, Dylan, when he was six months old. That was already eight years ago.

A baby | Source: Pexels

A baby | Source: Pexels

The adoption agency found him on their doorstep (yeah, like a movie, I know) with just a note saying his name was Martin.

He was still a baby, so I decided to rename him Dylan, and it’s been just us against the world ever since. It’s hard raising a child on my own, but it’s been the most rewarding time in my life.

Every holiday became more special since I adopted him, and my favorite was Christmas. Dylan was a fuzzy baby, and I hate crowds, so instead of going to the mall, I started searching for a Santa I could hire for a photo.

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

I discovered a photography studio that had its own actor, and I took my son there. However, as Dylan grew up, I thought about mixing things up.

Over three years ago, as I was still trying to come up with ideas for better Christmas traditions, I found a flyer stuck on my doorstep. It said: “Professional actor available to visit your home dressed as Santa Claus to surprise your child.”

There was a name and a phone number, and honestly? It felt heaven-sent. So, I called, and soon, Harold entered our lives.

A flyer | Source: Midjourney

A flyer | Source: Midjourney

He showed up that first Christmas in a Santa suit that was a little too big for him. But it was exactly what I had in mind. Dylan was five, and he totally thought it was the real Santa.

He dragged Santa around our tiny living room and showed him every single ornament on our small, weirdly decorated tree. Meanwhile, I watched from the old, thrifted couch.

But looking back, I should’ve noticed the red flags. That day, Harold stayed for THREE HOURS. He built block towers with Dylan, read stories, and even helped bake cookies.

Christmas cookies | Source: Pexels

Christmas cookies | Source: Pexels

I tried to pay him extra (which I honestly couldn’t really afford), but he straight up refused and asked me to please call him next Christmas.

A year later, I did just that, and Harold was surprisingly still in business. Most kids get a rushed mall Santa photo, right? Not Dylan.

He got personal playtime with Santa in our living room. But, I kept thinking, “Doesn’t this guy have other houses to visit?”

Santa sitting in a living room, playing with a boy | Source: Midjourney

Santa sitting in a living room, playing with a boy | Source: Midjourney

One time I asked him about it. “You really don’t have to stay this long. Other families must be waiting,” I hinted, trying to be subtle about it.

He just smiled and said, “Oh no, Christmas Eve is reserved just for special boys like Dylan.” Again, looking back now… yeah. Something was up.

Dylan also became used to his Santa privilege and went ALL IN on these visits. He would deep clean his room (I mean, as best as a kid could) and do extra chores. As he told me, “Santa would want to see I’m being good.”

A boy helping with laundry | Source: Pexels

A boy helping with laundry | Source: Pexels

Fast-forward to this past Christmas. Dylan was eight and still believed in Santa, but he was slowly getting to that age where kids started asking questions.

As always, our living room was in full Christmas mode with lights everywhere, dollar store stockings by our fake fireplace (hey, we work with what we got), and our trusty artificial tree covered in eight years of random ornaments.

Dylan was excitedly talking about his science project to Harold when he made a wrong move, and suddenly, hot cocoa was covering Santa’s whole suit.

Hot chocolate in a cup | Source: Pexels

Hot chocolate in a cup | Source: Pexels

“Oh NO!” my kid bellowed like his world was ending, but Harold played it cool.

“Don’t worry, my friend. Even Santa has accidents sometimes,” he laughed, then looked at me. “Mind if I use your bathroom to clean up?”

I nodded and rushed to grab him a towel from the closet, and when I went to hand it to him… oh, boy. He had taken off the top of his costume and…no! This is not one of those stories.

Towel closet | Source: Pexels

Towel closet | Source: Pexels

What struck me speechless was a weird crescent-shaped birthmark on Harold’s back. It was identical to Dylan’s. What were the odds?

But wait, it gets stranger. On the bathroom counter, I saw keys to a Mercedes. Since when does a part-time Santa actor (who works for a less-than-averaged income family) drive a car like that? Also, it wasn’t outside. Did he park it far away?

