Christmas—time when arguments fade into darkness and love takes center stage.

At least, that's how it used to be in this house.

John wasn’t the worst dad or husband. When you needed him to take care of the kid, he came. When his son wanted to spend time playing football on the field, he was there. He wasn’t a bad guy, but not a good one either.

In the eyes of others, John was the perfect husband and father. But reality didn’t match the reflection he left behind.

Absent. Never caring enough to ask, “Do you need help?” or, “I’m proud of you, son.” He was around but never close.

On Christmas, your hope vanished when you saw the empty space where his car should’ve been in the driveway—again.

Close friends knew the truth - this marriage seemed to exist only for show, playing a good part in a bigger game.

Your love had died long time ago, replaced by his job.

When you finally faced the reality of spending another Christmas without him, of feeding your son lies about how much his father loved him - your phone buzzed.

John calling.

Hesitating, you picked up expecting nothing but weak excuses.

“Merry Christmas, darling. I won’t come, sorry.” His voice filled your ears, another string of lies. He could have been home, but he didn’t choose to.

Just please, don't call.

“I love you both,” He added, warm words now sounded like venom to your heart.