Five days before New Year’s Eve, Lily endured such a wave of hurt, disappointment, and humiliation that she barely kept herself together. She only managed it for the sake of the children, not wanting to ruin their holiday spirit.
Max had grown increasingly irritable lately, snapping at everything—his wife, the kids, the smallest inconveniences. Even nine-year-old Toby noticed. “Mum,” he asked quietly, “why’s Dad so angry all the time?”
His little sister Rosie, just in Year One, might not have picked up on it, but Toby had.
“Don’t worry, love,” Lily whispered, hugging him close. “Work’s been hard on him. He’s just tired. I’ll talk to him.”
But she knew it was more than fatigue. Max was distracted, lashing out unprovoked—even at the children, though he’d once been the one instigating their chaotic games.
That evening, as Toby and Rosie raced through the flat, shrieking with laughter, Max snarled, “Stop tearing about like headless chickens, or you’ll be in trouble!” The kids froze, stunned by his tone, then vanished into their room without another word.
“Max, what’s going on?” Lily asked softly, seeing their frightened faces. “Can’t you be gentler?”
“Nothing’s going on,” he snapped.
“Don’t lie. This isn’t the first time. You’re taking something out on us. What have we done?”
She hadn’t expected his response—and part of her wished she’d never asked. But then again, why delay the inevitable?
Max stood abruptly, shifting uncomfortably before blurting out, “I didn’t want to do this before New Year’s, but since you’re pushing—”
“Why?” Lily whispered, confused.
“So I wouldn’t ruin the holiday.”
“How?”
“Lily, don’t make me spell it out. I’ve met someone else. I’m in love. I’m leaving. I’ll see the kids on weekends. I’ll pay child support.”
She stared, numb. “What? When? Is this a joke?”
He shook his head. “I’ll tell them myself. Just… not yet.”
Lily nodded numbly as Max vanished into the bedroom, emerging minutes later with a suitcase. The door slammed behind him.
She’d never understood how abandoned women carried on—until now. It felt like the ground had vanished beneath her. But the children needed her.
“Mum, where’s Dad?” Rosie burst in later.
“He… had to go away for work.”
“When’s he back?”
“I don’t know, love.”
Toby appeared, frowning. “So we’re spending New Year’s without him?”
Lily forced a smile. “Just the three of us. But we’ll still have the tree, presents—everything like always.”
She barely slept that night, Max’s words echoing endlessly.
By New Year’s Eve, she forced herself to prepare, terrified the children would sense something wrong. Cooking helped distract her—at least she was good at that.
“Mum, where are you going?” Rosie asked as Lily grabbed her coat.
“Just popping to the shops.”
“I’ll come!” Rosie dashed off to get ready.
“Get crisps!” Toby called after them. “Remind her, Rosie!”
Later, the kids went out to play. The tree glittered in the lounge, the table set with a fruit bowl at its center. Lily was in the kitchen when Toby shouted, “Mum, come quick!”
She hurried out—and found him cradling a scruffy black kitten with a white star on its forehead.
“No. Absolutely not,” she said firmly.
“Pleaaaaase,” Rosie whined.
“He’s dirty. Where did you even find him?”
“Dad would let us keep him,” Toby said pointedly.
“Dad’s not here. Put him in the hall with some milk and a blanket.”
“It’s freezing out there!” they protested.
But Lily stood firm. “Take him out. And wash your hands.”
The kids slunk off, hurt. She felt guilty—but the last thing she needed was a stray, on top of everything else.
Later, the doorbell rang. It was Mrs. Wilkins from next door, the kitten perched on the mat.
“Little visitor for you!” she chirped. “Sat right here mewing. It’s a good omen, a New Year’s cat.”
The kids cheered as the kitten bolted inside, vanishing under the sofa.
Mrs. Wilkins winked. “Take it from an old woman—a kitten at New Year’s means luck’s coming.”
Lily said nothing, but once the neighbour left, she dragged the kitten out again.
“Mum, you’re mean,” Toby muttered. “Dad would’ve said yes.”
They sulked in their room, refusing dinner.
Exhausted, Lily slumped on the sofa. Why had she cooked so much? The holiday felt hollow.
Another knock. She marched to the door, ready to snap—then froze. Max stood there.
“I asked you not to tell the kids yet,” she said dully.
“Lily… I can’t live without you. I was wrong. You and the kids—you’re everything.”
“Daddy’s home!” Toby yelled, the kitten in his arms.
“Please let us keep him!” Rosie begged.
Max looked at Lily. “Cats bring luck, you know… What do you think?”
She sighed, hiding a smile. “Fine. Do what you want.”
That night, they celebrated as always—laughing, lighting sparklers, exchanging gifts. Only the kitten, now named Shadow, slept through it all, curled up warm and safe in the children’s room.
