Christmas has always been a magical time for me.
The twinkling lights, the smell of pine needles, gingerbread cookies and stockings full of surprises — all of this brought warmth and joy.
But this year was different.
A few months ago, my dad got remarried. His new wife, Melanie, made it clear from the start that she didn’t want me around.
She wasn’t openly cruel like the wicked stepmothers in fairy tales, but her subtle jibes and ambiguous remarks hurt.
Things like:
‘Oh, Anna, what are you wearing? Darling, maybe you should think twice?’
Or:
‘Your dad spoils you too much. Enjoy it while it lasts.’
After I lost my mum ten years ago, I told myself that I could endure anything to see my dad happy.
And for a while, I believed it.
But everything changed a week before Christmas.
One evening, my dad called me aside with an unusually serious look on his face.
He handed me a beautifully wrapped box, the gold foil glistening in the lights, and a soft red velvet ribbon.
‘Anna,’ he said, ‘I have a special gift for you this year.’
‘What is it?’ I asked curiously.
‘It’s a surprise,’ he smiled. ‘But I need you to promise me something.’
‘Okay… what?’
“Don’t open it until Christmas morning. Let it lie under the tree, and think of me when you see it. I’ll be away on business, but I’ll call you first thing in the morning. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I nodded.
‘I promise.’
The next morning, on Christmas Eve, he left on his ‘trip.’ That night, I carefully placed the gold box under the tree, eagerly awaiting Christmas morning.
But when I woke up and ran downstairs, ready to open my present, I froze in shock.
Melanie was sitting by the tree, tearing open the wrapping on my present.
‘Melanie! That’s my present!’
She looked up and smirked.
‘Oh, Anna… Merry Christmas! Your dad always spoils you. Let’s see if he got anything useful — something I can enjoy.’
‘Stop it! He said not to open it until Christmas! Please, it’s mine!’
But it was too late. She had already torn the paper and opened the box.
Her smug smile instantly disappeared, and a pale, frightened look appeared on her face.
I moved closer.
Inside was a small black velvet ring box and an envelope with Melanie’s name written in my father’s handwriting.
With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and read the letter aloud:
“Melanie,
If you are reading this, then you have done exactly what I expected.
I overheard your conversation with your sister about taking Anna’s gift for yourself.
I thought about confronting you directly, but I wanted to give you a chance to prove me wrong.
Instead, you showed me who you really are.
This is the last time you will insult my daughter.
Consider this my farewell.
Merry Christmas.
— Greg
She turned pale. Her hands trembled as she opened the velvet box—inside was the emerald ring my father had used to propose to her.
It belonged to my grandmother, and I had always dreamed of inheriting it one day.
At that moment, the door opened.
‘Greg?’ she exclaimed.
‘Dad!’ I cried.
‘I thought you were away on business,’ Melanie stammered.
‘I wasn’t,’ Dad replied calmly. “I stayed close by to see if you would make the right choice. Instead, you proved my fears right.”
‘Greg, it’s not what you think—’
“It is exactly what you think, Melanie.
I trusted you to be my partner and Anna’s stepmother, but you have shown nothing but selfishness and cruelty.
Pack your things. You’re leaving today.”
Two hours later, she was gone, dragging her suitcase behind her.
And for the first time in months, peace returned to the house.
Dad and I spent the rest of Christmas together, making pancakes, drinking hot chocolate and watching classic Christmas films.
That Christmas, I realised that the real gift wasn’t a ring or a letter.
It was the realisation that I had a father who loved me unconditionally and would always be on my side.
Such magic? I will never forget it.
