
Six months postpartum, drowning in baby laundry, and exhausted beyond words, I thought my husband would understand when our washing machine broke. But instead of helping, he shrugged and said, “Just wash everything by hand—people did it for centuries.”
I never thought I’d spend this much time doing laundry.

A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels
Six months ago, I gave birth to our first baby. Since then, my life had turned into a never-ending cycle of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, and washing. So much washing. Babies go through more clothes in a day than an entire football team.
On a good day, I washed at least eight pounds of tiny onesies, burp cloths, blankets, and bibs. On a bad day? Let’s just say I stopped counting.

A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels
So when the washing machine broke, I knew I was in trouble.
I had just pulled out a soaking pile of clothes when it sputtered, let out a sad grinding noise, and died. I pressed the buttons. Nothing. I unplugged it, plugged it back in. Nothing.
My heart sank.
When Billy got home from work, I wasted no time.

A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels
“The washing machine is dead,” I said as soon as he stepped through the door. “We need a new one.”
Billy barely looked up from his phone. “Huh?”
“I said the washing machine broke. We need to replace it. Soon.”
He nodded absently, kicked off his shoes, and scrolled through his screen. “Yeah. Not this month.”

A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels
I blinked. “What?”
“Not this month,” he repeated. “Maybe next month when I get my salary. Three weeks.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Billy, I can’t go three weeks without a washing machine. The baby’s clothes need to be cleaned properly every day.”

A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
Billy sighed like I was asking for something unreasonable. He put his phone down and stretched his arms over his head. “Look, I already promised to pay for my mom’s vacation this month. She really deserves it.”
I stared at him. “Your mom’s vacation?”
“Yeah. She’s been babysitting for us. I thought it’d be nice to do something for her.”
Babysitting?

A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
I swallowed hard. His mother came over once a month. She sat on the couch, watched TV, ate the dinner I cooked, and took a nap while the baby slept. That wasn’t babysitting. That was visiting.
Billy kept talking like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She said she needed a break, so I figured I’d cover her trip. It’s just for a few days.”

A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
I crossed my arms. “Billy, your mom doesn’t babysit. She comes over, eats, naps, and goes home.”
He frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time she changed a diaper?”
Billy opened his mouth, then shut it. “That’s not the point.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I think it is.”

A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, can’t you just wash everything by hand for now? People used to do that for centuries. Nobody died from it.”
I stared at him, feeling my blood boil. Wash everything by hand. Like I wasn’t already drowning in work, exhausted, aching, and running on three hours of sleep a night.

An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels
I took a slow, deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to yell, to scream, to make him understand how unfair this was. But I knew Billy. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.
I exhaled and looked at the pile of dirty clothes stacked by the door. Fine. If he wanted me to wash everything by hand, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
The first load wasn’t so bad.

A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels
I filled the bathtub with soapy water, dropped in the baby’s clothes, and started scrubbing. My arms ached, but I told myself it was temporary. Just a few weeks.
By the third load, my back was screaming. My fingers were raw. And I still had towels, bedsheets, and Billy’s work clothes waiting for me.

A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney
Every day was the same. Wake up, feed the baby, clean, cook, do laundry by hand, wring it out, hang it up. By the time I was done, my hands were swollen, my shoulders stiff, and my body exhausted.
Billy didn’t notice.

A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels
He came home, kicked off his shoes, ate the dinner I cooked, and stretched out on the couch. I could barely hold a spoon, but he never once asked if I needed help. Never looked at my hands, red and cracked from hours of scrubbing.
One night, after I’d finished washing another pile of clothes, I collapsed onto the couch next to him. I winced as I rubbed my aching fingers.
Billy glanced at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “What’s wrong with me?”
He shrugged. “You look tired.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”
He didn’t even flinch. Just turned back to the TV. That was the moment something snapped inside me.

An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels
Billy wasn’t going to understand—not unless he felt the inconvenience himself. If he wanted me to live like a 19th-century housewife, then fine. He could live like a caveman.
So I planned my revenge.
The next morning, I packed his lunch as usual. Except instead of the big, hearty meal he expected, I filled his lunchbox with stones. Right on top, I placed a folded note.

