My Little Daughter Prepared a Wishlist for Santa but Her Last Wish Made Me Question My Marriage

When my 5-year-old daughter, Lily, handed me the letter she’d written to Santa, I expected toys and gadgets. But her last wish made my stomach drop. It wasn’t about her. It was about her grandma and my husband. Her innocent words left me questioning my marriage and wondering what was happening behind my back.

There’s something magical about raising a 5-year-old.

My daughter, Lily, is the light of my life. She’s got the kind of curiosity that makes every day an adventure.

A little girl standing outside | Source: Midjourney

A little girl standing outside | Source: Midjourney

Whether it’s her endless questions about why the sky is blue or her fascination with how cookies bake in the oven, Lily’s wonder keeps me on my toes and fills our home with laughter.

I’ve been married to Jeff for six years, and life has been mostly smooth sailing. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, but we’ve managed to build a good life together.

A couple sitting together | Source: Midjourney

A couple sitting together | Source: Midjourney

He’s a great Dad to Lily. She loves it when he plays tea party with her or reads bedtime stories. Watching the two of them together makes me feel like I won the marriage lottery.

As Christmas approached, Lily was bubbling with excitement to write her annual letter to Santa. It’s a tradition we’ve had since her very first Christmas when she was too young to hold a crayon.

This year, she insisted on doing most of it herself.

A little girl holding a pen | Source: Midjourney

A little girl holding a pen | Source: Midjourney

“I’m a big girl now, Mommy!” she declared, holding up a red marker with an exaggerated look of determination.

I decided to make it extra special by sitting with her to brainstorm her wishes. I figured there’d be a few predictable requests. Something pink, something glittery, maybe a toy she saw on TV. And for the most part, that’s exactly how it went.

“I want a kitchen set,” she began. “A camera like James has, a smartwatch like Pam’s, and… oh, I want Grandma to play with me, not with Dad.”

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

What did she just say? I thought.

“Grandma?” I asked, looking at her with wide eyes. “My mom or Daddy’s mom?”

“Yours,” she replied. “She comes when I’m usually asleep, around three p.m. One time, I woke up and heard something. I saw Grandma’s bag and heard her voice in your bedroom. When I went in, Daddy was putting on his shirt. When I asked Grandma to play, they said they’d already played, so Grandma was leaving.”

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t believe her words. I thought she was making this up.

I laughed nervously. “Honey, I think you dreamed that. Grandma doesn’t—”

“No, I saw her,” Lily interrupted firmly. “And she really was there.”

I shrugged it off, trying not to read into it. But a seed of doubt had already been planted.

Over the next few days, Lily’s innocent words kept replaying in my mind, no matter how much I told myself it was probably just a misunderstanding.

A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney

My mom and… my husband? No, it couldn’t be. Jeff adored me, and my mom was, well, my mom. But still, there were little things I couldn’t ignore.

For one, Mom had been dropping by more often in the afternoons, but only when I wasn’t home.

I called her to ask about it.

“Why don’t you come when I’m around, Mom?” I asked casually. “It’s been weeks since I last saw you.”

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

“I just stopped by while going home from work,” she told me. “We’ll meet soon, honey.”

“Work? Oh. How’s it going?” I asked.

“It’s… okay,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about switching my career now. I told you about it before as well. I—”

“Mom, please!” I cut her off. “You’re a lawyer and that’s perfect!”

That’s all I got whenever I called her. She never visited when I was home.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

And then there was Jeff.

Lately, he’d been complaining about back pain, wincing every time he stood up or bent down. When I asked about it, he brushed me off with a quick, “It’s nothing serious.”

But now, that casual dismissal felt like another puzzle piece I couldn’t fit.

The first real red flag came a few days later when I was cleaning out a drawer in our bedroom. I found a small, nearly empty bottle of lavender massage oil tucked behind some old socks.

It wasn’t mine, and I didn’t remember seeing it before.

A person holding an oil bottle | Source: Pexels

A person holding an oil bottle | Source: Pexels

“What’s this?” I asked Jeff, holding up the bottle.

“Oh, that’s your mom’s,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s been, uh, using it for her back.”

“For her back?” I repeated.

“Yeah, she left it here by accident,” he said nonchalantly, walking away before I could ask anything else.

Something about his tone didn’t sit right with me. And then Lily’s comments replayed in my mind.

A man sitting in his house | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in his house | Source: Midjourney

Is Jeff hiding something from me? I thought. Did Lily really see Mom and Jeff in our bedroom?

