MY LITTLE GIRL MADE A WISH LIST FOR SANTA, BUT HER FINAL WISH MADE ME QUESTION MY MARRIAGE.

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When my 5-year-old daughter, Lily, handed me the letter she had written to Santa, I expected toys and gadgets. But her final wish made my stomach drop. It wasn’t about her. It was about her grandmother 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 has the kind of curiosity that makes every day an adventure.

Whether it’s her endless questions about why the sky is blue or her fascination with how cookies bake in the oven, Lily’s sense of 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, for the most part, smooth. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, but we’ve managed to build a good life together.

Jeff is a great dad to Lily. She loves when he plays tea parties with her or reads her bedtime stories. Watching the two of them together makes me feel like I hit the jackpot in marriage.

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

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

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

I decided to make it even more special by sitting down with her to brainstorm her wishes. I imagined there would be some predictable requests—something pink, something sparkly, maybe a toy she’d seen 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 Daddy.”

I froze.

“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 3 p.m. One time, I woke up and heard something. I saw Grandma’s purse and heard her voice in your room. When I went in, Daddy was putting on his shirt. When I asked Grandma to play, they said they already played, so she was leaving.”

I couldn’t believe her words. I thought she must be making it up.

I laughed nervously. “Sweetie, 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 overthink it. But a seed of doubt had already been planted.

In the days that followed, Lily’s innocent words kept echoing in my mind, no matter how much I told myself it was probably just a misunderstanding.

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

First, my mom had been showing up more often in the afternoons, but only when I wasn’t home.

I called her to ask about it.

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

“I just stopped by on my way back from work,” she told me. “We’ll catch up soon, sweetheart.”

“Work? Oh. How’s that going?” I asked.

“It’s… fine,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking of switching careers, though. I mentioned it to you before.”

“Mom, really!” I interrupted. “You’re an amazing lawyer. Why would you want to leave that?”

That was all I heard every time I called her. She never visited when I was home.

Then there was Jeff.

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

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

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 hidden behind some old socks.

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

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

“Oh, it’s your mom’s,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s been 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.

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

These thoughts were driving me crazy, and what made it worse was my mom’s behavior lately.

She’d always been polished and professional. She was a proud lawyer who would wear heels even to casual family dinners.

But recently, she’d swapped her tailored suits for yoga pants and oversized shirts.

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

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

Her response made sense, but not when I analyzed it with Lily’s words echoing 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 whispered conversations with Jeff.

One night, I walked past the living room and saw them sitting close together, their heads bowed. 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.

“All good!” Mom said, standing up quickly and wiping her hands on her pants. “Just discussing, uh, holiday plans.”

It didn’t feel all good. And Jeff’s behavior didn’t help. He started acting overly attentive, bringing me coffee in bed, folding laundry without being asked, and even offering to do the grocery shopping.

I should’ve been happy, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like he was trying too hard.

At that moment, I was sure something was going on behind my back, but I wasn’t sure confronting my mom and Jeff directly would help.

I knew I had to do something.

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

“She always comes on Tuesdays,” she said.

“Really?” I asked. “Maybe she’ll come this time too.”

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

That day, I left work early, determined to see what was happening.

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

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

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

“This is perfect,” he murmured.

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

What I saw wasn’t what I had imagined.

My mom was there, yes.

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

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

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

“Oh, so you’re not sneaking into my house every afternoon to play with my husband?” I snapped.

“Brisa, calm down,” Jeff said. “It’s not like that at all.”

Mom sighed and set the oil down.

“Okay, I can explain,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about switching careers, Brisa. I told you about it, remember?”

I nodded.

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

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

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

I couldn’t believe that’s what Mom and Jeff had been hiding from me. Had I really jumped to such wild conclusions?

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

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

“Yes,” Mom said, her voice soft now. “I didn’t want 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.”

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

Mom leaned forward, taking my hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted to make you feel like something was wrong.”

At that moment, I realized how quickly I had been to jump to conclusions. My mom wasn’t sneaking around. She was pursuing a passion. And my husband wasn’t betraying me. He was simply supporting her.

“I’m sorry too,” I said. “I made such absurd assumptions without investigating anything… And Mom, I’m sorry for not believing in you. Go ahead, please. Become a massage therapist. You have all my support.”

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

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

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

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

It was a Christmas full of love, trust, and new beginnings.