When I inherited their house, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it.

It sat empty, gathering dust.On Christmas Eve, something compelled

me to drive back to the house. To my surprise,it was beautifully

decorated, just as my father used to do. The door was ajar, and inside,

I found a familiar figure sitting by the fire—Max, the boy next door

from my childhood.Max had been homeless after being kicked out by his adoptive parents. He’d come back to the house for,

comfort, decorating it with the old Christmas ornaments he found in the

basement. He explained he had nowhere else to go. Touched by his story,

I invited him to spend Christmas with my family. That night, I realized

the house, once a symbol of pain, was becoming a place of healing. Evan

and I decided to renovate it for Max, giving him a fresh start. This

Christmas, I learned that even after the darkest chapters, there’s always a chance for a brighter ending.