My Husband Left for a Business Trip Before Christmas, But What I Discovered on Christmas Eve Changed Everything
A few days before Christmas, my husband left for what he claimed was an “urgent” work trip. But I soon found out the truth—he had lied and was actually staying at a motel just around the corner. Overcome with a mix of anger and curiosity, I drove there, only to be blindsided when I stepped into the room. What I saw completely shattered my world and left me heartbroken.
I had always believed that my husband and I shared everything—our dreams, worries, even the silly jokes. We celebrated our victories together, supported each other through tough times, and understood one another’s quirks and flaws. But on Christmas Day, everything I thought I knew about our relationship crumbled, or so I thought.
Shawn remarked, “Andrea, I need to tell you something,” as he drummed nervously on our kitchen vanity. “My supervisor called. I have an urgent client situation in Boston that he requires me to handle.
I studied his features as I looked up from my coffee. His expression had changed in some way. An ebb and flow of… guilt? Fear?
“During Christmas?” I asked, my eyes going wild.
“Yes, I am aware. I made an effort to go, but…” After three years of marriage, I had come to appreciate the way he ran his hand over his dark hair. “The client’s threatening to pull their entire account.”
“You’ve never had to travel on Christmas before,” I remarked, holding my coffee mug tightly to keep warm. “Isn’t there anyone else who can handle it?”
“Believe me, I wish I could,” he replied, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before quickly shifting away. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you. When I get back, we’ll have our own Christmas.”
“Well, I guess duty calls.” Despite the disappointment that weighed heavily on my chest, I faked a grin. “When are you leaving?”
“Tonight. My apologies, honey.
I fought back tears as I nodded. We would be spending Christmas apart for the first time since we first met.
As I assisted Shawn with packing that night, I couldn’t help but think of our shared past.
I thought back to our wedding day, recalling how he used to surprise me with weekend trips and the look of love in his eyes as I walked down the aisle. I remembered the countless extra hours he worked at the consulting firm, all to save up for the Victorian house with the wraparound porch we had always dreamed of.
“Remember our first Christmas?” I folded his sweatshirt and asked. “When you nearly burned down our apartment trying to make a roast turkey?”
He chuckled. “How could I have forgotten? That call at three in the morning did not sit well with the fire department.
“And last Christmas, when you got us those matching ugly sweaters?”
“You still wore yours to work!”
“Because you dared me to!” I threw a sock at him, and he caught it with a grin. “The office still won’t stop talking about it.”
His smile softened. “I’m really sorry about this trip, babe.”
“I know!” I sank down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s just… Christmas won’t be the same without you here.”
He took my hand and sat next to me. “Promise you won’t open your presents until I’m back?”
“Cross my heart,” he said, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Promise you’ll call?”
“Every chance I get. I cherish you.”
“Love you too.”
Something nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him drive off. However, I ignored the thought. I mean, this was Shawn. Shawn, my Shawn. The man who danced with me in the rain and gave me soup while I was ill. And the guy I had the most amount of faith in.
A blanket of snow and an emptiness that I couldn’t get rid of came with Christmas Eve. The house was too still, too quiet. I had been by myself all day, baking cookies, wrapping last-minute presents, and watching Christmas movies.
Shawn called at about nine o’clock at night. My heart jumped.
He added, “Merry Christmas, beautiful,” in a strangely strained voice.
“Happy Christmas! How is Boston doing? Have you resolved the client’s issue?
“It’s good, I guess. Listen, I’m not really able to speak at this time. I must leave—”
I could hear laughter, muted voices, and what seemed like clinking dishes in the distance.
“Are you having dinner? This late? I assumed you had meetings.
He almost yelled, “I have to go!” “Emergency meeting!”
The line died.
With trembling palms, I gazed at my phone. An urgent meeting? On Christmas Eve, at nine o’clock? With the background sounds of a restaurant? It was all illogical.
Then my fitness tracker came back to me! After our supermarket expedition last Saturday, I had left it in his car. I accessed my phone’s app with shaking fingers.
The location pointer mocked my trust by blinking back at me. Boston was not where Shawn’s automobile was. Less than fifteen minutes from our home, it was parked at a hotel in the heart of our city.
A second passed and my world ceased to revolve. Then, in a whirlwind of ideas, everything came flooding back.
A lodging establishment? In our city? On the eve of Christmas?
Every possibility that sprang to mind was worse than the last. Was he going to meet someone? Was it all a deception, our marriage? The tense demeanor, the hasty departure, and the odd phone call had all been warning flags.
“No,” I said in a low voice. “No, no, no.”
I hurried to my car and made my way directly to the motel without hesitation.
A haze of tears and dreadful scenarios filled the trip. Every red light was excruciating. With each passing second, my mind was racing with possibilities I couldn’t bear to think about.