Anyway, I tried to play it cool and handed over the towel without looking. But my mind was RACING.

Handing over a towel | Source: Pexels

Handing over a towel | Source: Pexels

Back in the living room, Dylan was setting up some board game Santa had said he could open early. I sat there trying to make everything make sense. The birthmark, the car, the way he always spent so much time with us…

But what happened next was the real kicker.

Harold came out of the bathroom and said, “So, Martin, ready to play again?”

A man dressed as Santa coming out of the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

A man dressed as Santa coming out of the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

MARTIN! That was the name written on the note left with Dylan when he was found on the doorstep of an orphanage eight years ago!

I lost it. Jumped up and yelled, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”

Poor Dylan froze, and Harold’s mouth dropped wide.

“Mommy?” Dylan’s voice was tiny. “Why are you yelling at Santa?”

A boy looking confused with a Christmas present | Source: Pexels

A boy looking confused with a Christmas present | Source: Pexels

I had to take a step back and inhale deeply. Also, I sent Dylan upstairs for a second. Then, I turned my eyes to “Santa.”

“The birthmark. Those keys. And you called him Martin. Start talking. Now,” I demanded, running my hands through my hair.

To my shock, Harold laughed. But it wasn’t humorously. It was like releasing a huge worry. He took off his fake beard and I saw his square jaw for the first time.

A handsome man | Source: Pexels

A handsome man | Source: Pexels

He looked handsome. Young. Around 40 years old, I’d say. Somehow, he also looked…rich. But most of all, he looked like my son.

Harold saw my face, and he nodded. “That’s correct. I’m his father,” he said breathlessly, and his shoulders slumped.

The background: Years ago, he was young and broke when Dylan was born. His mother left them, and Harold had no way to support his kid or any family to help out.

A man with a baby | Source: Pexels

A man with a baby | Source: Pexels

The only solution was to give his child (the one he had named Martin) up for adoption and hope someone else could give him a good life. But he kept tabs on him… on me.

And years ago, he made up the whole Santa thing just to spend time with Dylan once a year.

He’d gotten his life together by then after starting some successful business but didn’t want to mess up Dylan’s happy life with me.

A hansome man in a suit | Source: Pexels

A hansome man in a suit | Source: Pexels

I won’t lie, I was mad. But also… I got it? Like, he found this weird way to be there for his son without taking him from me.

After that conversation, I asked him for some time. Harold nodded, went back to being Santa, said goodbye to Dylan, and left. But I had his contact information, and we talked regularly.

A few days later, I decided my son needed to know. I sat him down. He knew he was adopted, but this was different. At first, he was skeptical. “Mom, Santa can’t be my dad,” he rolled his eyes at me.

A boy | Source: Pexels

A boy | Source: Pexels

“No, silly,” I said and sighed. “You should know by now that Santa is a real man under that suit. The one who visits us every year is called Harold.”

And then, I went into detail with all I knew. Dylan took a while to digest the information, and a day later, he told me he wanted to talk to Harold. I knew that would be his response because my kid loved him already, even if at first he thought he was Santa.

The next weekend, I invited Harold to our house for dinner, and he came over without his costume for the first time. It was still a little strange, but we got used to it.

People having dinner | Source: Pexels

People having dinner | Source: Pexels

After a few hours, Dylan was his usual self, chatty and excited. He wanted to show off to his biological father. By the end of the night, we agreed to set up visits every weekend.

Every weekend turned into every other night… And every other night turned into every day. To my even bigger surprise, Harold took an interest in me too.

As Santa, he had asked about me, but I always thought that was just out of politeness. Not anymore, though. It took us three months after the big revelation to confess our feelings for each other.

A man kissing a woman's hand | Source: Pexels

A man kissing a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels

A few more months later (just last week, I mean!) he proposed to me. In his Santa suit. It was more romantic than it sounds, and I just needed to share this story.

