“What about the kids? Do you not think Christmas is important?”
“It is!” he said defensively. “That’s why I’ll be back a few days before Christmas.
I’m not skipping it. You’ll have plenty of time to get everything ready.”
“Everything ready?” I repeated, incredulous. “You do realize I can’t just pull Christmas out of thin air, right?”
“Relax,” he said, waving off my concerns.
“I’ve already thought of everything. I’ll leave $100 for you to handle the food, decorations, and gifts. You’re amazing at budgeting.
You’ll figure it out.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell me it was a joke. He didn’t.
“Oliver,” I said slowly, “do you honestly think $100 is enough to cover Christmas for a family of five?”
“Well, maybe not all the fancy stuff,” he admitted, “but you don’t have to go overboard. Keep it simple.
It’s about the spirit of Christmas, right?”
“The spirit of Christmas,” I repeated, my voice shaking. “You’re spending thousands to fly across the world for a game, and you’re leaving me with $100 to make Christmas work for our kids? Are you serious?”
“Jess,” he said, clearly irritated now, “it’s one Christmas.
Why are you blowing this out of proportion?”
I was livid.
“You know what? Fine. If that’s all you’re giving me, then I’m not hosting Christmas dinner.
You can explain to the kids why there’s no celebration.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he shot back. “You’re the mom. You’ll figure it out.”
He left for his trip a few days later, completely unfazed by our argument.
Meanwhile, I stayed with the kids. One afternoon, while cleaning out the junk drawer, I found an envelope with my name on it. Inside was the same $100 bill he’d mentioned, along with a note that read, Make it work.
You’re good at that. I stared at the note.
“You can’t be serious, Oliver,” I whispered to myself. That’s exactly when an idea began to form in my head.
An idea to get back at him in a way he didn’t expect. That evening, I sent him a text. Found your note.
Don’t worry, I’ll stick to the $100 and make everything work for Christmas. Thanks for thinking of us! His response came almost immediately.
I knew you’d understand!
You’re the best. Can’t wait to see what you come up with. Love you!
The nerve of this man. I stared at my phone, shaking my head. He was completely oblivious to how absurd his request was.
Didn’t he wonder why I’d suddenly agreed to stick to that ridiculous budget? Maybe he just didn’t care.
A day later, I went to the store and stretched that $100 as far as it could go. I bought a small turkey, a box of stuffing mix, a can of cranberry sauce, and a couple of frozen pies.
There wasn’t much left for decorations or gifts, so I grabbed a pack of dollar-store ornaments and a roll of wrapping paper. As for presents? I picked up a few small items for the kids and skipped the rest.
Then I sent out invitations. I made sure to invite both Oliver’s family and mine, knowing they’d all expect the usual lavish spread. If Oliver wanted to see what “making it work” looked like, he’d see it with an audience.
A few days later, he returned from his trip.
“The match was incredible!” he gushed as he set his bags down. “Best experience of my life.”
“That’s great,” I replied. “I hope you’re ready for Christmas.
I’ve been working hard to make everything perfect.”
“Of course,” he said with a grin. “Let me know how I can help.”
For once, he actually pitched in. He helped set the table, arrange chairs, and even put up the decorations.
On Christmas Day, the house was buzzing with guests. The kids were thrilled to see their grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and everyone gathered in the living room, chatting and exchanging stories. Oliver looked proud, as though this was all his doing.
When it was time for dinner, everyone moved to the table. Plates and utensils clinked as they settled in, ready for the feast. Oliver gave me a wink.
“You really pulled it off, Jess,” he whispered.
“I knew you could do it.”
I smiled back sweetly. “Wait until you see.”
Soon, I brought out the food. All I had prepared was a small platter of turkey, a modest bowl of stuffing, a handful of rolls, and a single can of cranberry sauce spooned into a dish.
I had placed the pies on the side, still in their frozen containers. ‘Shocked’ isn’t the appropriate word to describe what the guests felt. Everyone just stared at the table with wide eyes.
My mother-in-law was the one to break the silence. “Jessica,” she said slowly, “is this… is this all?”
“Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice cheerful. “This is what Oliver’s budget allowed.
He gave me $100 and told me to make it work.”
His mother turned to him. “You did what?”
“M-mom,” Oliver stammered. “It’s not a big deal.
Jess is great at budgeting. She always makes things work.”
“Oliver, are you serious?” his sister chimed in. “You spent thousands on a football trip and left Jessica with $100 for Christmas?
What were you thinking?”
I let them talk, watching as Oliver squirmed under their scrutiny. Finally, I reached for the envelope I’d found in the drawer and pulled out the note. “This,” I said, holding it up, “is what he left me.
‘Make it work,’ he said.”
The room erupted in murmurs. My mother shot me a sympathetic look, while my father shook his head in disapproval. Oliver’s family wasn’t as kind.
His mother scolded him, his sister berated him, and even his father, who was usually quiet, told him he should be ashamed. Oliver just sat there, staring at the table.
“Jess,” he started. “you could have just told me—”
“Oh, I did,” I interrupted.
“I told you $100 wasn’t enough. But you insisted. So, I followed your instructions and made it work.
That’s what you wanted, right?”
Then, with all eyes on me, I pulled out a second envelope from my pocket and placed it on the table. “And since we’re putting everything on the table,” I said, “here are the divorce papers. I can’t do this anymore, Oliver.
I won’t keep bending over backward while you prioritize yourself over this family.”
“You’re joking, right?” Oliver asked weakly. “I’m not,” I replied, standing up. “I’ve spent years trying to make it work with you.
Now, I’m done.”
Oliver looked at me like I’d committed a crime. “Jess, please,” he said. “I’ll do better.
I promise. I’ll change. Just… just please don’t do this.”
I looked at him, my heart aching for what could have been if he’d cared enough to try sooner.
But I’d heard these promises before, and I knew better than to believe them now. “It’s too late, Oliver,” I shook my head. “You’ve had years to do better, and you chose not to.
I’m done waiting for you to change.”
As I walked out of the dining room, his voice followed me, pleading for another chance. But for the first time in years, I didn’t feel weighed down by his words. This Christmas wasn’t just the end of a chapter.
It was the beginning of a life where I’d finally put myself and my kids first. I don’t know what fate has in store for me, but I know it will definitely be better than what I’ve been through. Source: amomama
