Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn’t be visiting. “I won’t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!” her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.
The end of autumn and the beginning of winter had always been my favorite time of year.
Сrisp air carried the smell of woodsmoke, and the golden leaves gave way to the first frost.
It was the season when my family would gather, no matter what, to share holiday dinners and exchange thoughtful gifts.
Those gatherings were the heart of my childhood, moments of warmth and laughter that felt like nothing else in the world.
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But since marrying Peter, those moments had become memories. Each year, I found myself on the phone, explaining to my parents why I couldn’t make it.
Why, once again, I’d be spending the holidays with Peter’s family instead of my own.
My mom would try to sound understanding, but I knew it hurt her. It hurt me too.
This year, though, things were going to be different. For the first time, Peter had agreed to spend Thanksgiving with my parents.
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It had taken weeks of discussion—if you could call the arguments discussions—but he finally relented.
And now, here we were, strolling through the grocery store, picking out a bottle of wine for my mom, a new roasting pan for my dad, and the ingredients for the pumpkin pie I wanted to bake.
I clutched a small bundle of festive napkins with turkeys printed on them and held them up for Peter’s opinion.
He shrugged. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and it had been simmering all day.
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“Are you okay, love?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yeah. Couldn’t be better,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
I sighed.
“Are you still upset about going to my parents’ house?”
He stopped walking and turned to me, his face tight with frustration. “Of course, I’m upset! Why should I skip my family’s holiday for your whims?”
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“My whims?” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “I’ve done this for you every single year since we started dating, Peter. Every. Year.”
“Oh, here we go,” he said with a bitter laugh. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? You didn’t like this, you didn’t like that. What about me? Why don’t you care if I’m happy?”
“Peter,” I said slowly, keeping my voice as steady as possible, “we’ve already talked about this. I just want one season with my parents. If that’s too much for you, maybe we should celebrate separately.”
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His eyebrows shot up.
“Season? Are you saying you’re skipping Christmas with my family too?”
“Yes,” I replied firmly, though my stomach churned.
“This year, I’m spending the holidays with my parents.”
He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound.
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“Fine. Then you can explain that to my parents.”
“I will,” I said, keeping my tone quiet and even.
I felt wrung out, as if every ounce of energy had been drained by this conversation. I just wanted it to be over.
We stood in the aisle for a moment, the silence between us louder than the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead.
He grabbed the cart handle and pushed it forward without another word.
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I followed, clutching the napkins to my chest, trying to hold on to the excitement that had felt so real just hours ago.
The tension hung heavy in the car as we neared my parents’ house.
Peter gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a way that warned me not to push too hard. But I couldn’t let it go entirely.
“Peter,” I started softly, “please, just be kind to my parents. They’re excited to see us, and they’re nervous about making a good impression.”
He let out a sharp laugh.
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“Oh, great! Now you’re giving me instructions? Should I juggle for them too? Or maybe do a little dance?”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’m not asking for much. I just want this to go well.”
“Well,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly, “maybe you should’ve just invited them to join us at my family’s house. Wouldn’t that have been easier?”
I shook my head, exasperated. “Peter, they’re old. Traveling for the holidays isn’t easy for them.”
“Great. Just perfect!” he muttered, throwing one hand up dramatically before gripping the wheel again.
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The rest of the drive was silent except for the hum of the engine.
I focused on the frosty trees lining the road, trying to calm the knot in my stomach.
When we arrived, I forced a smile and rang the doorbell.
My mom, Charlotte, opened the door almost immediately, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around us.
“I’m so happy to see you! Finally, you’re here!” she exclaimed, her warmth like a balm to my nerves.
Behind her, my dad, Kevin, offered a small, reserved smile, his usual quiet presence grounding the moment.
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Peter muttered a half-hearted “hello” and walked inside without eye contact.
I gave my mom an apologetic look, silently willing her to understand. Then, with a deep breath, I followed him into the house.
Inside the warm glow of the house, my mom and I moved around the dining room, setting the table with care.
The soft clatter of plates and the occasional hum of her voice filled the space as we arranged the dishes.
In the living room, Peter sat stiffly on the couch, his arms crossed, while my dad quietly flipped through a magazine beside him.
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Mom glanced toward Peter, her movements slowing. “Is Peter okay?” she asked softly. “He seems… upset.”
I hesitated, trying to find the right words.
“He’s just… frustrated, I think,” I said finally, keeping my voice low. “He wishes we were spending the holiday with his family.”
Her hands paused mid-air, holding a serving spoon. “Oh,” she said, her tone tinged with confusion and sadness. “Did we do something wrong?”
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“No, Mom,” I said quickly. “It’s not you. It’s just—” I stopped, unsure how to explain the unspoken tension between Peter and me. “It’s complicated.”
She looked at me, her brows drawn together.
“We’re not family to him?” she asked quietly, almost to herself.
Her words hit me like a cold wind. I didn’t know how to respond.
Was that how Peter saw it? My family, my parents—were they nothing to him? The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.
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“I’m sorry,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. For Peter’s mood? For his indifference? For years I’d put my family on hold for his?
