I ignored the little box under our Christmas tree for years. My husband said it was just a memory from his first love, but memories don’t haunt you like that. Last Christmas, something inside me snapped. I opened the gift and found a secret that changed everything.
I met Tyler when I was 32 and he was 35. It sounds cliché, but it felt like fate. Our connection was fast and electric, like when you step outside just as the first snowfall starts. Everything was magic, glittering, and impossibly perfect.
A couple walking in the snow | Source: Midjourney
He made me laugh with his dry humor, and I admired his quiet confidence. He was never brash and never postured. Tyler was just steady and certain, a safe harbor in a storm.
At least, that’s what I thought. I later realized his calm demeanor wasn’t confidence; it was cowardice.
Our first Christmas together was everything I’d dreamed of. Candles flickered, soft music played, and snow dusted the windows. We took turns unwrapping gifts, leaving ribbons and bows scattered across the floor. Then I saw it.
A woman sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney
One gift remained under the Christmas tree: a small, neatly wrapped box with a slightly flattened bow.
“Oh?” I said, tilting my head toward it. “Is that also for me?”
Tyler glanced up from the sweater I’d just given him and shook his head. “Nah, that’s… that’s something from my first love. She gave it to me before we broke up.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Each year, I place it under the tree, though I’ve never opened it.”
A man sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. “What?”
He didn’t even look up. Just folded the sweater over his lap. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a memory of someone who once meant a lot to me.”
I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. “Why didn’t you open it?”
“We broke up soon afterward, and I didn’t feel like opening it,” he said, and that was that.
The moment passed, or at least he thought it did.
A happy man sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney
But I remember sitting there, my smile feeling too tight on my face. A little red flag waved somewhere in the distance of my mind, but I told myself it was fine. People hold on to weird things. Old love letters. Ticket stubs. Nobody’s perfect, right?
The years rolled on, and we built a life together. Tyler and I got married and bought a little starter home. We had two kids together who filled the rooms with shrieks of joy and toddler tears.
We were happy. Or busy, which sometimes feels the same. Christmases came and went like clockwork.
A Christmas tree in a living room | Source: Pexels
I’d put up the tree while Tyler wrangled the lights. The kids would argue over which ornaments went where, and every year, without fail, that little box appeared under the tree.
I asked him about it again around year seven of our marriage.
“Why do you still have that old gift?” I’d said, dusting pine needles off the floor. “You’ve had it longer than you’ve had me.”
He looked up from untangling the lights, brow furrowed like I’d just asked him to solve world peace.
A man untangling Christmas lights in his living room | Source: Midjourney
“It’s just a box, Nicole. It’s not hurting anyone. Leave it be.”
I could’ve argued. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Back then, I still believed that peace was more important than answers. I still believed in us.
Time slipped through our fingers. Christmases came and went. The kids grew up and left for college. They called less and less and skipped spending holidays with the folks more often.
The house was quieter than I expected. It’s funny how you never realize how much noise you’ll miss.
A mature woman decorating a Christmas tree alone | Source: Midjourney
But that box? It never missed a year.
Every December, I’d watch it appear like a ghost. Tyler would place it in a spot where it was out of the way, but still clearly visible. It still had the same stupid paper, as smooth as the day his first love wrapped it.
I didn’t say anything anymore. I’d just see it, feel my chest tighten, and keep moving. But something had shifted.
A mature woman standing near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
The box wasn’t just a box anymore. It was everything we never said to each other. It was his silence on the nights I lay awake, wondering if he’d ever loved me as much as her.
One night, after putting away dinner leftovers, I stood in the kitchen, hands on my hips, staring at the ceiling like it owed me an answer.
Tyler still hadn’t washed the dishes like he’d said he would, and hadn’t taken the trash out either. Instead, he was upstairs, tapping away on his laptop while I held everything together, like always.
A solemn-looking woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I’d committed years of my life to this man and our family, and I was tired of always having to fight with him and remind him about chores. I looked around our kitchen and my heart ached for something I couldn’t name.
I sighed, dried my hands on a dishrag, and made my way to the living room.
