Christmas morning froze in an instant. My five-year-old son, Simon, tore open a gift and yelled with pure excitement, “The other mom kept her promise! I knew it!”
My husband, Mike, went pale. His face drained of color, and the longer he stayed silent, the more I realized—this wasn’t some simple mistake.
Mike and I had been married six years. We had a sweet, lively five-year-old, Simon. Life wasn’t perfect, but it felt stable, predictable, and safe. Or at least, I thought it did.
Of course, every marriage has cracks. Little moments when things don’t feel right. I’d noticed Mike seemed distant sometimes, preoccupied, but I ignored it. I convinced myself it wasn’t serious… I was wrong.
I should have paid more attention back in the spring when the babysitter situation happened. We’d started having weekly date nights to reconnect, to reignite the spark in our marriage.
Mike’s colleague had recommended a babysitter, a young woman in college. Everything seemed fine. Simon adored her. Our dates went smoothly. But then, one evening, Mike told me we had to fire her.
“I think she has a crush on me,” he said, frowning. “Whenever we’re alone in a room together, she says things…”
“What things?” I asked, suspicious.
Mike shrugged. “Compliments… about my suit, my cologne. Nothing huge. Just… weird.”
We let her go. At the time, I appreciated that Mike had been honest. I felt reassured that we were still a team, still paying attention. I ignored the tiny voice in the back of my head telling me he hadn’t told me the whole story. I thought I was just being paranoid. I was wrong.
I thought the hard parts were behind us. I got comfortable. I stopped checking over my shoulder. I thought routine meant safety.
Christmas morning proved me wrong.
It started like any other: wrapping paper scattered across the living room, a cold cup of coffee on the side table, and Simon bouncing around like a human jack-in-the-box, thrilled with the magic of the morning.
We’d carefully picked out every gift together… or so I thought.
Mike handed Simon a medium-sized box. “This one’s from Santa,” he said with a smile.
I smiled back. It was tradition—one special gift from Santa. Simon ripped off the wrapping paper, froze for a split second… and then his face lit up like he’d been hit with a bolt of electricity.
Inside was an expensive collector-style model car. Simon had wanted it for ages, but Mike and I had agreed it wasn’t worth spending that much for a five-year-old.
Simon clutched it to his chest, shouting, “YES! The other mom kept her promise! I knew it!”
My chest went cold. “The… other mom?”
Simon nodded, still grinning. “She said if I was really good, she’d make sure I got it for Christmas.”
I turned slowly to Mike. His face was pale, his eyes avoiding mine.
“Who is the other mom?” I asked, my voice steady despite the panic rising inside me.
Simon looked between us, uncertainty creeping onto his face. “Dad knows her,” he said softly. “She comes sometimes. She told me not to worry.”
“Not to worry?” I repeated, my mind racing. Worry about what?
“Mike? Care to explain?”
Mike’s lips moved, but no words came. Fear filled his eyes.
“She said we’d go on a trip soon. Me, her, and Daddy,” Simon added, frowning. “You will have to work, Mommy, that’s what she said.”
Mike finally spoke. “Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
I nodded. Once the door closed behind us, I turned to face him.
“Start talking, Mike. Who’s this ‘other mom,’ and why is she giving our son expensive gifts?”
“It’s… Megan,” he admitted.
“Megan? The babysitter we fired because you said she was behaving inappropriately?”
“Yes. But it’s not what you think, I swear!”
“So you’re not having an affair with her?” I demanded.
Mike rubbed his hands nervously. “No, no! I just… I’ve been such a fool. After we let her go, Megan started messaging me. She apologized, said she didn’t mean to make me uncomfortable. Said she was just being friendly.”
“Friendly,” I said, crossing my arms. “Real friendly.”
Mike nodded. “I thought maybe I misunderstood. I told her it was fine but we’d continue with the new babysitter. Then… she asked to see Simon. Said she missed him and just wanted to say hi.”
“What? And you agreed?”
“I… I didn’t want Simon to be sad,” he said. “I thought it would be harmless. Just one visit.”
“This doesn’t sound like one visit, Mike.”
“It wasn’t. At first, it seemed innocent. She’d come by when you were at work, play with him for a while, then leave.”
“And then?”
Mike hesitated. That pause told me everything.
“Then I overheard her telling him to call her his ‘other mom.’ She told him to keep it secret from you… I felt sick. I realized she’d gone too far. I told her to stop coming, that she was crossing a line.”
“And?”
“I made a huge mistake,” he admitted. “She cried. Said she’d fallen in love with me. I told her never to come back, but… I see now it was wrong to say that. Because the gift Simon opened… I didn’t put it under the tree.”
My heart sank. “What are you talking about?”
Mike swallowed. “When I picked it up, I thought it was one of ours. The full weight of it hit me then. Megan had been in our house without telling us.”
The thought made my stomach turn. What else had she done while in our home?
Simon walked in at that moment. One look at his face told me he’d been listening.
“Mom, is the other mom bad?”
I knelt down, keeping my voice calm. “She’s… confused, sweetie.”
He frowned. “She came to see me at school. She said she needed a key to our house for Christmas, so she could surprise us for Christmas dinner.”
Mike and I looked at each other in horror. She had asked Simon for a key. She’d been in our house. She’d left a gift and planned some mysterious ‘surprise.’
I kissed Simon’s forehead. “Honey, why don’t you pick another gift and open it? I need to talk to your dad.”
Simon hesitated but nodded. I didn’t close the door—I needed to make sure he wouldn’t overhear the next part.
“Mike, screenshot every message Megan sent you,” I said firmly.
He nodded.
“And call the cops. I need them at her apartment.”
“What? I can’t go over there!” he said, panicked.
“Yes, Mike! She was in our house, gave Simon a gift, and planned some ‘surprise’ Christmas dinner. I don’t feel safe with her near our family.”
The drive to her apartment felt unreal. Christmas lights blurred past my windshield as Simon’s words echoed in my head: a key, a surprise dinner.
I knocked once. Megan opened the door, frozen. She wore an apron. Foil-covered dishes lined her counter.
“What are you doing here?” she spat, hate in her eyes.
“I’m here because you broke into my house and manipulated my son and my husband,” I said, standing my ground.
Her eyebrows arched. “Is that what Mike told you? And you believed him?”
Doubt surged, but the fear in Mike’s eyes had been real.
“I’m in love with Mike,” she smirked. “I’ve been preparing a special Christmas dinner for my boys… just needed you out of the way.”
I realized I had come alone. Very bad idea.
Luckily, backup arrived. Two police officers appeared just as she lunged at me. I ran to them.
Megan was arrested. She kept repeating she’d done nothing wrong and that Simon had asked her to be his ‘other mom.’
She was sentenced to probation with mandatory psychiatric treatment. There’s a restraining order that lasts three years.
Christmas, the day meant for joy, had almost turned into a nightmare. But we made it through, shaken but safe.