When my 5-year-old daughter, Lily, handed me the letter she’d written to Santa, I expected toys and gadgets. But her last wish made my stomach drop. It wasn’t about her. It was about her grandma 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’s got the kind of curiosity that makes every day an adventure.
A little girl standing outside | Source: Midjourney
Whether it’s her endless questions about why the sky is blue or her fascination with how cookies bake in the oven, Lily’s 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 mostly smooth sailing. We’ve had our share of ups and downs, but we’ve managed to build a good life together.
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He’s a great Dad to Lily. She loves it when he plays tea party with her or reads bedtime stories. Watching the two of them together makes me feel like I won the marriage lottery.
As Christmas approached, Lily was bubbling with excitement to write her annual letter to Santa. It’s a tradition we’ve had since her very first Christmas when she was too young to hold a crayon.
This year, she insisted on doing most of it herself.
A little girl holding a pen | Source: Midjourney
“I’m a big girl now, Mommy!” she declared, holding up a red marker with an exaggerated look of determination.
I decided to make it extra special by sitting with her to brainstorm her wishes. I figured there’d be a few predictable requests. Something pink, something glittery, maybe a toy she saw on TV. And for the most part, that’s exactly how it went.
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“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 Dad.”
An older woman | Source: Midjourney
What did she just say? I thought.
“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 three p.m. One time, I woke up and heard something. I saw Grandma’s bag and heard her voice in your bedroom. When I went in, Daddy was putting on his shirt. When I asked Grandma to play, they said they’d already played, so Grandma was leaving.”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
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I couldn’t believe her words. I thought she was making this up.
I laughed nervously. “Honey, 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 read into it. But a seed of doubt had already been planted.
Over the next few days, Lily’s innocent words kept replaying in my mind, no matter how much I told myself it was probably just a misunderstanding.
A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
My mom and… my husband? No, it couldn’t be. Jeff adored me, and my mom was, well, my mom. But still, there were little things I couldn’t ignore.
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For one, Mom had been dropping by more often in the afternoons, but only when I wasn’t home.
I called her to ask about it.
“Why don’t you come when I’m around, Mom?” I asked casually. “It’s been weeks since I last saw you.”
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“I just stopped by while going home from work,” she told me. “We’ll meet soon, honey.”
“Work? Oh. How’s it going?” I asked.
“It’s… okay,” she replied. “I’ve been thinking about switching my career now. I told you about it before as well. I—”
“Mom, please!” I cut her off. “You’re a lawyer and that’s perfect!”
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That’s all I got whenever I called her. She never visited when I was home.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
And then there was Jeff.
Lately, he’d been complaining about back pain, wincing every time he stood up or bent down. When I asked about it, he brushed me off with a quick, “It’s nothing serious.”
But now, that casual dismissal felt like another puzzle piece I couldn’t fit.
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 tucked behind some old socks.
It wasn’t mine, and I didn’t remember seeing it before.
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“What’s this?” I asked Jeff, holding up the bottle.
“Oh, that’s your mom’s,” he replied with a shrug. “She’s been, uh, 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.