I hired Harold to play Santa for my adopted son Dylan’s Christmas surprise. Little did I know, their bond ran deeper. Dylan, now eight, had been adopted six months old with only a note naming him Martin.
For three years, Harold visited us, showering Dylan with attention. His devotion seemed extraordinary, but I uncovered the truth on Christmas Eve. In the restroom, I saw Harold’s crescent-shaped birthmark – identical to Dylan’s.
Keys to a Mercedes sparked more curiosity. How could a part-time Santa afford such luxury? The revelation came when Harold slipped up, addressing Dylan as “Martin.” My world spun.
“Who are you?” I demanded. Harold’s response stunned me: “I’m his father.” Abandoned by his mother, Harold had given Dylan up for adoption, ensuring a better life.
Years later, he orchestrated the Santa visits to connect with his son. I understood his motives, though furious. Our conversation led to Harold meeting Dylan as his biological father.
As they bonded, I saw a new side of Harold – kind, successful, and genuinely interested in me. Our feelings blossomed, and he proposed last week, still donning his Santa suit.
This Christmas, we marry, uniting our family. Love and family reunited in the unlikeliest way – through a hired Santa’s love and devotion.