The Christmas tree lights twinkled softly, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. It should’ve been peaceful. But then I saw that darn box.
Gifts under a Christmas tree | Source: Pexels
It was sitting there, smug, untouched. Still unopened after all these years.
Something deep and sharp unfurled in my chest. I could’ve walked away. I should’ve, but I’d walked away too many times already.
I grabbed it off the floor, and before I could think, I tore it open. Paper shredded in my hands and that stupid, flattened bow fell to the floor. My breath came short and fast as I tore open the thin cardboard and revealed the gift from Tyler’s first love.
A woman opening a Christmas gift | Source: Pexels
Inside was a letter, neatly folded, aged to a soft yellow. I froze.
This was the thing he’d guarded for thirty years. My heart drummed in my ears as I unfolded the page, fingers trembling.
My stomach dropped as I read the first sentence. I stumbled backward and sat down hard on the sofa as my knees went weak.
A woman sitting on a sofa while reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Tyler, I’m pregnant. I know this is a shock, but I didn’t know where else to turn. My parents found out and they’re forcing me to stay away from you, but if you meet me at the bus station on the 22nd, we can run away together. I’ll be wearing a green coat.
Please, meet me there, Tyler. I’m so sorry I lied that day I broke up with you. My father was watching from the car. I never stopped loving you.”
I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from making a sound.
A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
She’d been there. She’d waited for him. And he never showed. But worse than that — he’d never even opened the letter. He had no idea…
I heard Tyler’s footsteps coming down the stairs. I didn’t even try to hide what I’d done.
When he saw me holding the letter, his face went pale.
“What did you do?!” His voice was sharp, slicing through the air like glass. “That was my most precious memory!”
I rose and turned to him slowly, feeling something inside me crack wide open.
A shocked man standing in a living room decorated for Christmas | Source: Midjourney
“Memory?” I held up the letter like a battle flag. “You mean this? This letter you never even opened? You’re telling me you clung to this ‘memory’ for thirty years and didn’t even have the courage to see what it was?”
He blinked, stepping back like I’d hit him.
“I didn’t…” He stopped and swiped a hand down his face. “I was scared, okay?”
“Coward,” I hissed, thrusting the letter at him like it was a sword.
A furious woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
His eyes widened. We stood there like that for what felt like forever, but then he took the page in his hands, and read the letter.
My eyes didn’t even sting with tears as I watched him gasp with shock and sit down on the arm of the sofa. I was too tired for that now.
Emotions flickered across his face, and at one point, he let out a low moan. He seemed to reread her words at least three times before he dropped his head into his hands.
A man sitting with his head in his hands | Source: Midjourney
“She… she was waiting, and I didn’t show up.” His shoulders shook and his voice was thick with emotion.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. He cried like a man mourning his own grave. But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I’d been waiting too.
“Tyler,” I said, my voice calm like a still lake after a storm. “I’m tired. Tired of being second to a ghost.” I felt my heart settle into something steady. “We’re done.”
He didn’t chase me as I left the room.
An angry woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
The divorce was quiet. Neither of us had the energy to make it messy. We split the house, the cars, and the rest of our lives.
He tracked her down. I found out from our youngest. She was happily married and their son wasn’t interested in meeting Tyler or his half-siblings. He’d missed his chance. Twice.
And me? I got my own place. On Christmas Eve, I sat by the window, watching the soft glow of lights from the neighboring apartments.
A content woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney
There was no tree this year, no boxes, and no ghosts. Just peace.
Here’s another story: When Madison’s husband, Larry, surprises her with a handmade advent calendar, she’s touched — until day one reveals a “gift” that’s really a chore. Each day, it gets worse, but by day 15, Madison’s patience snaps, and she hatches a plan to teach him a lesson.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Meet the 8-Year-Old Who Created a Breathtaking Jesus Painting—Prepare to Be Amazed
Akiane Kramarik painted a beautiful picture of Jesus called “Prince of Peace” when she was just 8 years old. This amazing artwork was forgotten for 16 years after it was stolen, sold by mistake, and kept away in darkness. Now, it has been brought back to the light for everyone to see.
