When Michael discovers shocking news about his health, his world shatters. But his heartbreak deepens as he suspects his wife, Jen, of betrayal—with the last person he’d expect. In a tense Thanksgiving gathering, secrets unravel, loyalties are tested, and one family’s holiday takes a dark, unforgettable turn.
On Thanksgiving, Michael stormed out of his parents’ house. Behind him, chaos erupted—a flurry of voices, chairs scraping, hands thrown in disbelief.
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Food splattered against the walls, and half-filled plates crashed onto the floor. Jen’s voice broke through the uproar, cracking as she pleaded, “Michael, please! Don’t go, just listen to me!”
Her face was red and tear-streaked, her hand reaching out to him, fingers trembling. But he didn’t look back. He couldn’t.
His brother, Terry, was standing near the doorway, looking small, guilty, like a kid caught in a lie. Their parents shouted at each other, each blaming the other for how things had fallen apart.
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A few weeks earlier…
Michael was in his car, driving home from the hospital. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, wondering how he would break the news to Jen.
Would she leave him? The thought struck him with a fresh wave of dread. He sat outside the house, staring at the darkened windows, gathering his courage. His phone buzzed.
@Jen:
When will you be back? I’ve been waiting.
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Michael took a deep breath, stepped out, and opened the door. There she was, smiling brightly. He tried to smile back, but worry clung to him like a shadow.
“Is everything alright?” Jen asked, studying Michael’s face. Her eyes searched his, catching the heaviness in his expression.
Michael paused, his mouth dry. “We… we need to talk,” he said.
Jen tilted her head, her smile soft but curious. “Well, before that, I have something for you,” she said, her voice warm and bright. She reached out, taking his hand, her excitement almost childlike. “Come with me.”
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She led him into the bedroom, where a pair of tiny baby socks lay next to a small box on the bed. Michael stared, confused, his mind struggling to catch up.
“What… what is this?” he managed.
Jen’s eyes sparkled. “I wanted to surprise you! If I just told you, it wouldn’t be as special.” She nodded toward the box. “Go ahead, open it.”
Michael picked it up, his hands shaking as he lifted the lid. Inside was a positive pregnancy test. A chill ran through him, his thoughts in chaos. This wasn’t possible.
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“Wait, how?” he stammered.
Jen’s grin grew wider. “I don’t know! After all this time, I’m finally pregnant! Aren’t you happy?”
“Yes… I’m… happy,” Michael said as she hugged him, but his mind roared with shock and hurt, doubts swirling as he held her tightly.
He had just returned from the doctor’s office, carrying the weight of terrible news. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind: “You’re infertile. You won’t be able to have children.”
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It felt like his world was crumbling. This changed everything he’d ever dreamed of for his future with Jen. And now, seeing that positive pregnancy test, a sickening thought took over.
There was only one explanation. Jen, his love for over 15 years, the woman he trusted more than anyone, had been unfaithful.
A few days later, Jen and Michael sat at the breakfast table. “So, we’ll be with your family on Thanksgiving this year?” Jen asked, stirring her coffee. “Your mom and dad, your brother… oh, and my parents, they’re joining us too.”
Michael nodded. “Yeah.”
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Jen looked down, smiling. “But… let’s not tell anyone about the pregnancy yet. It’s early. I think we should wait, maybe until Christmas. Just us knowing for now feels special.”
“Whatever you want,” Michael replied, trying to keep his voice steady. But inside, his mind was anything but calm. He wanted to shout, to demand why she had betrayed him.
The anger boiled inside, and yet, he found himself wondering if he could somehow accept it. Could he raise another man’s child? He had thought about adoption before learning he was infertile, but this was different. The pain of her betrayal held him back.
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Jen tilted her head, watching him. “You’re off in your head again,” she said, laughing lightly.
“Yes, sorry,” Michael muttered, glancing at the clock. “I should get going.” She leaned over to kiss him goodbye, but he only felt disgust as her lips touched his.
Michael slid into his car and gripped the wheel, but work was the last thing on his mind. He had taken the entire day off, not for rest, but for answers. He parked a short distance from the house, his gaze fixed on the front door, his heartbeat quickening.
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He had waited for this moment, hoping to confirm his worst suspicions. All he needed was a glimpse of the man Jen had chosen over him. He had to see who had taken his place, who was the father of her child.
Since the day he found out about her affair, his mind had been plagued by questions. What had he done wrong? Was he not enough? Only Jen could answer, but he wasn’t ready to confront her directly. He needed proof, something undeniable. First, he had to know who the father of her child was.
A car pulled up nearby, snapping him out of his thoughts. He watched Jen step outside, her face calm and unhurried. She got into the car and drove off, unaware that Michael was following her at a careful distance.
