Five days before Christmas, Lily received such a heavy dose of hurt, disappointment, and humiliation that it took her a long while to pull herself together—and even then, she only managed for the sake of not upsetting the children before the holidays.
Lately, Max had been voicing his dissatisfaction with everything. Nothing Lily or the kids did pleased him. He snapped at them constantly, even nine-year-old Tommy noticed.
“Mum, why’s Dad so angry all the time?”
Her daughter Emily, just in Year One, might not have noticed, but her older brother had put his finger on the problem.
“Don’t worry, love,” Lily said, hugging him close and kissing the top of his head. “Dad’s just stressed about work. He comes home tired and cross. I’ll talk to him.”
Lily had noticed Max couldn’t seem to control himself. Something was off—he’d grown absent-minded, lashing out at everyone for no reason, even the kids when they played too loudly. Before, he’d join in their rambunctious games, laughing so hard the whole flat shook while Lily shushed them.
That evening, Tommy and Emily were tearing through the flat, giggling wildly.
“Stop tearing about like mad things, or you’ll be in trouble!” Max snarled, his tone so harsh the children froze mid-step.
They bolted to their room and shut the door.
“Max, what’s wrong?” Lily asked, her voice tight. “The kids didn’t deserve that.”
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“Don’t lie,” she pressed. “This isn’t the first time. You’re taking things out on us. What have we done?”
She hadn’t expected his reaction—and instantly regretted starting the conversation. But then she thought, *Does it even matter? Now or later…*
Max stood abruptly, hesitated, shifting his weight before finally speaking.
“I didn’t want to say this before Christmas, but you’re pushing me.”
“Why?” Lily frowned, still confused.
“Didn’t want to ruin the holidays.”
“How could you ruin them?”
“Lily, don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “Fine. I met someone else. I’m in love with her.”
Her stomach dropped. “What? When? Is this some joke?”
“I’m not joking. I’m leaving. I’ll see the kids on weekends. I’ll pay child support.”
Lily stood dumbstruck, but before she could speak, he cut in.
“I’ll tell them myself. Don’t say anything yet.”
“Not now,” she whispered, knowing how devastated they’d be.
Max nodded stiffly, then disappeared into the bedroom, dragging out a suitcase. The front door slammed behind him.
*I never understood how abandoned women felt,* she thought numbly. *Now I do.* It was crushing, like her whole life had collapsed. And yet, she had to pull herself together—for the kids.
She might have stayed there forever, lost in misery, but Emily burst in.
“Mum, did Dad go somewhere? Where is he?”
“Dad? He—he had to leave for a work trip.”
“When’s he coming back?”
“I don’t know, love.”
Tommy appeared, frowning. “Are we doing Christmas without him?”
Lily forced a smile. “Just the three of us. But we’ll still have the tree, the presents—everything. It’ll be fine.”
That night, Lily barely slept, stress gnawing at her. Max’s words—*I’m in love with someone else*—played on a loop. She couldn’t accept it.
On Christmas Eve morning, she forced herself up, determined to make the day special. She was terrified the kids would sense something wrong, so she threw herself into cooking.
*At least it’ll keep me busy,* she thought. *Let the kids have their fun. I won’t spoil it for them.*
She started prepping, then remembered she’d forgotten a few things.
“Mum, where’re you going?” Emily asked as she grabbed her coat.
“Just popping to the shop.”
“I’ll come!” Emily dashed off to get dressed.
Tommy stayed behind. “Mum, get crisps?”
“Emily, remind her about the crisps,” he ordered, and his sister nodded eagerly.
After lunch, the kids went outside to play. The tree was up, the table set, a fruit bowl in the centre. Lily was in the kitchen when Tommy’s voice rang out.
“Mum, come quick!”
She stepped into the hallway—and froze. In Tommy’s arms was a tiny black kitten with a white smudge on its forehead. Both children beamed.
“No,” Lily said firmly, but their pleading eyes bore into her.
“Muuuum,” Emily whined. “Please?”
“You found it outside? It’s filthy.”
Tommy gave her a hopeful look. “Dad likes cats. If he says yes—”
“Dad’s not here. Put a towel by the door, give it some milk, but it stays out there.”
“It’s freezing! We’ll wash him, he’ll be clean!” they begged, but Lily stood firm. “No. And don’t sulk before Christmas. Take it outside. End of discussion. Wash your hands.”
Tommy left, defeated. The children obeyed, trudging to their room in silence. Lily felt guilty—but she *would not* have a cat in the house. Not now, when her husband had just left.
Later, she called them to eat, but they refused, shouting in unison: “Not hungry!”
She sighed. *Fine. They need time.*
While kneading pie dough, she noticed an odd quiet. Even the telly’s murmur couldn’t mask it. Curious, she crept to their door and cracked it open.
“Emily, grab a cloth and wipe that up,” Tommy hissed.
“You do it!”
Lily’s eyes landed on a wet patch on the floor—and the kitten, sitting innocently beside it. She nearly shrieked. Grabbing a rag, she mopped up, then snatched the kitten and marched it back outside.
The children wailed in protest, but Lily slumped onto the sofa, drained. Tired of cooking, of the mess, of everything.
*Why this? Why today? And why did I cook so much? Just us three—a salad and pie would’ve been enough.*
Darkness fell outside. The table needed setting, but she sat motionless, listening to the kids’ muffled cries. She hated this Christmas.
Then—the doorbell. Lily groaned. *That nosy neighbour again, probably with the kitten.* She stormed over, ready to snap, even though she’d never been rude a day in her life.
She yanked the door open—and froze.
Max stood there.
“Max, I told you not to upset the kids—” she began weakly.
But he shook his head. “Lily, I can’t live without you. I’m sorry. I was an idiot. You and the kids—you’re my life.”
“Daddy’s home!” Tommy shrieked, clutching the kitten.
“Dad, please let us keep him,” Emily pleaded in her tiny voice.
Max stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Cats bring good luck,” he said, raising a brow at Lily. “What d’you reckon, love?”
She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Fine. Do what you want.” Then she hurried to the kitchen before they saw her happy tears.
That Christmas, they celebrated just like always—searching for presents under the tree, lighting sparklers, laughing. Only one thing was different: Shadow, the kitten, fast asleep in the kids’ room, worn out from the chaos and finally warm.
