As I carefully adjusted the silver star on top of our Christmas tree for what felt like the hundredth time, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. My husband had left me and the kids at home to attend his work Christmas party, despite me planning the perfect Christmas Eve for our family. But when a call from another wife revealed the truth about couples being invited, I knew it was time for a surprise visit.
I surveyed my work, nearly tripping over the train set my son Michael had insisted on setting up last weekend. It had been a rare moment of full presence with the family from him, and I cherished it. My daughter Daisy spun around in her sparkly princess dress, her blonde curls bouncing with each turn. She was pure magic, and the sequins on her dress caught the Christmas lights, creating tiny dancing rainbows on the walls.
As I reached out to steady her, I couldn’t help but think about how much I wanted everything to be perfect. It was just the kind of mom and wife I was. But as the evening went on, my husband’s absence only served as a reminder of the growing distance between us.
Max charged through the living room, his plastic sword raised high as he pretended to be a pirate. I couldn’t help but laugh as I caught him mid-stride and inhaled the sweet baby shampoo smell of his hair. But as he asked about his father’s whereabouts for the hundredth time that day, my heart sank.
I checked my watch again, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. My husband had been coming home later and later these past few months, always with a different excuse. But tonight was Christmas Eve, and I hoped it would be different.