My Husband Went on a Business Trip Right Before Christmas — on Christmas Eve, I Found Out He Lied and Was Actually in Our City

My husband left on an “urgent” business trip just two days before Christmas. When I learned he had lied and was actually at a nearby hotel, I drove there. But when I burst into that hotel room, I froze in tears. The face looking back at me shattered my heart and turned my world upside down.

I always thought my husband and I shared everything. Every silly joke, every little worry, and every dream. We knew each other’s quirks and flaws, celebrated our victories together, and helped each other through rough patches. At least, that’s what I believed until Christmas Day when everything I thought I knew came crashing down around me.

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

“Andrea, I need to tell you something,” Shawn said, his fingers drumming nervously on our kitchen counter. “My boss called. He needs me to handle an emergency client situation in Boston.”

I looked up from my coffee, studying his face. There was something different in his expression. A flicker of… guilt? Anxiety?

“During Christmas?” my eyes widened.

“I know, I know. I tried to get out of it, but…” He ran his hand through his dark hair — a gesture I’d grown to love over our three years of marriage. “The client’s threatening to pull their entire account.”

A distressed man | Source: Midjourney

A distressed man | Source: Midjourney

“You’ve never had to travel on Christmas before.” I wrapped my hands around my coffee mug, seeking warmth. “Couldn’t someone else handle it?”

“Trust me, I wish there was.” His eyes met mine, then quickly darted away. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. We’ll have our own Christmas when I get back.”

“Well, I guess duty calls.” I forced a smile, though disappointment settled heavy in my chest. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight. I’m so sorry, honey.”

I nodded, fighting back tears. It was going to be our first Christmas apart since we’d met.

A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

That evening, as I helped Shawn pack, memories of our life together flooded my mind.

I remembered our wedding day, how his eyes lit up when I walked down the aisle, and the way he surprised me with weekend getaways. How he worked extra hours at the consulting firm to save for our dream house — the Victorian with the wrap-around porch we’d been eyeing.

“Remember our first Christmas?” I asked, folding his sweater. “When you nearly burned down our apartment trying to make a roast turkey?”

He laughed. “How could I forget? The fire department wasn’t too happy about that 3 a.m. call.”

A man laughing | Source: Midjourney

A man laughing | Source: Midjourney

“And last Christmas, when you got us those matching ugly sweaters?”

“You still wore yours to work!”

“Because you dared me to!” I tossed a sock at him, and he caught it with a grin. “The office still hasn’t let me live it down.”

His smile faded slightly. “I’m so sorry about this trip, darling.”

“I know!” I sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s just… Christmas won’t be the same without you.”

A worried woman sitting on the edge of the bed | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman sitting on the edge of the bed | Source: Midjourney

He sat beside me, taking my hand. “Promise you won’t open your presents until I’m back?”

“Cross my heart.” I leaned against his shoulder. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Every chance I get. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

As I watched him drive away, something nagged at the back of my mind. But I pushed the thought away. This was Shawn, after all. My Shawn. The man who brought me soup when I was sick and danced with me in the rain. And the man I trusted more than anyone in the world.

A man driving a car | Source: Unsplash

A man driving a car | Source: Unsplash

Christmas Eve arrived, bringing with it a blanket of snow and an emptiness I couldn’t shake. The house felt too quiet and too still. I’d spent the day baking cookies alone, watching Christmas movies alone, and wrapping last-minute gifts… alone.

Around 9 p.m., my phone lit up with Shawn’s call. My heart leaped.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” he said, his voice oddly strained.

“Merry Christmas! How’s Boston? Did you get the client situation sorted out?”

“It’s… uh… good. Listen, I can’t really talk right now. I have to go—”

A shocked woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

In the background, I heard what sounded like dishes clinking, muffled voices, and laughter.

“Are you at dinner? This late? I thought you had meetings?”

“I have to go!” he practically shouted. “Emergency meeting!”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my hands shaking. Emergency meeting? At 9 p.m. on Christmas Eve? With restaurant noises in the background? None of it made sense.

Then I remembered my fitness tracker! I’d left it in his car last weekend after our grocery run. With trembling fingers, I opened the app on my phone.

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Unsplash

A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Unsplash

The location pointer blinked back at me, mocking my trust. Shawn’s car wasn’t in Boston. It was parked at a hotel right in our city, less than 15 minutes from our house.

My world stopped spinning for a moment. Then everything rushed back in a tornado of thoughts.

A hotel? In our city? On Christmas Eve?

My mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Was he meeting someone? Had our entire marriage been a lie? The signs had been there… the nervous behavior, the quick departure, and the strange phone call.

