Suppressed anger

The words hung in the air between them. He didn’t miss the sadness in her voice when she said it. He didn’t want to push or pry. He wanted her to open up to him of her own free will, so he waited. The emotions danced around her face as she battled with the idea of opening up.

Finally, she exhaled and looked up at him, “Until the woman came and Christmas was never the same again...” She paused, “My dad suddenly had to be at work every Christmas morning, and every other holiday. The first year, my mother and I had Christmas on our own...” She shook her head, “It wasn’t the same, but we held out hope for the next year...”

He nodded.

“Of course, my mother found out earlier, and she let me believe the lie that he was working and he couldn’t make time for a couple of years...” She dryly chuckled, “I was so dumb.”

He took her hand in his, “No, you weren’t.”

She glanced at their linked hands, grateful for the warmth they provided her, “I found o