Emily had never felt more foolish in her life. The restaurant was warm, glowing with Christmas garlands and golden lights, yet she sat alone with a sinking heart. Her blind date, set up by her best friend, was already 30 minutes late. Every time the door opened, she lifted her head with hope, only to sink further when it wasn’t him.
She finally texted her friend. He’s not coming. The reply came instantly. What? He confirmed with me this morning. Embarrassment burned her cheeks. Emily hated Christmas blind dates. They always felt like reminders that everyone else had someone special except her. Trying to steady herself, she reached for her glass of water when two tiny shadows approached her table. Emily looked up and blinked.
Two little girls, identical twins around three, stood beside her. Each wore a red velvet Christmas dress and little white collars. One held a teddy bear. The other clutched her sister’s hand with nervous courage. “Hi,” Emily said softly, “Unsure.” The smaller girls smiled brightly. “You look sad.” The other nodded.
“Are you alone?” Emily hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I am.” The girls exchanged looks. Then the boulder one stepped forward. “Do you want to sit with us? We can share our bread, she announced proudly. Emily burst into a surprised laugh. That’s very kind, sweetheart. But where are your parents? They both turned and pointed toward the entrance.
A tall man in a dark coat stood there, frozen in surprise as he watched them talk to Emily. He hurried over, worry flashing across his face. “I am so sorry,” he said, scooping the girls close. “They shouldn’t bother you. They’re not bothering me, Emily said quickly. They’re adorable, he exhaled, relieved. They’re friendly. Very friendly.
The man, handsome, tired, but warm, offered a small smile. I’m Daniel. Emily, girls, what do we say? He asked. The twins looked straight at Emily and Chorus. You’re pretty. Emily laughed again, the heaviness in her chest beginning to melt. Thank you. Daniel apologized once more and turned to leave, but the twins tugged his coat. Daddy, she’s lonely, one whispered loudly.
And she smiles nice, the other added. Daniel cleared his throat. There, observant. Emily glanced at her empty table, the unused second place setting mocking her. If you’re waiting for your table, she offered gently. You’re welcome to sit here until they call you. Daniel paused. only if you really don’t mind.
I don’t, she said honestly for the first time all evening. They sat together. The twins showed Emily their teddy bear, their matching bracelets, and proudly announced they were 3 and 3/4. Daniel explained they lost their mother when the girls were babies, and since then Christmas had been complicated. Emily listened, truly listened, and Daniel found himself talking more easily than he’d done with anyone in years.
The twins adored her almost instantly. They demanded she help them color, begged her to tell them a Christmas story, and clung to her like she’d always been part of their world. When dinner was nearly finished, one of the girls tugged Emily’s hand and asked with utter innocence. “Will you be our mom?” Emily froze.
Daniel nearly choked on his water, but the little girls weren’t joking. They simply saw kindness and warmth, and in their tiny hearts, Emily felt like home. Daniel gently corrected them, his voice soft. “Sweethearts, that’s not how it works.” But Emily’s eyes glistened, not with sadness now, but something hopeful. “It’s okay,” she whispered, smiling at them.
“Maybe someday. We<unk>ll see.” The girls squealled and hugged her tightly. Daniel met Emily’s eyes across the table, grateful, apologetic, and suddenly wishing to. And for the first time that Christmas, Emily felt she wasn’t rejected. She had simply been redirected to the family she never knew she was meant to find.
