When Michael uncovered distressing news concerning his health, his world seemed to collapse. His turmoil only deepened as he began suspecting his wife, Jen, of unfaithful behavior—with the last person he could have imagined. During a tense Thanksgiving reunion, secrets were laid bare, allegiances were challenged, and a family’s holiday took a decidedly dark turn.
On that day of gratitude, Michael found himself storming away from his parents’ home. Behind him, chaos ensued—voices were raised, chairs scraped the floor, hands were thrown up in disbelief.
The room was filled with the crash of dishes, food decorating the walls, and half-eaten meals strewn across the floor. Jen’s voice strained to penetrate the turmoil, her plea echoing, “Michael, please! Stay and hear me out!”
Her face reddened, streaked with tears, her hand outstretched shakily as she reached for him. But he turned away, unable to bring himself to look back.
His brother, Terry, lingered near the door, looking diminished and guilty, like a child caught in deceit. As their parents clashed in urgent voices, each blamed the other for the situation that had spiraled out of control.
A few weeks earlier…
Michael was behind the wheel, making his way home from the hospital. The doctor’s grave words echoed in his mind. Fear gripped him as he thought about sharing this revelation with Jen.
A frisson of dread crept into his thoughts. Would she abandon him? This thought struck harder than anything else. He sat in his car, staring into the shadowy windows of their home, while his phone buzzed in his pocket.
@Jen:
When will you be back? I’ve been waiting.
Steeling himself, Michael emerged from the car and opened the door. Jen met him with a radiant smile. He struggled to return it, feeling as if shadows clung to him.
“Everything alright?” Jen’s eyes searched his face, sensing the heavy cloud hanging over him.
Michael hesitated, feeling the dryness in his mouth. “We… need to talk,” he said, the words heavy on his tongue.
Jen’s head tilted slightly, her smile unwavering yet curious. “Hold on, before you go on, I’ve got something for you,” she chimed, her voice light and cheerful. She took his hand, pulling him gently, her excitement almost palpable. “Come see.”
Guiding him to their room, Michael noticed a tiny pair of baby socks resting beside a small box on the bed. His mind scrambled to comprehend.
“What… what is this?” he stuttered.
Jen’s eyes shimmered. “A surprise! I figured it would be more special this way.” She motioned toward the box. “Go on, open it.”
With unsteady hands, Michael lifted the lid to reveal a positive pregnancy test. A chill swept through him, his thoughts becoming a cacophony of disbelief. This couldn’t be.
“How can this be?” he faltered.
Jen’s smile broadened. “Finally! After so long, I’m pregnant! Isn’t it amazing?”
“Yeah… amazing,” Michael whispered, holding Jen close even as his mind erupted with tumult and sorrow.
Moments earlier, he had left the doctor with life-changing news. The words echoed: “You’re infertile. Children are not in your future.”
The floors seemed to shift beneath him. This was the ultimate blow to his hopes—who he was, what he wanted with Jen. And now, faced with the proof of her pregnancy, a singular conclusion loomed.
There was only one explanation. Jen, his partner for more than 15 years, the one he trusted above all else, must have betrayed his trust.
Later, Michael joined Jen at the table for breakfast. “Thanksgiving, it’s with your folks this year?” Jen asked, stirring her coffee. “Your parents, Terry… oh, and mine too.”
Michael nodded quietly. “Yeah.”
Glancing downward, Jen’s expression warmed. “But let’s keep the baby news secret for now. Christmas seems like a good time. Keeping it between us feels special.”
“Whatever you wish,” Michael agreed, though his voice barely remained even. Inside, his turmoil grew. He longed to cry out, to demand why she had shattered their bond.
Anger surged within, yet he wondered if acceptance was possible. Could he live with raising another man’s child? Adoption had been an idea before his infertility diagnosis, yet this turn of events felt altogether different, sharper, more painful.
Noticing his faraway look, Jen laughed softly, “Stuck inside your head again?”
“Yes, sorry,” Michael countered, eyeing the clock. “I’d better get going.” She leaned in for a farewell kiss, but his heart twisted. Her very presence left him feeling wretched.
Gripping the steering wheel in his car, Michael’s thoughts were of anything but work. He’d taken the day, but instead of rest, he was driven by one purpose: finding the truth. Parking a short distance from his home, his gaze fixed on their front door, his pulse quickening.