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They wove through the streets, and soon, Michael realized where she was going. She stopped outside a house he knew well. He felt his stomach twist in anger and disbelief. Of all the people, she had chosen HIM.
Michael’s hands shook as he gripped the door handle, ready to charge inside and end this now. He wanted to confront them, to shout, to break things.
But then a colder, more satisfying thought came to him. Why let them get away with it quietly? He would ruin them in front of everyone. Thanksgiving was only days away, and he could wait. He would expose them both, and they’d pay for this betrayal.
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On Thanksgiving, as Michael and Jen entered his parents’ house, Michael’s eyes swept over the familiar faces: his mom, Mila, setting the table with care, his dad, Roger, in deep conversation with Jen’s parents, Carla and Scott.
But standing near the doorway, laughing with that same, confident grin, was Terry—Michael’s older brother and the last person he wanted to see.
Seeing Terry, his resentment flared, more intense than ever. Terry had always been the golden child, everyone’s favorite, effortlessly charming.
“Little brother!” Terry called, striding over and giving Michael’s hair a playful ruffle, just as he had since they were kids.
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Michael’s jaw clenched. He stepped back, brushing Terry’s hand away with a hard swipe. “Don’t,” he muttered, his tone clipped.
“Not very polite of you!” Terry laughed, seemingly unfazed, and turned to greet others.
In the kitchen, Michael gave his mother a quick hello, his mind focused on the charade about to unfold. Family members who rarely saw each other pretended they were close, filling the room with false smiles and half-hearted hugs.
It struck Michael that maybe this was what Thanksgiving was really about—a forced gathering of people who barely tolerated each other. Finally, Mila asked everyone to sit and start with what they were thankful for.
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The others took turns, each offering words of gratitude wrapped in politeness. Michael’s turn was coming, and he knew exactly what he wanted to say.
Finally, it was Michael’s turn. He rose, holding his glass high, his gaze moving over everyone at the table. “On this wonderful day,” he began, his voice steady, “I want to give thanks for just one thing—that my lovely wife, Jen, is pregnant!”
A hush fell over the room. Jen’s face turned pale, and she quickly stood, leaning toward him. In a whisper, she said, “Michael, we agreed not to tell anyone yet.”
Michael’s expression hardened. “And we also agreed to be faithful in marriage,” he replied, his words sharp and low, piercing through her like ice.
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Mila’s face brightened, unaware of the tension. “Oh, Michael! Congratulations!” she said, clapping her hands together.
“Yes, we’ve waited years for our daughter to give us a grandchild,” Carla chimed in, beaming as Scott nodded along.
Roger looked at Michael with pride. “My son is finally becoming a father! This is wonderful news.”
Michael’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Oh, it’s wonderful, all right. Only it’s not the son you think,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Because the father of this child… is Terry.”
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A collective gasp rippled through the table. Terry’s face drained of color, and he sat in stunned silence, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Michael, what are you saying?” Jen’s voice shook as she looked at him, her eyes wide with confusion. “Terry? Why would you think that? You’re my husband; this baby is yours!” She reached for his hand, but Michael yanked it away, his face hard.
“Don’t lie to me, Jen. I saw you at his house,” he replied, his voice sharp. “Why would you choose him? After everything? You know how I’ve always felt—like I was never good enough, always second to Terry. And now, even my own wife picked him over me.”
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Terry shifted uncomfortably, lifting his hands in protest. “Come on, brother, it’s not like that. She was just helping me with some ideas for my place. She took a few design classes; I wanted her advice. That’s it.”
“Yes, Michael, it was only that. I swear. You have to believe me,” Jen said, her voice breaking.
Michael shook his head, his eyes cold. “Jen, I’m infertile.”
Jen’s face drained of color. “What? You… you never told me.”
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“I found out the same day you showed me the test,” he said quietly.
“Michael, please. I’ll cut off all contact with Terry. I’ll never see him again, I promise. Just don’t leave me,” she begged.
“Tomorrow, you’ll get the divorce papers,” he replied, his tone flat. “Sign them. And the one thing I am thankful for today is that you’ve helped me realize who was truly second-rate here, because I would never have done this to you.”
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Michael drained his glass in one swift motion, feeling the burn as he set it down with finality. Without a glance back, he turned toward the door, each step heavy and deliberate.
Behind him, voices erupted, rising in frantic confusion and anger. He caught snippets—Jen’s desperate pleas, his mother’s shocked cries, and his father’s attempts to calm everyone. He thought he even heard plates clatter and food splatter against the walls in the chaos he’d left behind.
Reaching the door, Michael paused momentarily, gripping the handle tightly, then pulled it shut with a firm click. It was the last Thanksgiving they’d ever have as a family.
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