When I agreed to go on vacation with my fiancé and his twin daughters, I thought we were celebrating a fresh start. Instead, I returned from the resort’s pool to a mysterious note that confused me more than ever. When we went back home, a shocking surprise awaited.
I met Matt three years ago at a charity event. He was charming and confident and had this soft spot for his daughters that instantly melted my heart. Ella and Sophie, his five-year-old twins, were the sweetest little girls.
A happy blonde man in his 30s running in the park with his twin daughters | Source: Midjourney
They’d lost their mother at the age of one, and Matt had done a marvelous job at raising them to be polite little girls.
I didn’t have much experience with kids, but those two made it easy. They’d run up to me with school stories whenever I was around, and before I knew it, they’d wormed their way into my heart.
One evening, after a particularly long day at work, Matt showed up at my apartment with the girls in tow. They were holding handmade cards with glitter and stickers.
Twin blonde girls, 5 years old, smile while holding cards in the living room | Source: Midjourney
“We wanted to surprise you!” Ella beamed, thrusting the card into my hands. Inside, it read, “Thank you for being part of our family.”
I was speechless. Before Matt, I had dated men who were incredibly afraid of commitment. Truly. I was a magnet for those. I’d had so many bad dates that I can’t remember them all. But at that moment, looking at my boyfriend’s glowing eyes and his little girls, I felt pure warmth. I loved all three of them.
A black-haired woman in her 30s frowning at a man on a bad date night in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
That’s why there was really no other answer than “YES!” when Matt proposed after a special dinner that his daughters helped prepare around a week later. My life was coming together at last, and I couldn’t wait to get started, so I moved into Matt’s house as soon as I could.
Then, I started wedding planning. I had particular ideas about flowers, my dress, the girls’ gowns, and the venue. I’m a type-A kind of person, so I was really in the zone, but Matt got overwhelmed after a couple of months.
A black-haired woman in her 30s sits on the floor in front of the couch in the living room with flowers and samples on the coffee table smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Let’s take a break before the chaos hits,” Matt suggested one night in our bed. “A family vacation, just the four of us. It’ll be our little escape before the big day.”
I wasn’t eager to leave when there was so much to do, plus our work, but I agreed. He needed it badly. We booked a trip to a cozy island resort.
The first two days were magical. Ella and Sophie couldn’t stop giggling as they splashed in the pool, and I loved watching them build sandcastles with Matt on the beach.
Twin blonde girls, 5 years old, smiling and building a sandcastle on the beach | Source: Midjourney
“Dorothy, look!” Sophie yelled, pointing at a sandcastle she’d decorated with shells. “Isn’t it pretty?”
“It’s beautiful,” I told her, snapping a picture with my phone.
Matt walked up, brushing sand off his hands. “You ready for some ice cream, girls?”
“Yes!” they both screamed in unison, running ahead.
Matt slipped his arm around my shoulders. “This was a good idea. We needed this.”
I leaned into him. “Yeah, we really did.”
A black-haired woman and a blonde man in their 30s cuddle close on the beach | Source: Midjourney
I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop because I knew most people didn’t have this many picture-perfect family moments. And that came on our third afternoon at the resort.
Matt had wanted to stay back at the hotel that morning. He felt too tired, but the girls were buzzing for more time at the pool. So, I took them myself.
But by noon, Matt still hadn’t come down and wasn’t answering my calls, so I rounded up the girls and headed back to our floor.
A black-haired woman in her 30s walks worried down a hotel hallway with two twin girls in the background | Source: Midjourney
The girls chattered excitedly about the new friends they’d made at the pool. I barely registered their words as I unlocked the door to our room. Pushing it open, I froze.
I didn’t see anything amiss immediately. But my instincts told me something was wrong. I walked deeper inside and finally noticed that Matt’s suitcase was gone.
The room was perfectly polished and our beds made, meaning the cleaning service had stopped by. I went to the bathroom and only saw my things along with the girls’ stuff.
A tidy resort hotel room with two beds | Source: Midjourney
His clothes, toiletries, and even his phone charger had vanished.
“Dorothy, where’s Daddy?” Ella asked, tugging at my hand.
My heart raced as I shook my head, and finally, on the nightstand, I spotted a note: “I have to disappear. Soon, you’ll understand.”
I sat down heavily on the bed, the heavy paper trembling in my hands. Disappear? What did that even mean? Was he in danger? Were we?
“Dorothy, are you okay?” Sophie whispered, her big eyes filled with worry.
Twin girls, 5 years old, stand worried in a hotel resort room | Source: Midjourney
I forced a smile, trying to think quickly. What would any guardian do in this situation? Distract the girls.
“I’m fine, sweetie,” I replied. “Let’s get cleaned up and go downstairs for ice cream. Daddy is probably down there, too.”
The girls cheered and went to the bathroom together. That was good. They hadn’t seen my panic, and I couldn’t let them. Not yet. Not until I got some answers.
But Matt was truly gone, according to a nice bellhop who saw him with bags, hailing a cab. I tried calling, being as discreet as possible, but he still wasn’t answering his phone.
A worried blonde man in his 30s getting into a car | Source: Midjourney
Later, I finally managed to get the girls to sleep. I’d assured them that their dad had to go home early, but the lie left a bitter taste in my mouth. Alone on the balcony, I scrolled endlessly through my phone messages.
Still nothing from Matt. I started biting my nails, a habit that hadn’t surfaced in years, as my mind raced. Did he get cold feet? Was there something he wasn’t telling me?
Just in case, I called the front desk to ask if they’d heard from Matt. They hadn’t. I left more messages on his phone. Morning came, and there was nothing to do but pack up and go home.
A black-haired woman in her 30s packs clothes and carries a bag in a resort hotel room | Source: Midjourney
The plane ride was excruciating. Thankfully, the girls were occupied with their coloring books.
“Are we going to see Daddy when we get home?” Ella asked.
I swallowed hard. “I’m sure we will, sweetie.” I hated lying because I honestly had no idea what we were returning to.
When we finally landed, I was exhausted. The cab ride felt way too long, and I was so tired from the previous sleepless night that I fumbled with the keys several times, trying to unlock the door to our house while balancing our bags.
A woman’s hand holds keys in the lock of a front door | Source: Midjourney
“Come on, girls,” I called, yawning. “We’re home.”
But as I stepped inside, I stopped dead in my tracks.
In the middle of the living room, there was a bundle wrapped in a blanket. It was moving.
“What is that?” I whispered to myself.
Before I could react, the girls rushed past me.
“A puppy!” Ella squealed, dropping her backpack. “It’s a puppy!”
A Saint Bernard puppy wrapped in a blue blanket in the living room | Source: Midjourney
The bundle wriggled, and a tiny St. Bernard poked its head out, tail wagging furiously. Sophie knelt, giggling as the puppy licked her face.
“Can we keep him? Please, Dorothy?” Sophie begged, her eyes wide with excitement.
I was too stunned to answer. But then, I saw a note tucked into the puppy’s forgotten blanket and picked it up.
“Dorothy, I know this was sudden, and I probably acted too rashly, but let me explain. I was scrolling through my phone at the hotel when I saw my friend giving away pups online. I had to leave immediately to make sure this little guy would be ours.
A blonde man in his 30s sits on a hotel resort bed scrolling his phone smiling | Source: Midjourney
Remember the story you told me about your childhood St. Bernard, Max? I couldn’t pass up the chance to bring that joy back into your life, as you’ve brought love into our lives.
Thank you for caring so much about my daughters. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for moving right in, and thank you for accepting to be ours forever. I’m sorry I didn’t explain before, but I got too excited. Please forgive me and give Max Jr. a little pet.”
A happy Saint Bernard puppy with its tongue lolling out in the living room | Source: Midjourney
I sank onto the couch, shaking my head as my whole body felt relieved. My goofy fiancé had scared me half to death! But he’d done it for a beautiful reason.
Max. I hadn’t thought about him in years. When I was four, Max saved me from drowning during a family picnic. That dog was my hero, my protector. Losing him to old age had been devastating.
And now, Max Jr. was here, wagging his tail and making the girls laugh.
“Dorothy, what’s wrong?” Ella asked, her eyes shining.
Twin girls, 5 years old, smile with a Saint Bernard puppy in the living room | Source: Midjourney
I spoke through a thick throat. “Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just… surprised.”
A few minutes later, the front door creaked open. Matt stepped inside, looking sheepish and carrying a bag of puppy supplies.
“Surprise?” he said tentatively.
I stood up and ran to him, not knowing if I wanted to throttle him for scaring me or kiss him senselessly. Kissing him won out.
A couple in their 30s embrace in the living room, content | Source: Midjourney
“You could’ve told me! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?” I whispered, breathless after our lips parted.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Matt said, his arms tightening around my waist. “But I couldn’t risk someone else adopting all the dogs before I had a chance. I had to return yesterday.”
Just then, the girls ran over, Max Jr. bounding after them.
“Daddy, you got us the puppy?” Ella asked, beaming.
We separated, and Matt crouched down, ruffling their hair. “Yes, baby! What do you think? Good surprise?”
A blonde man in his 30s with twin girls, 5 years old, smiling happily while looking at a puppy in the living room | Source: Midjourney
“The best!” Sophie answered instead and hugged him tightly.
Her sister joined their embrace, and that’s why I couldn’t stay mad. Seeing the joy on their faces melted my frustration. Still, I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.
“You owe me big time,” I warned, poking him in the chest.
Matt grinned. “Deal.”
We spent the rest of the evening playing with Max Jr. He chased the girls around the yard, barking happily, and curled up on the couch with us for a movie night.
A black-haired woman in her 30s curls up with a sleeping Saint Bernard puppy on the couch while watching TV | Source: Midjourney
Later, the puppy joined Matt and me in our bed, where he would sleep for the rest of his wonderful, amazing life.
Also, Matt paid what he owed me, so to speak… by giving me the best life possible.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Insisted on Cooking the Turkey This Year – What He Did to It Made Me Question Our Marriage
When Jake insists on cooking Thanksgiving turkey for the first time, Jen is skeptical but supportive until the result is a culinary disaster no one at the table can ignore. But the real shock comes when she discovers the recipe isn’t Jake’s. As tensions simmer and doubts creep in, she’s forced to confront the cracks in their marriage. This Thanksgiving, the turkey isn’t the only thing leaving a bad aftertaste.
Thanksgiving has always been my domain. I’m not saying I’m Martha Stewart in any way, but the turkey? That’s my masterpiece.
So when Jake, my husband of six years, announced he’d be taking the reins this year, I was caught off guard.
A woman standing in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“This year, I’m cooking the turkey,” he declared over dinner one night, his tone brimming with confidence.
“I’ve got a secret recipe, Jen…”
I smiled at him, though something about the way he said secret made my stomach do a little flip.
“Alright,” I said, keeping my tone light. “I’ll put my feet up, maybe do my nails. Just let me know if you need any help.”
A man sitting at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
“I won’t,” he shot back quickly.
Too quickly.
“This is going to be special.”
Jake’s always been eager to impress. At work, with his friends, his mother — especially his mother. And Patricia’s the type of woman who finds fault in compliments. She’d call the Mona Lisa “a little boring.”
A woman drinking a glass of wine | Source: Midjourney
The morning of Thanksgiving, Jake was a man possessed. He’d woken up early to prep, shooing me out of the kitchen before I could even pour my coffee.
“I’ve got it under control,” he chirped.
Patricia, perched at the counter with her ever-present glass of wine, raised a skeptical eyebrow.
A coffee machine | Source: Midjourney
“Jen, are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked me, her voice dripping with faux concern. “You’ve always done the turkey so well.”
“It’ll be fine,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.
Hours later, Jake emerged from the kitchen with our Thanksgiving centerpiece. To his credit, it looked perfect. Golden-brown, glistening, straight out of a food magazine or blog. He had even made roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a thick gravy.
A Thanksgiving turkey | Source: Midjourney
My mom clapped enthusiastically. Patricia tilted her head, inspecting it like a jeweler appraising a diamond.
“It smells amazing!” my mom gushed.
We gathered around the table, Jake beaming as he carved the first slice. Music was being played, plates were passed, and soon everyone had a helping. I cut into mine, ready to be caught off guard by the delicious meal.
People sitting around a table | Source: Midjourney
The moment it hit my tongue, I gagged.
“What the…?” I coughed, reaching for my water.
It wasn’t savory. It wasn’t even remotely turkey-like. It was sweet. Sickeningly, cloyingly sweet, like someone had glazed it with melted candy or something.
“Jake,” I managed, staring at him in disbelief. “What is this?”
A woman holding a napkin to her mouth | Source: Midjourney
Patricia, mid-chew, spat hers into a napkin with dramatic flair.
“Oh, Jake. Oh no.”
Jake’s face flushed red.
“It’s a glaze!” he said defensively. “Brown sugar, maple syrup, and marshmallow fluff. It’s different! It’s creative!”
A woman holding napkin to her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“Creative?” I echoed. “It tastes like someone dropped a turkey in a vat of something at Willy Wonka’s factory.”
The room fell silent. My brother-in-law, Steven, stifled a laugh. My mom pretended to focus on her mashed potatoes. Patricia, never one to miss an opportunity, shook her head with a dramatic sigh.
“This is why we don’t mess with tradition, Jake. Since you got married, Jen’s been the turkey girl. Tradition, Jake. Tradition.”
A woman sitting at a table with a glass of wine | Source: Midjourney
Jake’s jaw tightened at her comment, but he stayed quiet. I noticed his hand twitch toward the wine bottle. Like he wanted to grab it and drown out the awkwardness with some good old fermented grapes.
Later, after most of our guests had shuffled home and Jake had retreated to the den to lick his wounds, I stayed behind to clean the kitchen.
“Don’t worry about it, honey,” I said. “You chill in there, and I’ll be with you soon. I stashed a pumpkin pie earlier, because I know we like it with cold whipped cream.”
A slice of pumpkin pie and whipped cream | Source: Midjourney
I was trying to be nice. To help him realize that it had been a mistake, and nothing was wrong with that.
As I tossed scraps into the trash, a crumpled piece of paper caught my eye. Curious, I smoothed it out, revealing a handwritten recipe.
My heart sped up when I saw the name at the bottom of the page.
Sarah.
The contents of a trash can | Source: Midjourney
Sarah. Jake’s ex-wife.
My hands trembled as I stared at the card. Of all the people Jake could have gone to for a recipe — Google searches included — why on earth would he choose her? My mind worked overtime, trying to connect dots I didn’t want to see.
I stormed into the living room, holding the recipe card like evidence. Jake looked up from his football game rerun, his face draining of color.
A man sitting in front of a TV | Source: Midjourney
“Care to explain this?” I asked, my voice colder than I intended.
Jake sat up straighter.
“I… uh… I just wanted to make something special, Jen. Sarah worked as a cook for a while, when she was into catering. And I thought she’d… you know… have some good ideas for me.”
A woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“You thought Sarah would have the answer?” I interrupted, my voice rising. “Not me, your wife, the person who has been cooking almost all of your meals, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners included, for years?”
Jake’s mouth opened, then closed. For once, he had no response.
“I just… I didn’t want to mess up,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so good at it, and I thought if I asked, you’d take over. I wanted to prove that I could do it all on my own.”
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
“And you couldn’t just ask me for a little help?” I snapped. “Not even for my suggestions? Instead, you went to your ex-wife?”
Jake winced.
“Jen, it wasn’t like that…”
“No?” I shot back. “Then what was it like?”
A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
As I lay staring at the ceiling that night, my mind wouldn’t stop spiraling. Jake’s explanation felt weak. If he was too insecure to ask for my help with a turkey, what did that say about our relationship?
And Sarah?
Why her?
Was she really his best option, or was something else behind it? I mean, if I’m being honest, people always say you remember your first love forever.
A woman laying in bed at night | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, Jake approached me with a mug of coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m really sorry, love. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to impress everyone, and I… I messed up royally.”
I nodded, keeping calm and collected, as I had instructed myself all night. I could barely sleep with my mind running through the possibilities.
A cup of coffee and a slice of pie | Source: Midjourney
“I understand wanting to impress people, Jake. But here’s the thing — next time you want advice, like good, solid advice, maybe start with the person you married. And for the record? Sarah sabotaged you. This recipe? Unless it was for some sickly sweet cereal treat, it was revenge, plain and simple.”
Jake blinked, his mouth dropping open.
“You think…”
A man looking shocked | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, I don’t think, Jake,” I said firmly. “I know.”
He groaned, sinking into the nearest chair.
“Goodness, I’m such an idiot.”
Jake couldn’t seem to meet my eyes for the rest of Thanksgiving weekend. He apologized again, twice, but it didn’t erase the lingering doubt. I kept replaying the moment I found that recipe card and the look on his face when I confronted him.
A man looking apologetic | Source: Midjourney
Patricia, of course, added fuel to the fire. She was staying with us for the weekend and naturally had heard everything.
“Well, at least he learned his lesson,” she remarked with a smug sip of her wine.
Jake had decided to take our dog for a walk, leaving Patricia and me alone, dissecting the entire turkey fiasco.
A man with his dog | Source: Midjourney
“Do you really think he went to her for help?” I asked my mother-in-law. “That there is nothing else going on?”
“Darling, Sarah cheated on him. She broke his little heart, so it can’t be anything more. I think our foolish man just wanted to impress the women in his life, so he reached out to the only other one he knew well.”
“I’m doubting everything.” I admitted, picking up Patricia’s glass of wine and taking a sip.
A woman holding a glass of wine | Source: Midjourney
“Jen, he adores you. He’s just a bit stupid sometimes. But if you think that a bigger and more important conversation needs to be had, then go ahead, darling. Do it.”
I nodded.
By Sunday night, I was exhausted — emotionally, mentally, physically. That Thanksgiving turkey didn’t just leave a bad taste in my mouth. It left cracks in something I thought was solid.
A woman sitting on a porch | Source: Midjourney
The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully trust Jake’s judgment again. Not just in the kitchen but in everything. And as we lay in bed that night, his soft apology didn’t make those doubts disappear.
For now, I’m still here. But I can’t shake the feeling that something shifted this Thanksgiving, and once things crack, it’s hard to piece them back together again.
A couple standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
At Christmas Dinner, My Daughter Stood up and Shouted, ‘And Where’s the Man Mom Keeps in Our Basement?’
Over a family dinner with his wife, daughter, and extended family, Quentin thinks everything will be perfect in the Christmas wonderland his wife has created. But during dinner, Daphne, his daughter, claims there’s a man hidden in their basement. Quentin has no choice but to uncover the truth.
Christmas dinner was supposed to be perfect this year. My wife, Ivy, had spent weeks transforming our home into a holiday wonderland, from garlands framing the doorways to twinkling white lights strung across the windows.
A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Midjourney
Our 8-year-old daughter, Daphne, had helped set the table, her chaotic but charming touch evident in the mismatched napkin folds and slightly tilted name cards.
Both sets of grandparents were with us, this being Ivy’s first Christmas with her stepfather, Patrick. Everyone was laughing, trading stories, and sipping mulled wine. For once, everything felt harmonious.
Until Daphne destroyed it all.
A smiling little girl | Source: Midjourney
I was mid-slice into the turkey, the knife gliding through the golden, crispy skin, when Daphne climbed onto her chair.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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