A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney
Then I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work.
And I waited.
At exactly 12:30 PM, Billy stormed through the front door, red-faced and furious.
“What the hell have you done?!” he shouted, slamming his lunchbox onto the counter.
I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on a towel. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
He flipped open the lid, revealing the pile of rocks. He grabbed the note and read it out loud.
“Men used to get food for their families themselves. Go hunt your meal, make fire with stones, and fry it.”
His face twisted in rage. “Are you out of your damn mind, Shirley? I had to open this in front of my coworkers!”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, so public humiliation is bad when it happens to you?”

A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
Billy clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Go on, Billy. Tell me how this is different.”
His jaw tightened. “Shirley, this is—this is just childish.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So your suffering is real, but mine is just me being childish?”

An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels
He threw his hands in the air. “You could have just talked to me!”
I stepped forward, fire burning in my chest. “Talked to you? I did, Billy. I told you I couldn’t go three weeks without a washing machine. I told you I was exhausted. And you shrugged and told me to do it by hand. Like I was some woman from the 1800s!”

A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels
His nostrils flared, but I could see the tiny flicker of guilt creeping in. He knew I was right.
I pointed at his lunchbox. “You thought I’d just take it, huh? That I’d wash and scrub and break my back while you sat on that couch every night without a care in the world?”
Billy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels
I shook my head. “I’m not a servant, Billy. And I’m sure as hell not your mother.”
Silence. Then, finally, he muttered, “I get it.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I do.”

A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Then I turned back to the sink. “Good,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Because I meant it, Billy. If you ever put your mother’s vacation over my basic needs again, you’d better learn how to start a fire with those rocks.”
Billy sulked for the rest of the evening.

An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
He barely touched his dinner. He didn’t turn on the TV. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him. Every now and then, he sighed loudly, like I was supposed to feel bad for him.
I didn’t.
For once, he was the one uncomfortable. He was the one who had to sit with the weight of his own choices. And I was perfectly fine letting him stew in it.

A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels
The next morning, something strange happened.
Billy’s alarm went off earlier than usual. Instead of hitting snooze five times, he actually got up. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.
I didn’t ask where he was going. I just waited.
That evening, when he came home, I heard it before I saw it—the unmistakable sound of a large box being dragged through the doorway.

A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I turned around and there it was. A brand-new washing machine.
Billy didn’t say anything. He just set it up, plugging in hoses, checking the settings. No complaints. No excuses. Just quiet determination.
When he finished, he finally looked up. His face was sheepish, his voice low.
“I get it now.”

A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… should’ve listened to you sooner.”
“Yeah,” I said, crossing my arms. “You should have.”
He swallowed, nodded again, then grabbed his phone and walked away without argument or justification. Just acceptance. And honestly? That was enough.

A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels
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.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Woman Sees the Face of the Santa She Hired and Realizes the Past She Feared Has Caught up with Her — Story of the Day

