A Thanksgiving to Remember
Thanksgiving morning started like any other: me, Amelia, running around the kitchen while my husband, Ryan, was parked in front of the TV yelling at football players who couldn’t hear him.
But this year, Thanksgiving wasn’t going to end like any other. Oh no, this year came with a side of revenge served hot and satisfying.
I was 35 back then, married to Ryan for ten years. Together, we had two adorable daughters. Thanksgiving was my “thing.” I cooked, cleaned, hosted, and made sure everyone left stuffed and happy. Ryan? His contribution was waking up late, flopping onto the couch, and shouting at the TV.
This particular Thanksgiving started at 6 a.m. for me. By noon, the turkey was roasting in the oven, the green bean casserole was ready, and my girls were sitting at the kitchen table drawing hand turkeys. That’s when the doorbell rang.
“Who’s knocking on Thanksgiving?” I muttered, wiping my hands on my apron.
I opened the door to see a delivery guy grinning and holding a box. The delicious smell of roasted turkey wafted out. “Special delivery!” he chirped, shoving the box into my hands.
“I think you’ve got the wrong house,” I said, confused.
“Nah, this is the address. Enjoy your turkey!” He waved and hurried off.
I closed the door and placed the box on the counter, my mind spinning. Had Ryan done something sweet for once? Maybe he ordered this turkey to save me some work.
Inside was the most perfect, golden-brown turkey I’d ever seen. My heart softened for a moment. Was this his way of surprising me? Then I saw the card.
Tucked next to the turkey was a note with elegant handwriting:
“Thank you for sharing your husband with me! Happy Thanksgiving. XO, Kelsey.”
I froze. My stomach twisted. Sharing my husband? What did that mean?
I turned to Ryan, still glued to the TV, oblivious as always.
Grabbing his phone off the counter, I pressed the lock screen. And there it was—a notification from someone named “Kelsey ❤️.” My heart sank.
I hesitated. Snoop or let it go? But I had to know. Ryan thought he was clever keeping his phone locked, but I knew his passcode—it was Peyton Manning’s birthday, of course. Football trumped everything, including common sense.
The messages confirmed it all.
“Can’t wait to see you later,” one read.
“Did she get the turkey yet? LOL. Happy Thanksgiving, babe,” said another.
I felt like the floor had been yanked out from under me. Not only was he cheating, but they were laughing at me!
But if they thought I was just going to sit there and take it, they didn’t know who they were messing with. Thanksgiving wasn’t over, and I was about to serve up a feast they’d never forget.
By the time dinner rolled around, Ryan’s parents, sister, and my family were all gathered at the table. The girls were running around, showing off their hand turkeys. I smiled, played the perfect hostess, and kept my rage locked tight behind my teeth.
Ryan leaned back in his chair, smug as ever. “You know,” he said, “Thanksgiving wouldn’t be the same without Amelia. She works so hard every year. I have the best taste in women.”
His mom nodded. “Ryan’s so lucky to have you, dear.”
“Oh, he’s lucky, all right,” I said, forcing a smile.
After dinner, I stood up. “Excuse me for a moment. I have a little surprise for the girls in their room. I’ll be back with dessert.”
I settled the girls with a movie, then returned to the dining room with the mystery turkey in its box. I placed it in the middle of the table, and the room went silent.
“What’s this?” Ryan’s mom asked.
“This,” I said sweetly, “is a special delivery from Ryan’s girlfriend. Thought I’d share it with everyone.”
Ryan’s face turned as pale as mashed potatoes. “What are you talking about?” he stammered.
I held up the note. “Care to explain this?”
He tried to laugh it off. “This is crazy, Amelia! It’s a joke!”
“Oh, really?” I said, pulling his phone from my pocket. I scrolled to Kelsey’s messages and handed it to his mom. “How about these?”
His mother’s face turned red as she read the texts. “Ryan,” she said, her voice trembling. “Is this true?”
Ryan stammered, but his dad slammed a fist on the table. “Answer her! Are you cheating on your wife?”
Ryan couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. His sister stood up, glaring at him. “You’re disgusting, Ryan. Amelia deserves better than you.”
Finally, I spoke. “Ryan, you’re right about one thing. I do work hard. But not for you anymore.”
I pulled a bag from under the table. Inside were a set of shiny new locks and a business card. “Here’s what’s happening next. The locks are for the house. The card is for my divorce lawyer. You have until tomorrow morning to pack your things.”
“You can’t do this!” he sputtered.
“Oh, I can. Happy Thanksgiving, Ryan. Take this turkey to Kelsey—she can have you. I’m done sharing.”
Ryan’s mom burst into tears. His dad shook his head. His sister muttered, “Good riddance.”
Ryan left that night, tail between his legs. Over the next few days, he begged for forgiveness, but I ignored him. His family stood by me, which made things easier.
I found out later that Kelsey kicked him to the curb, too. She didn’t want him—she just wanted me to find out. Honestly, I’m grateful.
By the next Thanksgiving, I was with someone new. He woke up early, made the turkey himself, and let me relax for the first time in years.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that betrayal can hurt, but it can also set you free.
And that’s exactly what it did for me.
What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts in the comments below! 😊
