Lora is still mourning her husband, and her favorite holiday, Christmas, only reminds her of him. Lora still doesn’t know how to tell her daughter, Kira, that her father won’t be home for Christmas. But just as she musters the courage to tell the truth, Santa Claus appears to save Christmas.
Lora strolled through the bustling mall, the festive chaos around her a stark contrast to the dark weight in her heart. Shoppers chatted and laughed, their carts overflowing with holiday treasures.
Twinkling lights lined each window, reflecting off the shiny ornaments and casting a warm glow.
Familiar Christmas carols play over the speakers, their joyful tunes almost seeming to invade his melancholy.
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Sandra walked beside her, holding up decorations and chatting animatedly.
“Oh, Lora, look at that one!” she said, picking up a delicate glass snowflake ornament. It caught the light and shone as if dusted with frost.
Lora managed a small smile and nodded. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, but her gaze fell on a shelf of Santa figurines.
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Each wore the same jovial expression, and their red suits and fluffy white beards reminded her painfully of John. A wave of sadness washed over her, and she looked away, pretending to study something else.
Sandra noticed her friend’s change in attitude. She placed the decoration back on the shelf and gently touched Lora’s arm.
“You’ve been quiet all afternoon. Are you okay?”
Lora sighs, her shoulders slumping.
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“It’s just… this time of year was always so special to John. He loved Christmas, Sandra. Every year, he dressed up as Santa Claus for Kira.
She was so excited to see him, she ran down the stairs to catch him by the tree. He made this holiday magical for her. But this year…”
Her voice cracks and she pauses to steady herself.
“This year, he’s not here. Kira keeps asking when Father will come, and I don’t have the heart to tell her.”
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Sandra squeezed Lora’s arm reassuringly. “You haven’t told her yet?”
“No.” Lora shook her head, her voice trembling.
“She’s only six, Sandra. I told her John works far away. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t ruin her childhood. Not this year.”
Sandra frowned thoughtfully, her expression a mixture of understanding and concern.
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“I understand, Lora. I really do. But you know she’s going to have to find out one day. You can’t protect her from the truth forever.”
“I know,” Lora whispers, her eyes filling with tears she tries to hold back.
“But not this Christmas. I just want her to be happy. Even if it’s just for a little while.”
Sandra put an arm around Lora’s shoulders, pulling her into a gentle hug.
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“You’re stronger than you think, you know. And you’re not alone in this. We’re here for you.”
Lora nodded, her lips curving into a small, appreciative smile.
“Thank you, Sandra. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
For a moment, the weight on his chest felt a little lighter, but John’s ache persisted, more vivid than ever against the backdrop of Christmas cheer.
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Back home, the cozy smell of pine needles fills the living room, mingling with the faint aroma of cookies baking in the oven.
Lora and Kira worked side by side, carefully unpacking the box of Christmas decorations that had been stored away since last year.
The fir tree, freshly chosen and placed in a corner, seemed to glow in the warm light of the room.
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“Mom, look at this one!” Kira said, holding up a small painted snowman ornament. “It’s my favorite!”
Lora giggles softly, takes the ornament, and hands Kira a hook.
“You picked the perfect spot to put it,” she said, watching her daughter stretch on tiptoe to reach a branch.
Kira giggled as the ornament hung crookedly on the lower part of the tree.
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She rushed to the box, grabbed handfuls of shiny ornaments, and threw them toward Lora.
“Hurry up, Mom! It has to be beautiful for Santa!”
Lora felt her heart ache at Kira’s innocent excitement. She smiled and knelt beside her daughter, helping her sort the decorations.
“It’s already very beautiful, my dear. But you’re right. Santa deserves that we do our best.”
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Kira twirled around, humming Christmas carols and ordering her mother around like a tiny foreman.
“Mom, put the red one there! No, higher! And the shiny one next to it!”
Finally, Kira pulled the glittering gold star from the bottom of the box. She held it up triumphantly.
“Now, Mom, the star! Put it on top!”
Lora took the star and climbed a stepladder to place it on the highest branch. When she came down, she turned to Kira.
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“What do you think? Is it perfect?”
Kira stepped back, hands on her hips, studying the tree.
Her eyes sparkle and she declares, “It’s almost perfect! But Santa will make it better when he comes!”
Lora froze, her hands clasped in front of her. The warmth she felt a few moments ago was replaced by a sharp pang of sadness.
“Darling, about Santa Claus…” she began hesitantly.
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“I can’t wait to see it!”
“He always eats the cookies I make, and I always catch him by the stairs! He’ll come, won’t he, Mommy?”
Lora bit her lip, her smile fading. She knelt down and brushed a stray curl from Kira’s forehead.