Life is weird sometimes. My kid got the dad he never thought he’d get, I found love, and it all started because I hired a Santa!

Our family of two was doing fine, even if money was never plentiful. But along with love, Harold gave us the world with the success he built after struggling for years. It was my dream come true.

Also, we’re getting married this Christmas!!

A boy lookihng up at a groom and bride | Source: Midjourney

A boy lookihng up at a groom and bride | 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.

I Let My Husband’s Best Friend Have Her Wedding on Our Property, but She Suddenly Uninvited Me the Day Before

My husband’s best friend wanted the perfect wedding venue and chose our property. I gladly let her have her big day at our home, free of charge. I spent months helping with decorations, vendors, and even the cake. But the day before the wedding, she UNINVITED me… for the most ridiculous reason.

I stood in our backyard, surveying the space where Nancy’s wedding would take place the next day. The white chairs were arranged in neat rows facing the oak tree, where she and Josh would exchange their vows against the backdrop of rolling hills and a glistening lake…

A breathtaking wedding venue | Source: Midjourney

A breathtaking wedding venue | Source: Midjourney

Peter and I had bought this property three years ago, and it truly was something special.

“It looks amazing, Evelyn,” he said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “Nancy’s going to be thrilled.”

I leaned back against his chest. “I hope so. I’ve been planning this for months.”

“You’ve gone above and beyond. Most people would have just offered the venue.”

“Well, she’s your best friend. And I wanted her day to be perfect.”

A delighted woman | Source: Midjourney

A delighted woman | Source: Midjourney

Peter kissed the top of my head. “That’s why I love you… you always think of others.”

“They should be here soon for the rehearsal. I just want to make sure everything’s ready.”

“Trust me, it is,” he said, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve thought of everything.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so… you’re amazing.”

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney

The sound of tires on gravel interrupted our moment. Nancy and Josh arrived.

“They’re here!” I said, feeling a rush of excitement. “I can’t wait to show her everything.”

Nancy stepped out of her car, and her fiancé followed, looking slightly overwhelmed as always.

“There’s my beautiful bride!” I called out, walking toward them with open arms.

A woman standing near her car | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing near her car | Source: Midjourney

Nancy gave me a quick, stiff hug. “The chairs are all wrong.”

I blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted them in a semicircle, not straight rows. Did you not get my text?”

I pulled out my phone, checking for messages. “I don’t see anything about a semicircle.”

She sighed dramatically. “Whatever. We can fix it. Where are the flowers?”

“They’re being delivered tomorrow morning, fresh as we discussed.”

A truck loaded with assorted flowers | Source: Pexels

A truck loaded with assorted flowers | Source: Pexels

Nancy frowned. “I hope they get the colors right this time. The sample bouquet was all wrong.”

Behind her, Josh gave me an apologetic smile. We had barely spoken since arriving. A delivery truck rumbled up the driveway, followed by two more vehicles.

“Finally,” Nancy muttered, then raised her voice. “Over here! Start unloading everything!”

She turned to me, her face suddenly serious. “We need to talk.”

“Sure, what’s up?” I asked, still smiling.

Nancy grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the others.

A frustrated woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

A frustrated woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

“What’s going on?” I asked, confused by her intensity.

Her expression hardened into something I’d never seen before. “Look, Evelyn, you gave us the venue… it’s nice and all. But listen, I don’t want you at the wedding tomorrow.”

“What?” I stared at her, certain I had misheard.

“You heard me,” she said, her voice cold and detached. “I don’t want you there.”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on! You know WHY.”

I shook my head, genuinely confused.

A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney

A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you used to date Josh?” she demanded.

The realization hit me like a slap. Josh and I had a brief college fling, but it ended, and we went our separate ways. We never spoke again until Nancy introduced him at their engagement, and even then, our conversation never went beyond a simple “hi” or “hello.”

