Kira giggled as the ornament dangled crookedly on the lower part of the tree.

She darted back to the box, grabbing handfuls of shiny ornaments and thrusting them toward Lora.

“Hurry, Mommy! We have to make it beautiful for Santa!”

Lora felt her heartache at Kira’s innocent excitement. She smiled and knelt by her daughter, helping her sort through the decorations.

“It’s already beautiful, sweetie. But you’re right. Santa deserves our best effort.”

Kira twirled around, humming Christmas carols and bossing her mother around like a tiny foreman.

“Mommy, put the red one there! No, higher! And the shiny one next to it!”

Finally, Kira pulled out the glittery gold star from the bottom of the box. She held it up triumphantly.

“Now, Mommy, the star! Put it on top!”

Lora took the star and climbed a step stool to place it on the highest branch. When she stepped down, she turned to Kira.

“What do you think? Is it perfect?”

Kira stepped back, her hands on her hips as she studied the tree.

Her eyes sparkled as she declared, “It’s almost perfect! But Santa will make it better when he comes!”

Lora froze, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The warmth she felt moments ago was replaced by a sharp pang of sadness.

“Sweetheart, about Santa…” she began hesitantly.

“I can’t wait to see him!” Kira interrupted, her excitement bubbling over.

“He always eats the cookies I make, and I always catch him by the stairs! He’ll come, right, Mommy?”

Lora bit her lip, her smile faltering. She knelt down and brushed a stray curl from Kira’s forehead.

“We’ll see, honey,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

“Now, let’s add the candy canes.”

How could she explain that John — her husband, Kira’s Santa — wouldn’t be coming this year?

Lora sighed and stood, forcing a smile as she joined Kira by the tree. For now, she decided, she would hold onto this moment of happiness, even if it was bittersweet.

Christmas Eve arrived with a quiet magic filling the house. The string lights cast a soft, golden glow across the living room, reflecting off the ornaments on the Christmas tree.

The air was sweet with the scent of freshly baked cookies, which Kira carefully arranged on a festive plate.

She set it on the hearth, next to a glass of milk, her face glowing with anticipation.

“Now we wait,” Kira whispered, her excitement bubbling over as she grabbed her favorite blanket and snuck behind the staircase. It was her favorite spot for spying on Santa.

Lora stood back, watching her daughter with a mixture of love and guilt. Kira’s absolute belief that Santa would come made the lump in Lora’s throat harder to swallow.

How could she break her daughter’s heart by telling her the truth? She smoothed her hands on her sweater and walked over, kneeling next to Kira.

“Kira, sweetheart,” Lora began softly, her voice careful. “Maybe Santa will come later. Why don’t you go to bed and let him surprise you in the morning?”

“No, Mommy!” Kira protested, her little face scrunching with determination. “I always see him when he comes. He has to come.”

Lora felt her resolve falter, tears stinging her eyes. There was no avoiding it now. She gently took Kira’s hand in hers, her own trembling slightly.

“Kira,” she began again, her voice heavy with emotion, “there’s something I need to tell you about Santa and Daddy…”

But before the words could leave her mouth, the faint sound of footsteps filled the room. Lora froze, her breath hitching.

There, a figure in a red suit knelt down, reaching for a cookie.