He had waited, his suspicions simmering. Just one sight of the man who had filled Michael’s place, father to Jen’s child. He needed this confirmation before confronting the truth, needing evidence he felt he could count on.
A nearby car drew his attention as Jen stepped outside, calm and unknowingly being watched. She drove, with Michael trailing quietly.
They navigated through the streets until she reached a house that filled Michael with anger. How could she choose HIM?
His hand tightened on the door handle, tempted to storm inside. Shouting, breaking—end it all? But a more potent satisfaction brewed within. Thanksgiving was approaching. What better stage to unveil their treachery?
On that festive day, entering his parents’ home with Jen, Michael surveyed familiar faces: his mother, Mila, laid the table with precision, his father, Roger, engrossed in conversation with Jen’s parents, Carla and Scott.
Near the door, displaying that familiar, unfazed grin, stood Terry—Michael’s older brother, an undesired sight.
The ease with which Terry exuded charm, the golden child as always, reignited Michael’s long-held grudge.
“Hey, little brother!” Terry greeted warmly, ruffling Michael’s hair just as he always had.
Jaw tense, Michael shrugged Terry’s hand away, voice low, “Enough.”
Terry chuckled, unperturbed, moving to greet others.
The kitchen buzzed with half-hearted hellos, but Michael’s mind remained on the charade ahead. Family faces, rarely seen, banded together under forced smiles and lackluster hugs.
Thanksgiving struck Michael as needing more honesty—a time mandating compulsory reunions amongst those tolerating each other at best. Soon enough, Mila invited all to express gratitude around the table.
Each took their turn, gratitude wrapped in polite phrases. Michael’s moment neared, his mind steeled with what he intended to reveal.
Standing, he raised his glass high, surveying the gathering. “On such a delightful day,” he smiled, voice leveled, “I offer thanks for one special thing—my lovely wife, Jen, expecting!”
A shockwave hit the room. Jen blanched, quickly leaned in, whispering fiercely, “Michael, we agreed it’s too soon.”
Michael’s gaze bore into hers, cold. “And we also pledged fidelity in marriage,” his words cutting sharply.
Mila lit up, oblivious, “Michael! Congratulations!” she beamed, applauding.
“Yes! We’ve yearned for our daughter to give us a grandchild,” Carla added, as Scott nodded fervently.
“My son, a father at last! Marvelous news,” Roger affirmed, eyes shining with pride.
Michael’s smile twisted, a hint of bitterness. “Wonderful indeed, except the father isn’t who you believe.” He hesitated, gaze locking on Terry. “Because the father… is Terry.”
The gasp echoed throughout. Terry turned ashen, silence enveloping him, evading all eyes.
“Michael, what’s this?” Jen’s voice wavered, eyes diluted with confusion. “Terry? How could you think so? You’re my husband; our baby’s yours!” She reached for his hand, only to have it snatched away, frozen by Michael’s stoic gaze.
“Drop the façade, Jen. I witnessed your visit,” Michael said, words icy. “Why him? Even now, I’m overshadowed—reduced to second, even to Terry. My own wife, choosing him.”
Agitated, Terry raised his hands pleadingly. “Come on, brother, nothing shady here. Jen was aiding with home design ideas—she’s got the knack! She just offered some help.”
“Yes, just that!” Jen added, desperation edging her voice.
A shake of Michael’s head followed, devoid of warmth. “Jen, I learned I’m infertile.”
Jen paled. “What? You hadn’t told me.”
“The same exact day you displayed the test,” he explained softly.
“Michael, don’t! I’ll sever ties with Terry, I swear. Don’t leave us,” she begged.
“By tomorrow, arrive the divorce papers,” his voice was flat. “Sign them. And know this Thanksgiving, I am grateful—for the newfound clarity, understanding my worth here. I’d never stoop to such betrayal.”
Draining his glass, Michael bore the burn, setting it down with palpable resolve. Unfazed, he headed for the door, steps weighty and definitive.
Voices intertwined behind, frantic and confused. Pleas, disbelief, Michael tuned out. At the door, he hesitated just briefly, gripping the handle with determination, giving it a satisfying close. This Thanksgiving marked their last as one.
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