The living room was filled with the soft glow of Christmas lights, wrapping paper strewn across the floor as Melanie and Michael eagerly tore into their gifts. Michael sat on the floor, happily babbling to himself as he tried to peel off more tape than the paper required, while Melanie ripped into hers with wild excitement.

Simon sat back on the couch, one arm draped over the side, watching with quiet satisfaction. This Christmas had been tight. With you out of work, almost everything under the tree came from Simon’s long hours and overtime. There weren’t many presents, but enough to bring some joy to the kids—or so you both thought.

Melanie ripped open a box, and her face immediately twisted into disappointment.

“I didn’t ask for this!” she shouted, tossing the toy aside like it had offended her. “I hate it!”

The room went quiet. Even Michael, obliviously chewing on a ribbon, looked up.

You shot Simon a glance, hoping for a soft word, but Simon had already leaned forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Melanie.

“Oi,” his voice dropped, stern and steady. “That’s enough.”

Melanie crossed her arms, lips trembling in frustration.

Simon pointed at the discarded gift, his brow furrowed. “Pick it up. Now.”

She hesitated but obeyed, snatching it back off the floor.

“You don’t get to talk like that, not about a gift someone worked hard to give you,” he continued, voice firm but controlled. “You don’t have to like it, but you will be grateful. Understand?”

Melanie’s small face scrunched up, but she nodded silently, shoulders slumping.

Simon leaned back, watching her carefully. “Good. Now apologize to your mum.”

Melanie turned to you, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry, Mum.”