Mom placed a hand on my arm, her touch warm and steady.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart,” she said gently.
But her eyes still held a shadow of hurt, and it lingered in the air as we finished setting the table in silence.
The table was set beautifully, with crisp white linens, shining silverware, and the aroma of roasted turkey filling the room.
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My mom, Charlotte, stood back to admire her work before clapping her hands.
“Everything’s ready! Come and eat!” she said with cheerful warmth, her voice echoing into the quiet living room.
We all gathered around the table. My dad, Kevin, pulled out my mom’s chair for her, and I couldn’t help but smile at his small gesture of old-fashioned chivalry.
Peter followed sluggishly, barely making an effort to engage, and slumped into his seat with a sigh.
The meal began, but the air was tense like a storm waiting to break. My mom tried valiantly to spark a conversation.
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“So, Peter,” she started brightly, “how’s work going? Busy this time of year?”
He gave a noncommittal grunt, stabbing a piece of turkey with his fork.
“Dad’s been working on the deck in the backyard,” I chimed in, trying to fill the silence. “It’s really coming together.”
My dad nodded. “It’s slow, but it keeps me busy. Maybe you could come by and give me some tips, Peter.”
Peter didn’t even look up. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, flicking a crumb off the table.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Peter,” I said softly, leaning toward him, “what’s wrong? Can I help?”
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He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter and leaned back in his chair. “Everything’s wrong!” he snapped, his voice loud enough to make my mom flinch.
“How is this even Thanksgiving without my mom’s chocolate pudding?”
“Pudding?” my mom echoed, her voice unsure, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her glass of water.
“It’s fine,” I interjected quickly, trying to calm the situation. “His mom always makes it for him. It’s no big deal.”
Peter scoffed, his eyes blazing. “No big deal? Of course! Because nothing I want ever matters. It’s always about Sarah, isn’t it? What Sarah wants. What Sarah needs.”
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“Peter, please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “This is supposed to be a happy day.”
He pushed his chair back, the chair’s legs screeching against the floor. “Listen, I’m done! We’re leaving. Get your coat, Sarah!”
“NO, YOU LISTEN!” my dad shouted after Peter, jumping up from his chair. But Peter just ignored him and walked right past! I saw my dad clutch his chest.
The weight of the moment pressed on me as I stood slowly. My mom’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, Mom,” I said, my throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.”
I walked to the doorway, where Peter stood waiting, arms crossed.
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“Put your coat on! We’re leaving!” he barked.
“No,” I said, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. “You’re leaving. I’m staying.”
“What? You’re my wife. You’re supposed to listen to me!”
I took a deep breath, meeting his glare.
“You don’t respect my parents, you don’t respect me, and behaving like this, you don’t even respect yourself. I’ve put up with your selfishness for years, hoping the loving man I married was still there. But now, I don’t believe he is.”
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“You want to talk about respect?” he sputtered, disbelief written all over his face.
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “Leave, Peter. It’s over.”
His mouth opened, but no words came. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
I returned to the dining room, my heart pounding, and found my parents sitting quietly, their faces a mixture of sadness and concern.
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“I’m sorry, Mom. Dad,” I said, my voice soft but resolute.
“I let this go on for too long. But not anymore.”
Charlotte stood and wrapped me in a warm hug. “You’re home now. That’s all that matters,” she whispered.
For the first time in years, I felt free. I had chosen the family that truly mattered and wouldn’t trade them for anything.
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Mom Sets Up Baby Monitor in Son’s Room and Is Alarmed by Movement She Spots
“How will I manage everything like this? I wish you were here, John! I miss you!” the woman thought as she proceeded to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.
Almost a year ago…
When doctors told Alicia Silvers and her husband John that they wouldn’t have children, they decided to travel around the world. Shows at the Sydney Opera House, tranquil beaches in Honolulu, tables and buffets in Las Vegas, and majestic fjords in Bergen.
They were going to schedule a trip to the Bahamas when Alicia discovered that she was pregnant. She and John were overjoyed and returned to their hometown Fayetteville, North Carolina, to celebrate the moment with close friends and neighbors.
Alicia and John were both orphans, and they were raised in foster care. Alicia was a stay-at-home wife, while John worked as the managing director of a firm that made parts for household electronics.
They had all they could have wanted in a happy marriage. They had a wonderful home in a lovely area, they enjoyed each other’s company, and now they had the delight of becoming parents. But sadly, this happiness didn’t last long, as Alicia’s world came crumbling down one fateful evening.
“Hello? Am I talking to Alicia Silvers?”
“Yes? How may I help?”
“This is Officer Duncan, ma’am. I’m sorry to inform you that your husband was killed in a terrible car accident on Farm Road Highway. We got your contact number from his phone. We’d appreciate it if you could come and confirm the body as soon as possible.”
Alicia couldn’t believe what she was hearing! That morning John had left telling her he was going out of town for a business meeting. She didn’t want him to leave and had told him she didn’t feel right about it. But he’d convinced her that she was overreacting and that everything would be fine.