These thoughts were making me go crazy, and what made things worse was Mom’s behavior lately.

So, the thing is, my mom’s always been polished and professional. She’s this proud lawyer who’d wear heels even to casual family dinners.

But recently, she’d traded her usual tailored suits for yoga pants and oversized tees.

A woman in an oversized shirt | Source: Pexels

A woman in an oversized shirt | Source: Pexels

“What’s up with the new outfits, Mom?” I asked her one day.

“Oh, nothing,” she smiled. Just trying to relax more.”

Her answer made sense, but not if I analyzed it with Lily’s words ringing in my mind. I couldn’t help but wonder why her sudden transformation coincided with her secret visits to my place.

Then there were her hushed conversations with Jeff.

A woman in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney

One night, I walked past the living room and saw them sitting close, their heads bent together. Mom was whispering, “We’ll have to keep this between us. She wouldn’t understand.”

Jeff nodded but they both went silent the moment they saw me.

“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Fine!” Mom chirped, standing quickly and brushing her hands on her pants. “Just discussing, uh, holiday plans.”

It didn’t feel fine. And Jeff’s behavior didn’t help. He’d started acting overly attentive, bringing me coffee in bed, folding laundry without being asked, and even volunteering to pick up groceries.

A trolley in a grocery store | Source: Pexels

A trolley in a grocery store | Source: Pexels

I should’ve been happy, but it felt off. It felt like he was trying too hard.

At that point, I was sure something was happening behind my back, but I wasn’t certain if confronting Mom and Jeff directly would help.

I knew I had to do something myself.

The final straw came on a random Tuesday. I was packing Lily’s lunch when she casually asked if her grandma would visit.

A close-up shot of a lunch box | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a lunch box | Source: Pexels

“She always comes on Tuesdays,” she said.

“Really?” I asked. “Maybe she might come this time as well.”

And that was the point when I decided it was time to find out the truth.

That day, I left work early, determined to catch whatever was happening.

As I pulled into the driveway, I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my chest. I quietly opened the door and stepped inside.

A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

The house was silent, but faint murmurs drifted from upstairs. I quietly crept up the stairs, and my heart pounded louder with each step.

I stopped by the bedroom door. My breath caught as I heard Jeff sigh.

“That’s perfect,” he murmured.

I couldn’t wait any longer, so I flung the door open and froze.

What I saw wasn’t what I had imagined.

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

A doorknob | Source: Pexels

My mother was there, yes.

She was perched on the edge of the bed, her hands pressing firmly into Jeff’s back. His shirt was off, but it wasn’t the romantic, scandalous scene I’d feared.

It looked like a… MASSAGE.

Both of them turned to me with startled expressions, as if I were the intruder.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” I demanded.

Mom blushed, fumbling with the small bottle of lavender massage oil beside her.

“Brisa, I — this isn’t what it looks like,” she stammered.

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

An older woman | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, so it’s not you sneaking into my house every afternoon to play with my husband?” I shot back.

“Brisa, calm down,” Jeff said. “It’s nothing like that.”

Mom sighed, setting the oil down.

“Okay, I can explain,” she cleared her throat. “I’d been thinking about a career change, Brisa. I told you as well, remember?”

I nodded.

“I want to be a massage therapist, honey. And Jeff, well, he’s been having terrible back pain, so he agreed to let me practice on him.”

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

“What?” I blurted out. “But why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t understand,” she said. “You see, no one took me seriously when I said I wanted to change my career. You weren’t ready to accept that I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, and your dad also thought becoming a massage therapist was absurd. But Jeff… he was the only one who supported me.”

I couldn’t believe this was what Mom and Jeff were hiding from me. Had I really jumped to such wild conclusions?

I stared at them, feeling like the world’s biggest fool.

A woman looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

“So… this is all about back pain and a new career?” I asked weakly.

“Yes,” Mom said, her voice soft now. “I didn’t mean to hide it, Brisa. But after how dismissive everyone was, I didn’t see the point in telling anyone except Jeff. He’s been so supportive, and I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

“And honestly, I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Jeff said. “I didn’t want to add to your stress with Christmas coming up.”

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney

I let out a shaky laugh. “Well, you both could’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights by just saying something.”

Mom leaned forward, squeezing my hand. “I’m sorry, honey. I never meant to make you feel like something was wrong.”

In that moment, I realized how quick I’d been to jump to conclusions. My mother wasn’t sneaking around. She was chasing a passion. And my husband wasn’t betraying me. He was just supporting her.