“No,” I whispered to myself. “No, no, no.”

A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash

A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash

Without thinking twice, I raced to my car and headed straight to the hotel.

The drive passed in a blur of tears and terrible scenarios. Every red light felt like torture. Every second that ticked by was another moment my imagination ran wild with possibilities I couldn’t bear to consider.

Sure enough, there sat Shawn’s silver car, right in the parking lot when I arrived.

The sight of it — the car I’d helped him pick out, the car we’d taken on countless road trips — made my stomach churn.

A silver car in a hotel's parking lot | Source: Midjourney

A silver car in a hotel’s parking lot | Source: Midjourney

My hands shook as I marched into the lobby, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Christmas music played softly in the background like a cruel mockery.

The receptionist looked up with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”

I pulled out my phone, bringing up a photo of Shawn and me from last summer’s beach trip. My thumb brushed across his smiling face.

“This man is my husband. Which room is he in?”

An anxious woman at a hotel reception area | Source: Midjourney

An anxious woman at a hotel reception area | Source: Midjourney

She hesitated. “Ma’am, I’m not supposed to—”

“Please, I need to know. He told me he was in Boston, but his car is right outside. Please… I have to know what’s going on.”

Something in my expression must have moved her. Maybe it was the tears I couldn’t hold back, or maybe she’d seen this scene play out before. She typed something into her computer, glancing at my phone again.

“Room 412,” she said and slid a keycard across the counter. “But miss? Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.”

I barely heard her last words as I rushed toward the elevator.

An agitated woman in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

An agitated woman in an elevator | Source: Midjourney

The elevator ride felt eternal. Each floor dinged past like a countdown to disaster. When I finally reached the fourth floor, I ran down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the carpet.

Room 412. I didn’t knock… just swiped the keycard and burst in.

“Shawn, how could you—”

The words died in my throat.

There was Shawn, standing beside a wheelchair.

And in that wheelchair sat a man with silver-streaked hair and familiar eyes — eyes I hadn’t seen since I was five years old. Eyes that had once watched me take my first steps, had crinkled at the corners when he laughed at my jokes and had filled with tears the day he left.

An older man in a wheelchair | Source: Midjourney

An older man in a wheelchair | Source: Midjourney

“DADDY?” The word came out as a whisper, a prayer, and a question I’d been asking for 26 years.

“ANDREA!” my father’s voice trembled. “My little girl.”

Time seemed to freeze as memories crashed over me: Mom burning all his letters after the divorce… moving us across the country. And me crying myself to sleep, clutching the last birthday card he’d managed to send — the one with the little cartoon puppy that said: “I’ll love you forever.”

“How?” I turned to Shawn, tears streaming down my face. “How did you…?”

An emotional woman in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney

An emotional woman in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney

“I’ve been searching for him for a year,” Shawn said softly. “Learned a few details about him from your mother a few months before she passed. Found him in Arizona last week through social media contacts. He had a stroke a few years back and lost his ability to walk. I drove down to get him yesterday… wanted to surprise you for Christmas.”

My father reached for my hand. His fingers were thinner than I remembered, but the gentle strength in them was the same.

“I never stopped looking for you, Andrea. Your mother… she made it impossible. Changed your addresses and moved so many times. But I never stopped loving you. Never stopped trying to find my little girl.”

An emotional older man | Source: Midjourney

An emotional older man | Source: Midjourney

I fell to my knees beside his wheelchair, sobbing as he pulled me into his arms. His cologne, the same sandalwood scent from my childhood, wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

Every Christmas wish I’d ever made, every birthday candle I’d blown out, and every 11:11 I’d wished on — they’d all been for this moment.

“I thought…” I choked out between sobs. “When I saw the hotel… I thought…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Shawn knelt beside us. “I wanted to tell you so badly. But I needed to make sure I could find him first. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing you if it didn’t work out.”

An upset young man in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney

An upset young man in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to Shawn later, after emotions had settled somewhat and we’d ordered room service.

He pulled me close on the small sofa. “I wanted it to be perfect. Tomorrow morning, Christmas breakfast, your father walking… well, rolling in… the look on your face…”

“It is perfect!” I looked between the two men I loved most in the world. “Even if I ruined the surprise. Though I might have given myself a heart attack getting here.”

An emotional woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

An emotional woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

My father chuckled from his wheelchair. “You were always an impatient one. Remember how you used to shake all your Christmas presents?”

“Some things never change,” Shawn said, squeezing my hand.