Lisa believed that a perfect Christmas was one spent with family. Lisa wished for her daughter to have the full, happy family she herself had never experienced. However, when the Santa she had hired revealed his face, she realized the importance of being careful what you wish for.
On Christmas Eve, the Marble family gathered in their cozy living room, the soft glow of twinkling lights from the Christmas tree casting warm patterns on the walls.
The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread filled the air.
Lisa moved gracefully between the kitchen and the table, her hands full of steaming dishes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She was the kind of hostess who made everything look effortless, her holiday apron dusted with a sprinkle of flour from the cookies she had baked earlier.
Meanwhile, Robert entertained their giggling daughter, Ashley, who clung to his shoulders like a tiny adventurer on a great expedition.
“Spread your arms like you’re an airplane, Ashley,” Robert instructed, his voice buzzing with enthusiasm as he mimicked the deep rumble of a plane engine.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Ashley squealed with delight, her arms stretched wide as she wobbled slightly.
“I’m flying, Daddy!” she yelled, her voice ringing like a tiny bell.
“Careful, Captain! We’re hitting turbulence,” Robert joked, swaying exaggeratedly from side to side.
Lisa paused by the table, wiping her hands on a towel, and watched them with a soft smile.
“Time to land, dinner is ready,” she called out, her voice warm and teasing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Robert made a dramatic engine noise as he lowered Ashley to the floor.
“Boeing 747 coming in for landing, woo-woo-woo!”
Ashley laughed even harder, tugging on Robert’s sleeve.
“More! I want more!”
“Later, sweetheart,” Robert promised, kneeling to her eye level. “First, we need fuel. Pilots have to eat too.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As they sat down to dinner, Lisa glanced at her family. The clinking of silverware and Ashley’s happy chatter filled the room.
Her heart swelled as she realized, for the hundredth time, how lucky she was to have these moments, this family, and this life.
After dinner, Lisa carried the last of the plates to the kitchen, glancing at Robert as he leaned back in his chair, sipping coffee.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Ashley was curled up on the carpet in front of the TV, her eyes glued to a cartoon with talking animals.
The cheerful jingle of the show filled the room, mixing with the faint hum of Christmas music from the radio.
Lisa caught Robert’s eye and gave him a small nod. He leaned forward slightly and whispered, “Is it time? Where is he?”
Lisa checked her watch and whispered back, “Maybe he’s running late. The weather’s not great, but he should be here any minute.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As if on cue, the doorbell rang, its cheerful chime making Ashley’s head snap toward the door.
Lisa wiped her hands on her apron and walked quickly to answer it. When she opened the door, a gust of cold air blew in, carrying with it a man dressed head to toe in a Santa costume.
“Ho-ho-ho!” he bellowed, stepping inside and brushing snow off his red coat. “Where’s the little girl for whom I’ve brought presents?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Santa! You came!” Ashley shouted, jumping up from the carpet and running to throw her arms around him.
Her giggles filled the room as Santa patted her back warmly.
He slung a large red bag off his shoulder, setting it beside the Christmas tree, and plopped down on the couch with a playful sigh.
“Let’s see what I’ve got for you in here! Did you write me a letter this year?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes!” Ashley said, her eyes sparkling. “Didn’t you read it?”
Santa chuckled, stroking his fake white beard.
“I did, but you know, there are so many children to bring presents to, and this old Santa sometimes forgets!”
Ashley tilted her head, her face serious. “I asked for a puppy!”
“A puppy?” Santa repeated, pretending to think deeply.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Hmm, let me check.” He rummaged through his bag dramatically, pulling out a wrapped box.
“Oh! Found it!”
Ashley ripped the paper open eagerly, revealing a shiny robotic dog. Her excitement faded. “I wanted a real one!”
Santa leaned in, lowering his voice.
“A real puppy is a big responsibility. But if you take good care of this one, maybe next year you’ll get a real one. Ho-ho-ho!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Ashley smiled reluctantly, her little hands already exploring the toy’s buttons.
Lisa and Robert exchanged a quiet look and slipped out of the room, leaving their daughter to enjoy her magical moment with Santa.
“I told you we should’ve gotten her a real dog,” Robert muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bedroom door.
His tone was laced with disappointment, and he glanced at Lisa with raised eyebrows.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lisa sighed, brushing her hair back and folding her arms.
“A dog is a big responsibility, Robert. Who’s going to walk it in the freezing cold? Who’s going to clean up after it? Train it? Feed it? Let me guess—me!” She gave him a pointed look, clearly irritated by the suggestion.
Robert didn’t back down.
“But it’s not just about the work, Lisa. A dog isn’t just a pet; it’s a family member. You don’t understand how much joy it could bring Ashley—and us! She’s been asking for one for months. Don’t you want to see her happy?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Lisa hesitated, frowning as she thought it over.
