A 17-year-old girl named Rosalie was heartbroken when her stepmother, Susan, secretly canceled her flight so she couldn’t spend Christmas with her father. Still, fate had different plans. A series of ironic events left Susan stranded, embarrassed, and revealed her manipulative actions, making her Christmas far from ideal.

Last Christmas was meant to be perfect. But life isn’t always smooth, especially with a stepmother who doesn’t care about you.

I’m Rosalie, 17, and let me tell you about how terrible my Christmas was. Two years ago, after my parents’ divorce, my father married Susan. And honestly, we didn’t get along well from the start.

Since she entered my life, Susan made it clear I wasn’t part of her idea of a happy family.

“Rosalie is too similar to her mother, Rob. What did you expect? That we’d get along perfectly and be the new mom-daughter team? That girl is stubborn through and through.”

She was right about that.

Because of her attitude, I moved to a small apartment about twelve hours away from my dad. At first, he didn’t want me to leave, but Susan had her way. She also wanted me gone.

I didn’t complain. I was closer to my mom, my school was better, and I was living in a building owned by my dad’s aunt, who checked in often with food and treats.

My rent was paid, and with my allowance and part-time job at a spa, I was managing well.

When my dad invited me to spend Christmas with them, I was hopeful. Mom was away on a retreat, and I didn’t want to stay alone.

I booked my flight early because driving twelve hours made me feel sick. I packed my gifts, wrapped and ready, including an extra bottle of my dad’s favorite whiskey.

Aunt Maureen asked, “Rosalie, why are you buying whiskey for Dad?”

I answered, “It’s for Christmas, not for me! I’m underage and can’t buy it myself.”

She agreed to buy it, wrapping it carefully.

She came to my apartment, handed me the bottle, and warned me to keep it sealed until I got home.

She left brownies and headed out.

As Christmas approached, I felt it took forever. Then Susan showed up unexpectedly at my place, claiming she was away on business and needed to stay over.

“Rosalie,” she said, carrying her bags inside. “I need a place to stay for a few days. I’m working. You just keep studying or whatever. Make sure the coffee is always ready. I’ll handle the rest.”

Living in a tiny one-bedroom, her staying was awkward. But I didn’t know what else to do.

At first, she was oddly polite, complimenting my decorations—which surprised me since she usually mocked anything I did.

But on the second night, she offered to cook dinner.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said. “And I’ll do dinner—grilled fish and garlic bread!”

I thought maybe she was trying to make peace. But I was wrong.

On Christmas Eve, I woke up excited. My flight was in the afternoon, so I packed last-minute, put on my favorite sweater, and waited for Aunt Maureen.

“Will I see you at home?” I asked Susan as I put on my boots.

“Yeah,” she replied, distracted by her laptop. “My flight’s tonight. I’ll lock up and give you the keys.”

Then everything changed.

When I arrived at the airport, the airline clerk looked at her screen and frowned.

“I’m sorry, Miss Sutton, but your flight was canceled.”

I was stunned.

“What? Canceled? By whom? The airline?”

She looked at her screen again, confused.

“No, ma’am. All flights are going ahead, but it was canceled online two days ago.”

My stomach sank.

What was going on?

I hadn’t checked in, hadn’t touched my ticket. I called the airline’s customer service. They confirmed the cancellation was made from my account. It was obvious who had accessed my laptop two days earlier.

I was crushed.

While I sat overwhelmed, my phone buzzed.

The message read: “Enjoy your Christmas! Ours will be perfect because you’re not there! Maureen will have your keys.”

That message hit hard. Susan had sabotaged me. Her pretend kindness was just a cover-up.

I tried calling Dad, but his voicemail was the only answer.

Hours later, at around 9 p.m., my phone blinked again. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

“Your little plan worked. I’m stranded at the bakery. It’s freezing. Come pick me up now. NOW, ROSALIE!”

I stared at the message, almost hearing Susan’s yelling voice.

What plan? I hadn’t done anything.

I decided to ignore her and go home.

The next morning, as I remembered Susan’s strange behavior, I found it hilarious.

Here’s what actually happened:

After I left for the airport, Susan went to a bakery to pick up Christmas pies. But because she’s Susan, she parked illegally in a tow-away zone.

Why me?

Because my dad bought similar phone numbers for us, differing by one digit. I was the only one Susan had memorized.

She thought I had sabotaged her, so she called the towing company after realizing my flight was canceled.

Meanwhile, Dad tried to contact Susan all night, then finally called me. His voice was tense.

“Shouldn’t you be here already, Rose? And where is Susan?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” I said, nearly laughing. “She’s probably still at the bakery or stuck in the tow yard.”

I explained everything about the canceled flight, Susan’s messages, and her current situation.

Dad was stunned. “She canceled your flight?”

“Yeah,” I said. “She did it herself. Now she’s paying the price for being mean.”

He went quiet, then sighed.

“Rosalie, there’s something I need to tell you,” he said. “A few weeks ago, Susan said she didn’t think you should come for Christmas.”

I froze.

“What?”

He continued, “She said it would be easier for everyone if it was just ‘us.’ I thought she would change her mind when she went on her trip. But I guess she really meant it.”

“You knew she didn’t want me there?” I asked.

“I thought I could fix it,” he said softly. “I wanted this Christmas to be special. Since Mom is away, I tried to make it good for you. I didn’t think she’d go this far. I ignored it after I spoke with her.”

He sighed again.

“You thought ignoring it would help?”

His silence answered for him.

“I’m catching the next flight,” he said plainly.

When Susan finally arrived home hours later, she looked exhausted, like she’d been dragged through everything.

She washed off the day’s mess in the bathroom before sleeping on the couch. When she woke, my dad was there, fresh off his flight.

“You canceled her flight?” he demanded before saying anything else.

Susan turned pale.

“I… Rob, I wanted us to have some family time without…”

“Without my daughter?” he snapped. “You didn’t just ruin her Christmas; you tried to ruin us. How could you do that to a teenager? Rosalie is just a girl who’s had to grow up too fast because of you!”

Susan stammered, trying to defend herself, but it was too late.

My dad told her, “Pack your things. Spend Christmas wherever you want. But it won’t be here. I’ll spend mine with my daughter.”

She left quietly, ashamed.

The next day, he booked our flights back home, ensuring Susan wouldn’t be there when we arrived. We spent the holiday enjoying hot cocoa, pie, and laughing at the crazy events.

Meanwhile, Susan spent her Christmas alone in a hotel, nursing her bruised ego and paying a hefty towing bill.

Sometimes karma acts fast.

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