“Remember the time I tried to convince you there was a fairy living in the garden?” Dad’s eyes twinkled. “You left out tiny sandwiches for a week.”

“I’d forgotten about that!” I laughed through fresh tears.

“I have 26 years of stories saved up,” Dad said softly. “If you want to hear them.”

“I want to hear everything.” I reached for his hand. “Every single story.”

A man sitting in a wheelchair and smiling | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in a wheelchair and smiling | Source: Midjourney

I rested my head on Shawn’s shoulder, watching as my father began telling tales of my childhood — stories I’d thought were lost forever. Snow fell softly outside, and somewhere in the distance, church bells began to ring on Christmas Day.

My father’s eyes twinkled. “Now, who’s ready to hear about the time five-year-old Andrea decided to give our dog a haircut?”

“I think what we’re all ready to hear,” Shawn said with a grin, “is how Andrea jumped to conclusions and thought her loving husband was up to no good on Christmas Eve!”

A cheerful man laughing | Source: Midjourney

A cheerful man laughing | Source: Midjourney

I groaned, but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“Never,” they both said in unison, and the sound of their laughter was the best Christmas gift I could have ever received.

An emotional woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

An emotional woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Wealthy Businessman Kicks Son out, Not Knowing the Boy Would Take over as Boss One Day – Story of the Day

When Christopher’s parents learned about his dreams of joining a fashion internship, they were dead set against his decision. They tried to persuade him otherwise and eventually kicked him out, not knowing the tables would be turned years later.

Christopher’s mother, beamed as she checked the college acceptance letters that had arrived for her son. Besides Dartmouth and Georgetown, Christopher had also made it to Stanford.

She couldn’t help but call out to her husband excitedly, and the parents rushed upstairs to their son’s room to make the big announcement. “Son! You got into Stanford! You did it!” his mother exclaimed.

“My boy! A Stanford man! I’m so proud of you!” his stoic father smiled as he hugged him tightly.

“Wait, guys!” Christopher tried to interject, but they weren’t listening. He should’ve guessed something was wrong when his parents, who weren’t the most affectionate or emotional people in the world, just barged into his room with smiles.

“Let’s call your grandparents! They’ll be so happy! Oh! And let’s plan a party!” Christopher’s mother went on as she joined her husband and son.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Stop, Mom!” Christopher snapped. “Please stop!”

“What’s wrong, son?” his mother frowned, pulling away.

“You’re wrong!” Christopher screamed, pulling away from his father. “I’M NOT GOING TO STANFORD!”

“But son, Stanford is our family legacy. All men have to go there,” his father added while his mother nodded in agreement.

“Guys, stop! Stop acting like I’m not here! I’m not going to Stanford or any of those stupid schools! Alright?”

“Chris!” his mother warned.

“No, Mom, let me speak. I tried to tell you, but you shut me down,” Christopher continued, reaching for the papers on his bed. “This…I’m going to New York. I got a fashion internship.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard face drained of blood, and his wife’s eyes bulged out in horror. “Fashion?! You must be out of your mind, boy!” h

“Dad, c’mon, you sell clothes! You should understand me!” Christopher tried explaining his dreams to them, but his parents turned a deaf ear to him.

“Well, I don’t make clothes, son! Or worse, design them! I own the business. I’m not going to spend my money on your stupid dream! You just proved we were failures as parents! You gotta leave! You’re worthless to me!” he said and walked away.

Christopher looked at his mother and held her hands. “Mom, it’s my dream. I need your help to convince Dad!” he pleaded with her.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

But his mother pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Our dream for you was Stanford, son. Sorry, but you need to leave this house.”

Those words stung Christopher, and he could hear his mother’s cry from his bedroom. But he was not going to give up on his dreams. So he packed his bags, called his friend Johnny, and left.

Christopher had decided that he would fly to New York with Johnny once he graduated high school. And that’s what he did.

Johnny’s parents took him in after he was kicked out of his home. And a couple of months later, after the boys graduated high school, they flew to New York.

Johnny was attending NYU while working at his uncle’s brokerage firm, and Christopher received a small stipend for his fashion internship but worked nights at a 24-hour market to pay the rest of his bills.

Christopher hadn’t heard from his parents since the day they kicked him out. In fact, they didn’t even come to his graduation or to see him off at the airport.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Things got tough for him ever since he had left home, and it was only after arriving in New York that he realized the path to his dreams was not going to be all roses.

There was a final project for his internship, a chance to show a small line to big design houses, but the materials and fabrics were costly, and Christopher realized he couldn’t afford his vision. So he called his father to ask for help.