A close-up shot of a man's face | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a man’s face | Source: Midjourney

“I’m also sorry,” I said. “I jumped to such absurd conclusions without investigating anything… And Mom, I’m sorry for not believing in you. Go for it, please. Become a massage therapist. You’ve got my full support.”

And just like that, the tension melted away, leaving us stronger than before.

Christmas that year turned out to be one of the best we’d ever had. Mom proudly announced her plans to enroll in massage therapy school over dinner, and for the first time, we all cheered her on.

A Christmas tree | Source: Pexels

A Christmas tree | Source: Pexels

Meanwhile, Lily beamed as she unwrapped her gifts, especially the kitchen set she’d been dreaming of.

And as we sat around the tree, sipping hot cocoa and laughing, I realized how lucky I was to have a family that could weather misunderstandings and come out stronger.

It was a Christmas filled with love, trust, and new beginnings.

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Claire thought her whirlwind romance was the start of her happily ever after—until an overheard conversation between her mother and her husband, James. Betrayed by the two people she trusted most, Claire embarks on a journey to uncover their motives and reclaim her life.

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.

My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly

My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly

When Emily’s friend, Elle, gets engaged to her boyfriend, Brian, she is completely over the moon. Emily does everything she can to help Elle plan her dream wedding. But then Elle starts acting secretive and gives Emily a wedding invite with the incorrect dress code. Thankfully, a mutual colleague gives Emily the correct details, allowing her to show up to the wedding to teach Elle a lesson.

“I’m engaged, Em!” Elle said, rushing through my door while I was sitting on the couch and reading a book.

A woman reading on a couch | Source: Unsplash

A woman reading on a couch | Source: Unsplash

“What?” I exclaimed, standing up to hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you, my girl!”

Elle sat down on the couch and showed me her hand.

“Look at this rock!” she said.

A close-up of an engagement ring | Source: Unsplash

A close-up of an engagement ring | Source: Unsplash

Of course, I was over the moon for her. We’d been through so much together, and now it was her turn to walk down the aisle.

For my wedding, a few years ago, Elle had been right by my side. She helped me plan every little detail, from the font on my wedding invitations to the menu selections.

“It’s more like you and Elle are getting married,” my husband, Grant, laughed one evening when I told him everything that Elle and I had planned.

A laughing man | Source: Unsplash

A laughing man | Source: Unsplash

“Well, she’s been around longer than you,” I replied, showing him the mockup for our wedding invitations.

And it was true, Elle and I had been friends since our childhood, having lived on the same street and gone to the same kindergarten together.

We shared every major milestone, from awkward teenage years to college graduation, together.

Two women lying on a bed | Source: Pexels

Two women lying on a bed | Source: Pexels

We even ended up working at the same company, making sure to have lunch and tea breaks together every day.

So, naturally, I expected her to be just as involved in her wedding planning as she was in mine.

“Brian and I don’t want to be engaged for too long,” she said one day at the office while we were having tea and pastries.

An office kitchen | Source: Unsplash

An office kitchen | Source: Unsplash

“So, we’re planning for the wedding to be in a few months.”

“That’s a lot to do in a few months, Elle,” I said, sipping my tea.

“I know,” she agreed. “But you’ll help me!”

A woman drinking from a mug | Source: Pexels

A woman drinking from a mug | Source: Pexels

As the weeks went by, Elle asked me for advice on the venue, the dance, and the flowers.

“I need it to be perfect, Em,” she said. “Brian and I are the only children of our parents, so this is the only chance they’re going to get to be parents of the bride and groom.”

A smiling older couple | Source: Midjourney

A smiling older couple | Source: Midjourney

I helped her wherever I could. I booked visits of stunning venues that she could see. I booked her appointment with the florist who had done all the flowers at my wedding. And I arranged for her to meet my choreographer for her first dance with Brian.

“I don’t know how I could have done any of this without you,” Elle said, holding my hand.

Two women holding hands | Source: Midjourney

Two women holding hands | Source: Midjourney

But that’s not the best part of this story.

Despite our shared history and all the assistance I had given Elle throughout her wedding planning process, she didn’t tell me anything about the actual wedding.

“I want to keep the location a secret,” she said sheepishly, a small smile on her face. “I want it to be a surprise. So, you’ll know when the invites come out.”

A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

And yet, when the invitations came out, I never received mine.

“Darling,” I asked Grant when I got home one day. “Did Elle’s wedding invitation come in the post?”

“No,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Shouldn’t she have just given it to you?”

A man using a tablet | Source: Midjourney

A man using a tablet | Source: Midjourney

“I thought so, but I’m not sure where our invitation is.”