As I got there, I saw Shawn’s silver car sitting in the parking lot.
My stomach turned at the sight of it, the vehicle I had assisted him in choosing and with which we had driven on innumerable occasions.
I walked into the foyer with trembling hands and a heart that felt like it may explode. Like a terrible farce, Christmas music played gently in the background.
With a rehearsed smile, the receptionist looked up. “Can I help you?”
When I took out my phone, a picture of Shawn and I from our beach vacation last summer appeared. I ran my palm over his beaming face.
“My husband is this dude. What room does he occupy?
She paused. “Ma’am, I’m not supposed to—”
“I must know, please. His car is right outside, but he informed me he was in Boston. I must know what’s happening, please.
She must have been moved by something in my face. Perhaps it was the emotions I couldn’t contain, or perhaps she had witnessed this sight before. She looked at my phone once more as she entered something into her computer.
After saying, “Room 412,” she slid a keycard across the counter. “But, miss? Things aren’t always what they appear.
As I hurried to the elevator, I hardly heard her final remarks.
The elevator ride seemed to go on forever. Like a countdown to catastrophe, each floor dragged by. My footsteps were muffled by the carpet as I dashed down the corridor to the fourth floor.
- I simply swiped the keycard and rushed in without knocking.
“Shawn, how could you—”
My throat choked on the words.
Shawn was standing next to a wheelchair.
A man with silver-streaked hair and eyes I had not seen since I was five years old sat in that wheelchair. When he chuckled at my jokes, his eyes, which had once witnessed my first steps, crinkled at the corners, and on the day he left, they filled with tears.
“DADDY?” It was a prayer, a whisper, and a question I had been asking for twenty-six years.
“ANDREA!” shook my father’s voice. “My little girl.”
As I was struck by recollections of Mom burning all of his letters following the divorce and relocating us across the nation, time seemed to stop. I was weeping myself to sleep while holding the final birthday card he had sent, which had a cartoon puppy with the words, “I’ll love you forever.”
“How?” With tears running down my cheeks, I looked to Shawn. “How did you…?”
The words “I’ve been searching for him for a year,” were spoken quietly by Shawn. “Your mother told me some information about him a few months prior to her death. Through contacts on social media, I discovered him in Arizona last week. A few years ago, he suffered a stroke that left him unable to walk. I wanted to give you a Christmas surprise, so I traveled down to fetch him yesterday.
My dad grabbed me by the hand. Even though his fingers were thinner than I had remembered, they still had the same soft strength.
“Andrea, I never gave up searching for you. It’s impossible because of your mother. relocated a lot and changed your addresses. But my love for you has never wavered. never gave up looking for my little girl.
As he drew me into his arms, I collapsed to my knees next to his wheelchair and started crying. The sandalwood aroma of his perfume, which I had known since I was a youngster, enveloped me like a cozy blanket.
Every birthday candle I’ve blown out, every Christmas wish I’ve ever made, and every 11:11 I’ve hoped on had all been for this moment.
“I thought…” Between sobbing, I choked out. “When I saw the hotel… I thought…”
Shawn knelt next to us and said, “Oh, sweetheart,” “I really wanted to tell you. But first I had to make sure I could locate him. If it didn’t work out, I couldn’t take the idea of failing you.”
I muttered to Shawn, “I’m so sorry,” after we had ordered room service and everything had calmed down a bit.
On the tiny couch, he drew me in. “I desired perfection. The expression on your face when your father walks—well, rolls in—for Christmas brunch tomorrow morning.”
“It is perfect!” Between the two men I loved the most in the world, I glanced. “Although I might have spoiled the surprise. However, getting here may have caused me to have a heart attack.
From his wheelchair, my dad laughed. “You were impatient all the time. Do you recall shaking every Christmas gift you received?
“Some things never change,” Shawn noted as he squeezed my hand.
“Remember the time I tried to convince you there was a fairy living in the garden?” Dad’s eyes were sparkling. “You left out tiny sandwiches for a week.”
“I’d forgotten about that!” Through new tears, I chuckled.
The words “I have 26 years of stories saved up,” were spoken quietly by Dad. “If you want to hear them.”
“I want to hear everything.” I grabbed his hand. “Every single story.”
I put my head on Shawn’s shoulder and listened to my father recite memories of my early years that I had assumed would never be heard again. On Christmas Day, as the snow began to gently fall outdoors, church bells could be heard in the distance.
My dad’s eyes glowed. “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 laughed, “is how Andrea jumped to conclusions and thought her loving husband was up to no good on Christmas Eve!”
Despite my moan, I couldn’t stop giggling. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
Together, they responded, “Never,” and their laughter was the greatest Christmas present I could have ever had.
