THE FATHER-IN-LAW TRAVELED 300 MILES WITH CHRISTMAS GIFTS FOR HIS GRANDSON — ONLY TO BE DESPISED, HIS GIFTS THROWN INTO THE TRASH AND HIM “POLITELY SENT AWAY” BY HIS CITY SON-IN-LAW… ONLY FOR THE MAN TO RECEIVE A THUNDERBOLT OF NEWS THE MOMENT HE TURNED BACK

The last days of the year in New York were bitterly cold. Snow drifted lightly across the streets, Christmas lights glittered on balconies and glass windows of luxury apartment buildings. The festive atmosphere filled the city, yet inside a high-end apartment on the 18th floor in Manhattan, Jason Miller was visibly irritated.

It was his rare lunch break after a long morning of meetings. Jason had just stretched out on the sofa when the doorbell rang repeatedly, sharp and insistent, shattering his rest.

— Who on earth would come at this hour? — he muttered, frowning as he stood up and adjusted his cashmere sweater.

He opened the door, annoyance written all over his face.

And then he froze.

Standing before him was Robert Thompson — his father-in-law.

The elderly man in his early sixties stood quietly in the hallway, his body thin and slightly stooped from age and exhaustion. He wore a worn-out coat with frayed shoulders, plastic sandals on his feet, and carried a large green sack slung over his shoulder, stained with dried mud. His breath was uneven, sweat still clinging to his forehead from climbing up the stairs.

— Hello, Jason… — Robert smiled gently, revealing yellowed teeth stained by years of tobacco — I came to visit you, Anna, and little Ben. It’s freezing back home. I caught a few chickens, brought some freshly harvested sticky rice… and a few Christmas gifts for my grandson…

Before he could finish, Jason’s face tightened. He instinctively stepped back, his eyes flicking from the old sandals to the dirty sack, as if afraid the filth might leap onto his million-dollar apartment.

— You came without calling first? — Jason said coldly — We just had the place cleaned. That sack is filthy. Don’t bring it inside. Leave it in the hallway.

Robert stiffened. The smile slowly faded from his face.

At that moment, Anna, Jason’s wife, rushed out after hearing her father’s voice. The moment she saw him, her eyes welled with tears.

— Dad! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve gone to pick you up! — she said, taking his hand — Come inside, it’s freezing out here.

She bent down to lift the sack, but Jason immediately blocked her, his voice sharp:

— Are you crazy? Do you want to drag all that dirt inside? The hardwood floor was imported from Italy. One scratch could cost thousands of dollars. Leave it outside. We’ll deal with it later.

The air fell heavy and tense.

Robert stood still, clutching the sack awkwardly. He nodded faintly and set it down in the corner of the hallway. His hands trembled as he brushed dust off his pants before carefully stepping inside, each movement cautious, afraid of disturbing the pristine space.

He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a cheap velvet Santa hat and several brightly colored plastic toy boxes.

— Where’s Ben? — he asked Anna eagerly — I bought a Santa hat for him. Kids back home love these…

Just then, little Ben ran out of his room, eyes lighting up at the sight of his grandfather. He was about to throw himself into Robert’s arms when Jason suddenly shouted:

— Ben! Stop!

The boy froze in fear.

— Don’t touch those things. Cheap plastic, untested dyes — who knows how toxic they are? I’ve told you how many times already. Go back to your room. Now!

Ben’s lips trembled, tears welling up in his eyes. He turned and ran back to his room, leaving Robert standing there, motionless, still holding the red Santa hat.

Anna choked back tears.

— Jason, that’s my father… and they’re just gifts for a child…

Jason waved her off.

— You don’t understand. In this city, everything has standards. Cleanliness. Class. I don’t want my son exposed to that kind of backward stuff.

That afternoon, while Anna was out taking Ben to his after-school class, Jason quietly carried the sack downstairs. He opened it — cleaned chickens, bags of sticky rice, dried squash, carefully wrapped gifts.

Without hesitation, he threw everything into the communal trash bin in the parking garage.

When he returned, he spoke to his father-in-law with forced politeness:

— You’ve had a long trip, Dad. You should head back early. Our place is small, and it’s inconvenient. When we have time, I’ll let Anna and Ben visit you later.

Robert looked at him silently, sadness filling his eyes. Then he nodded.

— Alright… I understand… — he said softly — I just wanted to see my grandson. I’ll go now.

That evening, Jason had just stepped back into the apartment and hadn’t even taken off his coat when his phone rang.

An unfamiliar number.

— Is this Jason Miller? — a hurried voice asked — We’re calling from a suburban hospital. Your father-in-law, Mr. Robert Thompson… was involved in an accident on his way home. He’s in critical condition…

The phone slipped from Jason’s hand.

His ears rang. The Christmas music drifting in from outside suddenly felt distant, unreal.

The image of the old man standing in the snow, carrying a filthy sack, smiling awkwardly at his door — flashed vividly before his eyes.

For the first time in his life, Jason understood:

Some gifts cannot be bought with money.
And some acts of contempt must be paid for with a lifetime of regret.