“Ask her, love,” my husband said.

I was puzzled, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

A close-up of a surprised woman | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a surprised woman | Source: Midjourney

So, I asked her directly.

“Oh, right,” she said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I must have forgotten. I don’t have any on me at the moment, but I’ll bring one for you tomorrow!”

The next day, Elle handed me an invite. To my surprise, the dress code was “Mermaid.”

A wedding invitation on a table | Source: Midjourney

A wedding invitation on a table | Source: Midjourney

“Like the cartoon character?” I said aloud.

It seemed bizarre, but Elle had always loved that cartoon, so I tried to rationalize it.

“Maybe she’s going for a whimsical theme?” I muttered, thinking about a mermaid-themed wedding.

An imagined mermaid-themed wedding | Source: Midjourney

An imagined mermaid-themed wedding | Source: Midjourney

But still, I planned my outfit for Elle’s wedding.

It was about a week before the wedding when our colleague, Jane, and I were standing outside during one of our tea breaks and chatting.

“I’m actually looking forward to getting all dressed up,” Jane said. “It’s been a while since I put on a good pair of heels and did my makeup for fun and not work.”

A woman putting on makeup | Source: Unsplash

A woman putting on makeup | Source: Unsplash

“What do you mean? Is your costume all sorted?” I asked.

“What costume?” Jane asked, her reaction priceless; she looked at me like I had lost my mind.

“Elle’s invitation said that the dress code was mermaid-themed,” I said.

A surprised young woman | Source: Midjourney

A surprised young woman | Source: Midjourney

“I think she’s joking with you,” Jane laughed. “My invitation said ‘Cocktail’ as the dress code.”

My heart sank.

Elle was setting me up, but why?

For the next few days, I kept my head down, barely interacting with Elle.

A close-up of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney

I was feeling sidelined and hurt. We’d always been honest with each other, so why was she doing this now?

I remembered how supportive she was during my wedding and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me involved in hers.

On the day of the wedding, I arrived in a long, elegant gray dress.

A woman wearing a long gray dress | Source: Midjourney

A woman wearing a long gray dress | Source: Midjourney

Grant and I sat at the back, away from the crowd, and we watched the beautiful ceremony unfold. I wondered why I wasn’t a bridesmaid.

But it was only during the reception, when Elle saw me, that the truth came out.

A bridal couple kissing | Source: Unsplash

A bridal couple kissing | Source: Unsplash

“What the hell are you wearing?” she demanded when she saw me.

The guests around us glanced at us and each other, sensing the tension.

“You know, I really thought that ‘mermaids’ as the wedding theme was a bit extreme. But then Jane showed me her invitation.”

An angry bride | Source: Midjourney

An angry bride | Source: Midjourney

Elle’s face went through a range of emotions, finally settling on a strained calm.

“Em… I guess it was a mistake,” she said.

“Stop pretending,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “I’m your friend. It’s your wedding. What’s going on?”

She hesitated, her eyes darting around before finally meeting mine.

A close-up of a bride | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a bride | Source: Midjourney

“Em,” she said slowly. “I was afraid that you’d outshine me. Everyone keeps talking about how perfect your wedding was and how beautiful you looked. I didn’t want to feel like I was in your shadow on my own day.”

I looked at her carefully, trying to process her words.

“My own mother kept talking about how wonderful your wedding was and that I should listen to you about everything,” she continued.

A close-up of a bride and her mother | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a bride and her mother | Source: Midjourney

“Elle, you never had to compete with me. Your wedding is beautiful, and so are you. We’re friends, remember? I would never try to overshadow you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Em,” she choked. “I let my insecurities get the best of me.”

I pulled her into a hug.

Two women hugging | Source: Midjourney

Two women hugging | Source: Midjourney

“Everything is perfect,” I said. “You’ve planned your dream wedding, and it has all fallen into place. Now, come on. Let’s enjoy this day together, like we’ve always done.”

The tension melted away, and the awkwardness dissolved as we shared a genuine moment of reconciliation.

Grant and I sat at a table away from the crowd.

A table at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney

A table at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney

“Are things okay with you and Elle?” Grant asked me.

“I think so,” I smiled. “But I think that there’s bigger things we need to discuss, too. I just want to make sure that we’re on the right page. That can wait until after her honeymoon.”

My husband took my hand and squeezed it gently.

A couple holding hands on a table | Source: Midjourney

A couple holding hands on a table | Source: Midjourney

What would you have done?

Related Posts

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*