“What do you want?” Richard angrily asked, answering the phone. The man didn’t even bother asking his son how he was doing.

“Hey, Dad,” Christopher said timidly. “I need your help. Actually, there’s a big opportunity coming up for me.”

“On what? To choose different kinds of pink?” his father said sarcastically.

“No, it’s not that,” Christopher explained that he would get a job instantly if they liked his project at the internship, and they would also fund his future education.

But Richard’s tone remained stiff. “So why are you telling me this?” he sneered, and Christopher could imagine his father rolling his eyes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“I need some money,” Christopher said, getting to the point. He was embarrassed but didn’t have a choice. “And it won’t be a handout. I’ll pay you back. The thing is, I can’t miss this chance. It might set me up for life.”

“Well, you’re an adult now, and you make your own choices. Deal with it. You should have gone to Stanford,” his father said heartlessly and hung up.

Christopher hadn’t cried months ago when his parents kicked him out, but he couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. He buried his face in the table before him and sobbed so heavily that Johnny came in.

“Hey, man, it’s OK,” he consoled Christopher and grabbed a chair. It took a few minutes for Christopher to calm down and narrate what had just happened.

“Why don’t you borrow some money from me?” Johnny suggested, but Christopher refused. He already owed their flat’s deposit to him.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Is there any chance you could take a break? Like when you defer a class?” Johnny suggested. He noticed Christopher looked unsure. “Look, you could ask them, and hey, I have a spot at my uncle’s firm. You could take that job, make enough money, and finish your internship.”

Christopher never wanted to work in an office. He had aspired to become a fashion designer. But then Johnny explained to him that if he performed well at the job, his uncle’s firm would pay for his school.

Christopher was always good with numbers, and the money was tight, so he accepted the offer. “I think that’ll work,” he nodded nervously.

“Cheer up, dude! You’ll be back in fashion in no time,” Johnny encouraged him, and Christopher nodded, telling himself that he would make his own money. He didn’t need his dad’s help.

Ten years later, things changed. Richard couldn’t bring himself to look at the papers piled on his desk. He had to make a decision on whether to file for Chapter 13 or sell his company.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard could try to start over, but he didn’t want another defeat. He failed miserably as a father when Christopher refused to join Stanford to pursue fashion.

“I’m going to toss a coin! Let destiny pick,” the older man thought and nodded, hurling away the papers on his desk in frustration. Right then, his secretary barged into his office.

“Richard, I found something!” she said and placed a document on his desk, pointing her finger at a name in the papers.

Richard’s eyes widened in shock. “Is this…But that’s impossible,” he muttered, reading more. Richard couldn’t believe his son’s name was included in the buyer profiles.

“I made some calls and confirmed it, sir. It might be a sign from the universe,” she said. “He has a stellar reputation. He worked for a brokerage firm and climbed the ladder quicker than most people. He also bought other struggling businesses and expanded in clothes, accessories, and much more. I think it’s worth trying.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Richard smiled and even let out a chuckle. His son was a real businessman, not a failed designer surviving on ramen in a dirty studio apartment. He decided he would sell the company to his son.

A few days later, Richard walked into his company’s conference room wearing a wide grin on his face. He confidently shook hands with everyone and smiled at his son.

Christopher sat surrounded by his lawyers. The negotiations had already taken place, and all that was left was signing papers. After that, the company would officially be his.

“Don’t be so serious, son. Your mother is outside. Let’s celebrate after we wrap this up,” Richard told his son, but Christopher didn’t accept the invitation.

His parents had refused to help when he needed it the most. It was Johnny who helped him get the job at the brokerage firm, and Christopher was so good that he quickly climbed to the top. But Christopher couldn’t return to fashion or the internship.

After Johnny moved out, Christopher had to keep working hard to afford living expenses, and his dreams of becoming a fashion designer disappeared. But when a deal with a clothes company came up, he saw a chance and took it.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

The company grew so much that Christopher expanded it. And he also offered scholarships and internship programs to fashion students, healing his past wounds and somewhat fulfilling his dreams.

“Mrs. Pattison,” Christopher called his father’s secretary after signing the papers, ignoring his father. “Richard should leave the building. And yes, this applies to his wife too.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Richard jumped to his feet in anger.

“Please be quick, or I’ll be forced to call security,” he told Mrs. Pattison, looking his father in the eyes. “I have no interest in going to dinner with you two! But yes, I do want to know one thing…Am I worthy enough now?”

Richard’s eyes were red in anger, but he nodded and walked away, escorted by security guards.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a father who tried to end his son’s craze for dance, only for the young boy to end up in the hospital.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

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