“That? That was nothing. A stupid college thing over a decade ago. We weren’t even serious… it didn’t last, and we stayed acquaintances. It wasn’t even worth mentioning.”

Silhouette of a romantic couple | Source: Unsplash

Silhouette of a romantic couple | Source: Unsplash

“Well, I don’t care,” Nancy snapped. “It’s MY day, and I don’t want some woman who used to sleep with my fiancé standing around, making it weird. So yeah, you’re NOT coming.”

The words hung between us as my mind struggled to process what was happening.

After everything I’d done—the months of planning, the countless hours spent helping her choose decorations, the cake tastings, and the vendor meetings… she was uninviting me from a wedding on my OWN property?

A picturesque outdoor wedding setting | Source: Unsplash

A picturesque outdoor wedding setting | Source: Unsplash

“Nancy, you can’t be serious. This is my home.”

“And I’m grateful you let us use it,” she replied with a dismissive wave. “Peter can still come, of course. Just not you.”

“After everything I’ve done for your wedding??”

“Which I appreciate. But this is non-negotiable.”

An annoyed woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

Before I could respond, she turned toward the delivery crew and snapped her fingers. “Go ahead and start unloading everything!”

The casual way she commanded people on my property, right after uninviting me from the celebration, was surreal. I stood frozen, unable to form a coherent response.

Then I felt Peter’s hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch grounded me.

“Everything okay here?” he asked, his eyes moving between Nancy and me.

Nancy’s smile returned instantly. “Just girl talk.”

A suspicious man | Source: Midjourney

A suspicious man | Source: Midjourney

“She doesn’t want me at the wedding,” I said flatly.

Peter’s posture stiffened. “What?”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Nancy sighed. “It’s just that I recently found out she and Josh used to date, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Hold on,” Peter said, his voice sharp. “So let me get this straight… you’re fine using our home for free, my wife has spent months helping you with this wedding, but now you’re BANNING her from attending?”

Nancy huffed and crossed her arms. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not a big deal. She just needs to respect my wishes on my wedding day.”

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

Peter let out a cold laugh that sent chills down my spine. In the seven years we’d been together, I’d rarely seen him angry.

“Then maybe you should find somewhere else to have it.”

Nancy’s eyes widened in outrage. “You’re JOKING, right? The wedding is tomorrow! Where else am I supposed to have it?! You can’t just kick us out like this!”

“Actually, I can,” Peter replied. “And I just did.”

A man smirking | Source: Midjourney

A man smirking | Source: Midjourney

Nancy’s face flushed red. “You two are the MOST selfish people I’ve ever met! After everything I’ve been through, you should be GRATEFUL I even invited you in the first place! This isn’t about you! It’s about ME! You owe me this!”

Her voice rose to a screech, attracting attention from the delivery crew and Josh, who hurried over.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking concerned.

“They’re kicking us out!” Nancy cried, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. “They’re ruining our wedding because your ex-girlfriend is JEALOUS!”

A startled man | Source: Midjourney

A startled man | Source: Midjourney

I gasped at the accusation. “That’s not true! You just told me I couldn’t come to the wedding… in my own home!”

Josh looked confused. “Wait, what? Why wouldn’t Evelyn come?”

“Because you dated her!” Nancy snapped. “And no one thought to tell me until I heard it from your best friend, Willie!”

Josh’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. “You mean our two-month thing freshman year of college? Before I even knew you existed?”

A man overwhelmed with disbelief | Source: Midjourney

A man overwhelmed with disbelief | Source: Midjourney

“You think you can just pull this at the last minute?” Nancy ignored him, focusing her rage on Peter and me. “Do you know how much money I spent on planning this? You can’t just ruin my wedding because you’re bitter!”

I felt like I’d been slapped. “Bitter? ME?! After I helped with everything?”

Peter stepped forward, placing himself slightly between Nancy and me.