“We’ll see, darling,” she said softly, her voice trembling.
“Now let’s add the candy canes.”
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How could she explain that John—her husband, Kira’s Santa—wouldn’t be coming this year?
Lora sighs and stands, forcing a smile as she joins Kira by the tree. For now, she’s decided to hold on to this moment of happiness, even if it’s bittersweet.
Christmas Eve arrived with a quiet magic filling the house. Fairy lights cast a soft, golden glow across the living room, reflecting off the ornaments on the tree.
The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies, which Kira carefully arranged on a festive plate.
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She placed it on the hearth, next to a glass of milk, her face beaming with impatience.
“Now we wait,” Kira whispers, her excitement overflowing, as she grabs her favorite blanket and sneaks behind the stairs. It was her favorite spot to spy on Santa.
Lora stayed back, watching her daughter with a mixture of love and guilt. Kira’s absolute conviction that Santa would come made the lump in Lora’s throat harder to swallow.
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How could she break her daughter’s heart by telling her the truth? She smoothed her hands over her sweater and walked over, kneeling beside Kira.
“Kira, darling,” Lora began softly, her voice cautious. “Maybe Santa will come later. Why don’t you go to bed so he can surprise you in the morning?”
“No, Mommy!” Kira protests, her little face crinkling with determination. “I always see him when he comes. He has to come.”
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Lora felt her resolve waver, tears pricking her eyes. There was nothing left to avoid. She gently took Kira’s hand in hers, her own trembling slightly.
“Kira,” she began again, her voice thick with emotion, “there’s something I need to tell you about Santa and Papa…”
But before the words could leave her mouth, the soft sound of footsteps filled the room. Lora froze, her breath caught in her throat.
There, a figure dressed in a red suit knelt down, holding out a cookie.
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“Santa Claus!” Kira screams, leaps out of hiding, and throws herself into his arms. “You came!
The man in the Santa suit chuckles heartily, his stomach trembling. “Oh, you’ve caught me again, little one! Ho ho ho!” he says, his voice rich and warm.
Lora stared, her heart pounding, as Sandra appeared in the doorway, dressed in an elf costume, her face lit up with a mischievous smile.
Lora’s breath caught when she realized what was happening. It was Rick, her brother, Sandra’s husband, playing Santa Claus.
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Kira’s laughter echoed through the living room, filling the space with a joy Lora hadn’t heard in what seemed like forever.
Kira tugged on Santa’s red sleeve, her excitement overflowing.
“Did you like the cookies? I helped Mom make them!” she said proudly.
Santa Claus, Rick in disguise, chuckles heartily and nods.
“These are the best cookies I’ve had all year! You must be quite the baker, kiddo,” he said, his deep voice perfectly imitating the jovial character.
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“And have you been a good girl this year?”
“Oh, yes! The best!” Kira exclaims, nodding vigorously. She bounces on her toes, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Santa Claus, have you seen our tree? Isn’t it the most beautiful?”
“It’s the most beautiful tree I’ve ever seen,” Santa replies, leaning over with a twinkle in his eye.
Lora stood a few meters away, frozen to the spot. Her heart swelled with gratitude and emotion as she watched the scene unfold.
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Tears threatened to fall when Sandra approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” Sandra whispered, her voice soft but reassuring. “It’s Rick. We figured Kira didn’t need the truth this year—not yet.”
Lora turned to her friend, her vision blurred by tears. “Thank you,” she managed, her voice breaking.
“Thank you for all this.”
Sandra hugged her to comfort her.
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“Lora, you are not alone. John may be gone, but we are still here. We are here for you. We will always be there for you, especially when you need us most.”
At that moment, Kira ran back to her mother, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Mom! Santa said my tree is the best he’s ever seen!”
Lora knelt down and hugged her daughter.
She kisses Kira’s forehead. “It’s true,” she whispered.
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“And you’re the best little girl Santa could ever visit.”
As the evening wore on, Sandra and Rick stayed to share hot chocolate and stories by the tree. For the first time in months, Lora felt a glimmer of peace.
The pain of missing John persisted, but the love that surrounded him eased the pain.
She realized Sandra was right. There would come a day when Kira would need to know the truth, but tonight wasn’t that day. Tonight, the magic of Christmas remained intact.
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When Sandra and Rick finally left, Lora hugged her friend. “I’ll never forget this,” she said softly.
“Thank you for reminding me that I am not alone.”
Sandra smiled warmly. “That’s what family is for.”
Later, as Lora tucked Kira into bed, she held her daughter’s hand a little longer, watching her drift into a peaceful sleep.
The pain of loss was still there, but so was the love—enduring and abundant. Christmas, she thought, is made up of moments like this.
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