Now 28 years old, Akiane Kramarik is a best-selling author, entrepreneur, and philanthropist. She is known for her beautiful spiritual paintings, which feature her amazing brushstrokes. When she painted “Prince of Peace,” she felt a strong urge, inspired by a recurring vision, to create an image of Jesus as a “profound role model for humanity.”
At just nine years old, Akiane appeared on the Oprah Show and showcased her art, which was much bigger than her small frame. Among her paintings was the famous portrait of Jesus, “Prince of Peace,” created with her special techniques.
“You’re obviously gifted. Where does this come from?” Oprah asked her.
“It comes from God,” Akiane confidently answered.
In another interview, when Akiane was just 10, she was asked how she knew it was God speaking to her. She replied, “Because I can hear His voice. His voice is quiet and beautiful.”
Interestingly, Akiane’s family is not religious, and they never talked about God in their small-town Idaho home.
“It wasn’t just art that was happening. Along with the art, there was a spiritual awakening,” said Akiane’s mother, Forelli Kramarik, who grew up in an atheistic family in Lithuania. “It all began when Akiane started sharing her dreams and visions. My husband, who was a former Catholic, did not share the same beliefs. We didn’t pray together, didn’t talk about God, and never went to church. Then suddenly, Akiane started talking about God.”
Akiane was homeschooled and didn’t have babysitters or a television, so she wasn’t influenced by anyone outside the home, her mother explained. “We were always with the kids, so we knew these words from Akiane about God didn’t come from outside influences. But suddenly, there were deep conversations about God’s love and His place in our lives, and she described everything in great detail.”
Akiane said her portrait of Jesus was inspired by a vision she had since she was a preschooler. She explained that she would illustrate her visions through poetry and writing, but it became too “complex to describe through words, so I painted.”
She added, “I always think about Jesus and talk about Him. I was searching for a model of Jesus for a long time. When I couldn’t find anyone, I suggested to my family that we pray all day for God to send the right one.”
The family prayed, and then a very tall carpenter—like Jesus, who was also a carpenter—showed up at their door looking for work. Akiane remembered almost fainting when she saw him. “I told my mother that was him. I want him to be my model,” she said.
Inspired by the image in her dreams and using the carpenter as her model, Akiane painted “Prince of Peace,” a painting that is now priceless and recognized all over the world.
“Prince of Peace” showcased Akiane’s vivid and detailed techniques, which were impressive for such a young artist. The painting was sent to an exhibition but was stolen during the journey. A few years later, it was finally returned to Akiane, but when it came back, it was covered in sawdust, which she carefully cleaned off.
The family tried to share Akiane’s spiritually inspired portrait with the world again, but a clerical mistake put the painting up for sale instead of for exhibition. “Prince of Peace” was sold to a private collector, and after a long court battle to get it back, which ended with the painting stored under a dark stairwell, Akiane decided to focus on creating new masterpieces, which received praise worldwide.
Not willing to lose hope, Akiane, whose talents helped lift her family from poverty, believed she would see her “Prince of Peace” again. In the meantime, she traveled to over 30 countries, helping different groups of people with her art and sharing her message of peace and spirituality. She also kept the memory of “Prince of Peace” alive by selling more than 100,000 prints.
In 2019, something incredible happened.
The “Prince of Peace” painting was put up for sale and purchased for $850,000 by an anonymous family. It’s said this family is “one of the world’s most distinguished and esteemed families.”
The new owners see themselves as the protectors of the original painting. They believe it is their mission to safeguard it for future generations, allowing its story to inspire and touch millions of people.
After almost 20 years, Akiane unwrapped her precious “Prince of Peace.” With tears in her eyes, she dropped to her knees. In a recent CBS interview, she said, “It was amazing to me. To be able to see this in the light again, after so many years.”
She added, “It’s still surreal to me. I’m not gonna lie… Love is so powerful. It will always show up on time for people who need it most.”
“Akiane: The Early Years,” showcasing the famous “Prince of Peace” painting, is now on display at the Belóved Gallery in Marble Falls, TX.
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