Alicia was 7 months along with her pregnancy at the time. When John insisted on leaving for his meeting, she relented and kissed him goodbye. He’d promised to return soon, but when she heard the terrible news, she couldn’t bear the shock and went into labor.
Thankfully, she quickly dialed her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Hall, who rushed to her house and called 911. Alicia was immediately rushed to the hospital, where she gave birth to a baby boy. However, due to his premature birth, he was admitted to the NICU for some time.
When Alicia and the baby were discharged from the hospital, she took over John’s business and began working to support her son. Understanding the company dynamics didn’t take her long because she had an MBA. Problems arose because Edduin was very small and constantly demanded his mother’s attention.
John’s secretary, Madison, was extremely helpful to her and understood her situation, so she suggested that Alicia work from home and assisted her in setting up her workspace so that Alicia could care for her baby.
Yes, Alicia could have hired a nanny to look after the boy, but she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to look after her baby on her own, so she started working from home. In that way, somehow, Alicia managed to look after her son and work simultaneously.
Almost a year passed like that. Little did Alicia know she’d soon have another trouble knocking at her door.
The present-day…
As Alicia made a cup of coffee and proceeded to the living room, she arranged all her files and decided to take a final look at the reports for the day. It was around 1 a.m. It took her half an hour to wrap up the work, and the woman retired on the couch due to tiredness.
Suddenly, she awoke at 8 o’clock in the morning due to Edduin’s crying sound. She jumped to her feet and dashed over to him, where she discovered him with tears streaming down his cheeks like a waterfall.
“What happened, honey? Are you hungry?” she asked as she started rocking him. This was the second time in a week that Alicia had noticed Edduin was restless and crying uncontrollably during his sleep.
She looked inside his crib to see if there was anything that was poking him, but she couldn’t find anything. Finally, she concluded that he might be fine after a while and decided to wait and see if the crying continued.
Thankfully, Edduin’s abrupt crying stopped after a week or so, much to her relief, but he appeared to be very tired every day. He kept yawning and touching his face whenever she held him in her arms or tried to play with him, and the toys he’d previously adored seemed uninteresting to him.
Worried, she contacted a doctor about it, but even that didn’t seem really fruitful.
“I’m worried because he seems really calm most of the time, doctor, but he also looks tired in the mornings. Why is that so?” asked Alicia, worried.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Silvers. Babies seem to have a phase,” the doctor advised her. “Perhaps Edduin is going through the same.”
“But how long will it take for him to be fine? I’m really worried about him.”
“Don’t worry much, Mrs. Silvers. There is no such time frame, but everything will be fine. It varies from one baby to another.”
Thinking it was one of those phases, Alicia hoped Edduin would be fine soon. But even after a week, there was no relief, and Edduin just looked more tired with each passing day.
One afternoon, Alicia decided to check on him after putting him to sleep and heard a strange noise coming from his room. It seemed as if Edduin was giggling and there was someone in his room. At first, she thought it was just her suspicion because she burst open the door but didn’t find anyone inside.
Edduin was staring at her from his crib, and the room was strangely quiet. She looked in the bathroom, inside the cupboard, and under the bed, but no one was in the room.
Alicia returned to the living room, thinking it was work-related stress, but the activity continued the next day and the next. Every day, Edduin would jolt awake from his sound sleep, giggling or simply staring around the room.
Thinking something was off, Alicia installed a Wi-Fi baby monitor inside to keep a watch on Edduin and sat in the living room, watching the live feed.
She fixed her gaze on the screen, watching it intently, and everything appeared to be fine for the first few minutes. However, after about 10 minutes, she noticed a sudden movement in the room and Edduin’s lip tilting in a smile.
Fearing that someone had crept into Edduin’s room, Alicia dashed to his room and slammed the door open. Her hands trembled, and she shivered in terror as she realized her baby wasn’t alone in the room.
However, Alicia heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the visitor was no one but a cute little dog circling Edduin’s crib. He appeared dirty and weak, and he made a low sound that was difficult to hear.
When Alicia opened Edduin’s door, the little dog hid behind Edduin’s crib. Edduin began to giggle, and that’s when Alica understood what had happened.
It turns out that Alicia and John had a pet dog named Doblo, and they’d forgotten to close the dog door in the back of the room after he died. That room used to be Doblo’s game room, but it was converted into a nursery for Edduin after he died.
Since a lot had happened after John had left for his heavenly abode and Edduin was born, Alicia completely forgot to close the dog door. And that’s how the little dog got into the room, playing with Edduin all the time and refusing to let him sleep.
Alicia felt terrible for the poor animal after seeing it in that state and decided to adopt it. Casper, as she named him, is now Edduin’s best friend. A huge thanks to little Casper, now Edduin doesn’t cry as much, sleeps well because Alicia makes sure the two don’t spend all of their time together, and is a much happier baby.
What can we learn from this story?
Becoming a parent is not an easy task. Alicia managing her work and looking after her baby simultaneously is an excellent example of how parents go above and beyond for their children.
Learn to be kind to animals. Alicia adopted the dog after seeing he was in a terrible state.
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