**A Letter to Father Christmas and a Gift of Fate**
I stepped into the lift without a thought that an ordinary ride would turn into an encounter that would change my winter. In the corner stood a young woman in a grey coat, holding the hand of a five-year-old girl. The child fixed me with her big blue eyes, then suddenly beamed at me.
“Are you going to work?” she asked, without hesitation.
“Emily, we say ‘you’ to strangers,” her mother gently corrected, offering me an apologetic smile.
I smiled back and nodded.
“Yes, off to the office.”
“Have you written your letter to Father Christmas yet?”
I laughed. I’d never believed in those fairy tales, even as a boy, but I didn’t tell her that. She proudly held out a crumpled piece of card. Absentmindedly, I slipped it into my pocket, said goodbye, and stepped out into the cold.
All day, I tried to forget that meeting—buried myself in work, pushed away memories of my ex-fiancée who’d called off the wedding at the last minute. I’d moved to a new city to start over, yet even in the quiet of my flat, the ache wouldn’t fade.
That evening, walking through snow-dusted streets, I remembered the card. Pulling it from my coat, I read the messy child’s handwriting: *”Be happy always and never sad!”* Something warm stirred inside me. I propped it on the shelf where I’d see it every day.
A few days before Christmas, I rang my landlady to ask where that little girl lived. Mrs. Wilson happily explained—turns out, the mother and daughter lived just one floor above. The mother’s name was Katherine.
That night, I knocked on their door. Katherine froze in surprise when she saw me.
“Sorry,” I began, a bit awkwardly, “I’ve come to see Emily. The thing is, Father Christmas made a stop at our office. He asked me to find a girl named Emily and deliver her letter personally.”
The girl immediately darted out from behind her mother.
“I *knew* he’d send you! Wait, I’ll get it!”
A minute later, she returned with a large envelope decorated with snowflakes and hearts. On it was written: *”To Father Christmas—HAND DELIVER!”*
“Don’t show Mummy! Or the wish won’t come true!”
“I promise it’ll reach him,” I said, smiling.
At home, I couldn’t resist opening it. *”Dear Father Christmas, My name is Emily. I’ve been very good. Please bring me a big soft teddy. And… a new daddy. Because I don’t have anyone at all.”*
On New Year’s Eve, I found myself at their door again. Katherine opened it and stared—there I stood, holding an enormous pink teddy bear.
“Father Christmas asked me to give this to a very good girl named Emily,” I said.
Emily squealed with joy, hugging her mum, then me.
Katherine invited me to stay for the celebration. At the table, Emily suddenly asked,
“What about my second wish?”
“That one’s… trickier,” I admitted.
“What else did you ask for?” Katherine asked carefully.
“I asked Father Christmas for a new daddy. But if he’s short on daddies right now, maybe you could stay?”
Emily yawned and drifted off, cuddling her bear.
The two of us sat there, hunched over our plates, blushing and smiling silently. Outside, snow fell like a soft blanket, and for the first time in years, the flat felt truly warm.
