Panic surged through me. I quickly put on my coat and grabbed my keys. Without a second thought, I drove to the nearest hotel in the city.
When I arrived, I scanned the parking lot and, to my horror, saw his car. My mind was racing with a thousand terrible possibilities.
I rushed into the lobby, my heart pounding in my chest. The receptionist looked at me, startled by my frantic appearance.
At first, she was hesitant to give me any information. But I pleaded with her, explaining the strange situation, and finally, she relented and told me which room he was in.
My legs felt like jelly as I made my way to the room. I stood outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath, bracing myself for whatever awaited me on the other side. Then, I slowly opened the door.
I was met with a sight that left me completely stunned.
There, sitting in a wheelchair, was my father. I hadn’t seen him in years. He had disappeared from my life under mysterious circumstances, and I had long given up hope of ever seeing him again.
Tom had been searching for him for a year. He had kept this secret, going to great lengths to track him down. He brought my father here to surprise me on Christmas Eve.
I was overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. Happiness flooded my heart at seeing my father again, but there was also a tinge of sadness for all the lost years.
We ordered room service, and as we sat together, we talked about old times, laughing and crying. It was a truly special moment.
I realized then how quickly I had jumped to conclusions, assuming the worst. This Christmas, instead of being a lonely and disappointing one, had turned out to be the best gift I could have ever received.