“Fine,” she said finally, throwing up her hands. “But don’t forget, if she gets bored of it, you’re taking care of it. Not me!”
“Deal!” Robert said with a triumphant grin, straightening up.
But their moment of debate was interrupted when Lisa froze, tilting her head. “It’s too quiet in there,” she whispered.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t hear them at all.”
Robert’s smile faded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, a trace of worry creeping into his voice. Without another word, they both hurried out of the room to check on Ashley.
Santa was no longer on the couch when Lisa and Robert rushed into the living room.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Their eyes darted around the space, but it was eerily empty. Panic gripped Lisa as she grabbed Robert’s arm.
“Where’s Ashley?” she gasped, her voice trembling.
Robert’s eyes widened, and they both sprinted toward the front door. There, they saw the man in the Santa suit standing by the doorway, holding Ashley in his arms.
The little girl was bundled up in her coat, her scarf neatly wrapped around her neck.
“Stop!” Lisa shouted, her voice sharp and full of fear.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Santa froze, turning to face them with wide eyes as Lisa and Robert dashed toward him.
Lisa grabbed Ashley, pulling her back protectively while Robert stepped in front of them.
“What were you planning to do?!” Robert growled, shoving the man against the wall. His voice was low and menacing. “Kidnap her?!”
“No! No! You’ve misunderstood,” the man stammered, raising his hands defensively. “I just wanted to play snowballs with her! That’s all, I swear!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“That wasn’t part of the plan!” Lisa snapped, her hands gripping Ashley’s shoulders tightly. “You were supposed to deliver the gifts and leave!”
Ashley squirmed in Lisa’s grip, her voice breaking through the tension. “Mom, stop! He’s my grandpa!”
Lisa froze, staring at her daughter. “What are you talking about, sweetie?” she asked, her voice softer now but still tinged with confusion.
The man in the Santa suit sighed heavily and reached up, removing his fake white beard.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Underneath was an older man’s face, worn with deep lines but softened by a sad smile.
“My name is Thomas Martins,” he said quietly. “I’m sure that name rings a bell…”
Lisa’s face went pale. She quickly gestured for Ashley to go to her room.
“Go on, honey,” she said, her voice firm but gentle.
Ashley hesitated, her brows furrowed, but eventually nodded and walked upstairs, glancing back before disappearing.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s he talking about, Lisa?” Robert asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Lisa turned to him, her expression filled with a mix of anger and pain.
“This can’t be,” she muttered, shaking her head. Then, turning to Thomas, she shouted, “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you in my house!”
Thomas held his hands up again, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t come to take your daughter, Lisa,” he said earnestly.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I just wanted to see her, to spend time with her. She’s my granddaughter, and I’ve never seen her in my entire life.”
Robert turned to Lisa, his confusion growing. “What’s he talking about, Lisa?”
Lisa’s shoulders slumped, and she closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “He’s telling the truth,” she said softly.
“He’s Ashley’s real grandfather.”
“What?!” Robert exclaimed, his voice rising.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What does this mean?!”
Lisa took a deep breath. “He’s my father,” she admitted. “The one who abandoned me when I was little…”
Robert’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Thomas. “It’s him?! Why did you come here?!”
Thomas’s shoulders sagged as he spoke.
“I just wanted to see my granddaughter, nothing more. I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did—I can’t forgive myself either—but I only wanted to be her grandfather for this one evening.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Robert clenched his fists, stepping closer.
“That’s enough,” he growled, beginning to push Thomas toward the door.
“Wait, Robert,” Lisa said, her voice stopping him. She stepped forward, her expression softening.
“It’s Christmas. This is a day when families should be together.”
She turned to Thomas, motioning for him to come closer. “Maybe I’m not ready to forgive you for not being in my life,” she said carefully.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“But I don’t want to deny my daughter the chance to know her grandfather. Please, don’t make me regret this decision.”
Tears filled Thomas’s eyes as he nodded.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out and hugged Lisa gently, his shoulders shaking as he wept.
For Thomas, this was more than he had dared to hope for.
And for Lisa, that Christmas brought something unexpected—a new chance to heal and grow as a family.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: It felt like Chelsea’s boyfriend had changed since they started dating. He used to be romantic and gentle and even wrote her letters. But now, he didn’t show up and left her alone at his friend’s birthday. However, after Chelsea found a letter in his friend’s coat, she realized the hard truth. Read the full story here.
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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