“No, Nancy. You ruined your own wedding the moment you thought you could treat my wife like garbage in her own home.”

Nancy let out a dramatic scoff and turned to Josh. “Do something!”

A woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

A woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

Josh shifted awkwardly, his eyes fixed on the ground. It was clear he wanted no part in this.

“JOSH?!”

“Maybe we should talk about this calmly,” he suggested weakly.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Peter said firmly. “I want you off our property. NOW.”

Nancy’s face contorted with rage. “Fine! I’ll SUE you for this! You can’t do this to me! I will make you both regret it!”

“Good luck with that. Now get off our property.”

A furious man asking someone to leave | Source: Midjourney

A furious man asking someone to leave | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, I thought Nancy might physically attack one of us. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her entire body trembled with fury.

“Nancy,” Josh said quietly, “let’s go.”

“You’re taking their side?” she whirled on him.

“I’m not taking sides. But this isn’t helping.”

She looked around wildly at the half-unloaded trucks, the arranged chairs, and the scattered boxes of decorations. “What am I supposed to do now? The wedding is TOMORROW!”

A furious woman arguing | Source: Midjourney

A furious woman arguing | Source: Midjourney

I felt a twinge of sympathy despite everything. Then I remembered how quickly she decided to ban me from my own home.

“That’s not our problem anymore,” I said.

***

The next hour was chaos. Nancy screamed, cursed, and threw a full-blown tantrum. At one point, she grabbed a box of table settings and hurled it to the ground, sending plates shattering across our driveway.

“You’ll pay for this!” she shrieked. “Both of you!”

Broken ceramic plates on the driveway | Source: Midjourney

Broken ceramic plates on the driveway | Source: Midjourney

Josh finally managed to guide her to the car, whispering something in her ear that seemed to momentarily calm her. As they drove away, the delivery crew stood awkwardly, awaiting instructions.

“You can take everything back,” Peter told them. “The wedding won’t be happening here.”

I spent the rest of the day in a daze, canceling vendors and requesting refunds for everything we paid for. The cake, flowers, and catering were all gone with a few phone calls.

That evening, Peter and I sat on our porch swing, looking out at the half-dismantled wedding setup.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

He looked at me, surprised. “For what?”

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken woman | Source: Midjourney

“For causing all this drama. If I had just told you about Josh…”

“Stop,” he interrupted gently. “You didn’t cause anything. It was such a minor thing, and it happened long ago. Nancy showed her true colors today, and that’s not on you.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Do you think she’ll actually sue us?”

“Let her try. We didn’t sign any contracts. This was a favor for a friend… a friend who turned out not to be one at all.”

A man comforting his sad wife | Source: Midjourney

A man comforting his sad wife | Source: Midjourney

“I still can’t believe how quickly it all fell apart.”

“Some people are only nice when they get what they want, Evie. The minute you stand up for yourself, the mask comes off.”

***

A week later, we heard through mutual friends that Nancy and Josh had gotten married in a rushed ceremony at a local hotel. The photos showed a much smaller affair than what had been planned at our home.

Surprisingly, Josh texted Peter a few days after.

“Nancy’s still upset, but I wanted to apologize for how everything went down. I should have spoken up more.”

Peter showed me the message but he didn’t reply. Some bridges, once burned, weren’t worth rebuilding.

A man holding his phone | Source: Unsplash

A man holding his phone | Source: Unsplash

The thing is, I don’t regret a moment of what happened. Because that day taught me something valuable: never compromise your dignity for people who wouldn’t do the same for you.

Some might say we overreacted by canceling Nancy’s wedding at the last minute. But I’ll tell you what’s truly an overreaction—uninviting someone from an event at their own home because of a meaningless college fling from over a decade ago.

In the end, it wasn’t about that ancient history with Josh. It was about respect. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this whole experience, it’s that I deserve at least that much. We all do.

A confident woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A confident woman smiling | 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.

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