Tom had spent his whole life putting work first. Meetings, deadlines, long nights at the office—those things had always mattered more than anything else. Somewhere along the way, without really noticing, he had lost his family.
Now, almost 70 years old, Tom was facing something far scarier than any work problem. His health was getting worse, and the one person he wanted to hear from most—his daughter—would barely speak to him anymore.
That night, Tom sat alone in his quiet office. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. The only sound was the low hum of the heater and the ticking clock on the wall. Papers were stacked neatly on his desk, perfectly organized, just the way he liked them.
In the corner of the room stood a small Christmas tree, decorated with soft lights and simple ornaments. It glowed warmly, but instead of feeling festive, it made the room feel even lonelier.
Tom leaned back in his chair and sighed. His friends had retired years ago. They talked about grandchildren, trips, and slow mornings. Tom didn’t have those things. Work had become his anchor, the only thing that made him feel useful.
After staring at the tree for a long moment, he picked up his phone and dialed his daughter’s number. His heart beat faster as it rang.
“Hello?” Daisy answered.
“Hi, Daisy. It’s Dad,” Tom said, trying to sound calm, even though his voice shook slightly.
“Hi, Dad,” she replied, distracted, like she was doing something else at the same time.
Tom swallowed. “I was just wondering… what does Theo want for Christmas this year?”
There was a brief pause. “He wants a Furby,” Daisy said.
“A Furby?” Tom asked, frowning. “What’s that?”
“It’s a toy,” Daisy explained. “It talks and moves. All the kids at school have one.”
“Oh,” Tom said slowly. Then he asked, carefully choosing his words, “Would it be okay if I just gave him money instead?”
Another pause. “Uh… yeah, I guess,” Daisy replied, disappointment clear in her voice. A second later, the call ended.
Tom stared at the phone for a long time.
After working a bit more, he packed up his things. His desk, once crowded with files and coffee cups, looked empty and lifeless. Locking the office door behind him, he stepped into the cold night air and drove home, the radio playing softly but doing nothing to quiet his thoughts.
When he walked into his house, silence wrapped around him. He hung his coat by the door and looked around the dim living room. Same couch. Same TV. Same quiet.
He had lived alone for years now, ever since his wife had left and taken Daisy with her. Back then, he had told himself work needed him. That providing was enough.
He changed into his old sweatpants and sank onto the couch, turning on the TV without really watching it. His eyes drifted to the shelf nearby.
There was a photo of Theo, smiling wide and happy.
Tom’s chest tightened. “I’ve missed so much,” he whispered to himself.
The next morning, Tom drove to the clinic. Sitting in the doctor’s office, he already knew what was coming. He had heard it all before.
Dr. Harris entered with a clipboard. “Well, Tom, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m fine,” Tom muttered, avoiding his eyes.
Dr. Harris scanned the papers. “Your results are mostly okay, but your cholesterol is still too high. Are you eating better like we discussed?”
“No. I ignore it,” Tom said bluntly.
Dr. Harris sighed. “Tom, you can’t ignore this. You have a heart condition. You need to slow down.”
“I drink water,” Tom said, lifting a bottle. “My daughter sent it. Says it’s fancy.”
“That’s good,” Dr. Harris replied, “but it’s not enough. Have you told your family about your condition?”
“No,” Tom said coldly.
“Tom, your family needs to know.”
“I wasn’t a good father,” Tom admitted quietly. “I don’t want to drag her into my mess.”
“Are you afraid she won’t help?” the doctor asked gently.
“No,” Tom said. “I’m afraid she’ll help too much.”
Dr. Harris stood. “You need to tell her, Tom. Or I will.”
Tom forced a weak smile. “You’re supposed to make my life easier, Doc.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” Dr. Harris said, patting his shoulder.
That evening, Tom sat in his armchair, phone heavy in his hand. He stared at Daisy’s name on the screen.
“What if she hangs up?” he thought. “What if she doesn’t care?”
Finally, he pressed call.
“Dad?” Daisy answered, concern creeping into her voice.
“We need to talk,” Tom said.
“What’s wrong?”
Tom told her everything. The condition. The risks. The fear. When he finished, there was silence.
“I’m coming tomorrow,” Daisy finally said. “I’ll handle this.”
“You don’t have to—” Tom started.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad,” she said firmly.
The next day, Daisy arrived ready for battle. She called his doctor, asked question after question, then cleaned out his fridge like a storm.
Later, she sat him down. “Andrew and I talked. We want you to come live with us. You’ll have your own space. We’ve already found a doctor.”
“Thank you,” Tom said softly. “But I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to work.”
Daisy’s voice rose. “Dad, you’re almost 70!”
“Work is all I have,” Tom said quietly. “I don’t know who I am without it.”
“And what about me?” Daisy cried. “What about Theo? You missed my whole life. Theo doesn’t even know you!”
“I…” Tom’s voice broke.
“I’m done,” Daisy said, tears in her eyes, before storming out.
For two weeks, Tom called every day. No answer. Just voicemail.
Then, the day before Christmas, his phone rang.
“This is Riverside Health Clinic,” a voice said. “Your daughter has been in an accident.”
Tom froze. Panic swallowed him whole.
At the hospital, he learned the truth—it had been a mistake.
Relief crashed over him, followed by shame.
“This can’t happen again,” he realized.
Two hours later, Tom stood on Daisy’s porch wearing a Santa suit, holding a Furby.
The door opened.
“Dad?” Daisy gasped.
“Merry Christmas,” Tom said. “I want to be better.”
She smiled through tears. “Come in.”
“Theo!” she called. “Look who’s here!”
“Santa!” Theo shouted, running straight into Tom’s arms.
Tom held him tightly, tears streaming down his face, knowing that for the first time in his life, he had finally chosen what truly mattered.