Margaret loved her husband and did everything he asked of her, which was a lot. But for years, she hadn’t been on the receiving end of that love. She had resigned herself to the idea that her life would always be this way — until she opened a strange box beneath the Christmas tree.

She slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Simon.

In the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon filled the air as she prepared his breakfast: two eggs sunny side up, bacon fried just so, fresh fruit arranged neatly on a plate, and for dessert, golden pancakes drizzled with jam.

Everything was done exactly how Simon liked it.

Margaret moved efficiently, her hands practiced from years of the same routine.

After wiping down the counters, she straightened the kitchen towel hanging on the oven and placed Simon’s breakfast on the table.

Taking a deep breath, she called upstairs, “Simon, dear, everything’s ready!”

A muffled response came from the bedroom.

“Finally… I thought you were going to starve me.”

Moments later, Simon trudged downstairs, already dressed in the navy suit Margaret had ironed the night before.

His tie hung loose around his neck, and he barely glanced at her as he pulled out a chair.

He picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, his brow furrowing immediately.

“The bacon isn’t crispy again,” he said flatly, letting out a heavy sigh.

Margaret’s heart sank. “Sorry, dear, I thought I cooked it enough.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Simon muttered, shaking his head.

“You always manage to ruin breakfast. Never mind, I’ll eat it as it is.”

Margaret hesitated, standing by the counter with a damp cloth in her hands.

“Dear, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Simon’s eyes didn’t leave his plate.

“What now?”

“Grace, our neighbor, is hosting a book club. I thought I might join…”

She spoke softly, rehearsed words tumbling out awkwardly.

Simon glanced up sharply.

“We’ve talked about this already, Margaret.”

“But I won’t stay long…”

“I don’t want you spending time with strangers. You should be here, where I know you’re safe.”

Margaret’s shoulders drooped.

“Alright, dear. I’m sorry,” she said quietly, retreating to the sink.

As she washed the dishes, her reflection in the window showed more than her hands working—it showed a woman struggling to find her own voice.

Simon stood impatiently at the door, tapping his foot as Margaret approached. She held the tie in her hands, smoothing it out before looping it around his neck.

Her fingers moved carefully, trying to get the knot just right. Simon let out a sigh.

“Could you hurry up? I’m running late,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Just one more moment,” Margaret replied, her voice calm but focused.

She avoided meeting his eyes, instead concentrating on the tie. Finally, she adjusted the knot, stepping back to inspect her work.

“There, all done,” she said, offering a small, hopeful smile.

“Finally!” Simon exclaimed, grabbing his briefcase. “I’m off.”

“See you tonight, dear. I love you!” Margaret called after him, but Simon didn’t respond. He walked briskly to his car without looking back.

The door clicked shut, and Margaret stood in the silence for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the kitchen, already planning her day.

She started cleaning, her hands working quickly as she polished surfaces and straightened decorations.

The Christmas tree, standing proudly in the living room, was only half-decorated.

Margaret pulled out boxes of ornaments, carefully hanging each one while humming softly. Time slipped by, unnoticed.

At exactly 10 a.m., a soft knock came at the window near the tree. Margaret’s face lit up, and she hurried over, pushing the window open. “Roy!” she greeted, her voice bright.

“Your delivery is here, Mrs. Margaret,” Roy said with a grin, handing her a package through the window.

“Do we really have to do this through the window every time? You know I have a door,” Margaret teased, laughing.

“It’s tradition now. We can’t break it,” Roy replied, his eyes sparkling.

Margaret chuckled, taking the package. “And what’s this?” she asked as Roy handed her a second item—a small ornament shaped like Santa.

“For you,” Roy said with a smile.

“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful! Thank you!” Margaret exclaimed, holding it up to admire.

“You act like no one’s ever given you a gift,” Roy said, his tone light but curious. “Doesn’t Simon spoil you?”

Margaret’s smile faltered.

“Simon doesn’t like giving gifts. He says I should just buy what I want. Surprises aren’t really his thing.”

Roy frowned slightly.

“Christmas is coming up. Surely he’s got something planned?”

Margaret looked down at the ornament.

“I bought myself a gift,” she said quietly. “It’s fine.”

She turned the ornament over in her hands, a soft smile returning to her face.

“This reminds me of my childhood. When I was in school, my best friend and I used to decorate the Christmas tree together. This was our favorite ornament.”

“What school did you go to?” Roy asked casually.

“Oakwood Valley High School,” Margaret replied.

At her words, Roy’s expression shifted. His face paled, and he looked momentarily frozen.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly.

Margaret blinked in surprise.

“Alright. Thanks for the delivery. See you next Wednesday!” she called after him, but Roy was already walking away.

She closed the window, holding the ornament tightly. For some reason, her heart felt a little heavier.

Evening fell, and the house grew quieter with each passing hour.

Margaret sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, glancing at the clock every few minutes.

The wrapped presents beneath the tree stared back at her, reminders of the effort she had poured into making the holiday special.

She reached for her phone again. Dialing Simon’s number felt both desperate and pointless, but the knot in her stomach wouldn’t let her rest.

The phone rang and rang until, finally, he picked up.

“Simon, where are you? Are you okay?” Her voice trembled, a mix of worry and hope.

“If I’m not answering, maybe I’m busy!” Simon’s tone was sharp, annoyed.

“I was worried,” Margaret said, lowering her voice. “I thought something happened. I thought we’d celebrate together.”

“I’m busy. I’ll be home later. Stop calling,” Simon said curtly. In the background, Margaret heard laughter and clinking glasses. It was unmistakably the sound of a party.

“Alright, I’ll wait for you…” she whispered, but he had already hung up.

Margaret lowered the phone and stared at the screen for a moment before setting it down.

When she glanced toward the tree, she noticed the room felt colder.

Her gaze shifted to the window, now slightly ajar. Frowning, she stood and walked over, pulling it closed. That’s when she saw it.

A package sat neatly beneath the tree, wrapped in simple paper she didn’t recognize. Margaret froze, her mind racing.

She knew every gift under that tree because she had bought and wrapped them all. This one wasn’t hers.

Slowly, she knelt and picked it up. Her fingers trembled as she peeled back the paper, revealing a small box.

Inside, she found an old friendship bracelet.

Tears filled her eyes as memories flooded back—laughter in the schoolyard, whispered secrets, promises exchanged under a tree.

She hurried to her jewelry box, fumbling to retrieve her own matching bracelet. They were identical.

Her hands shook as she unfolded the note tucked beneath the bracelet.

“I’ll be waiting for you where we made our promise.”

Margaret’s heart pounded. She knew exactly where that was.

She glanced around the empty house, feeling the weight of its silence.

Wiping her tears, she grabbed her coat, clutching the bracelets tightly. For the first time in years, she felt a spark of something she thought she’d lost—hope.

Without looking back, Margaret stepped out into the night.

The taxi slowed to a stop in front of the old school, its headlights casting faint shadows on the worn brick facade.

The place looked the same, yet different, like a memory blurred by time.

At the door, an elderly guard stepped into view, his face wrinkled but kind. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice steady but curious.

“Sorry, my name is Margaret,” she said quickly. “I know this is strange, but I need to go inside!” Her voice carried a mix of urgency and hesitation.

The guard’s eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Go ahead, Margaret. His waiting for you,” he said, pushing the door open with a nod.

She stepped inside, her boots echoing softly in the empty hallway. Following the faint glow ahead, she entered the assembly hall.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney