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.
I Found Gold Jewelry on My Doorstep Every Day — When I Discovered Who Was Leaving It, I Was Stunned
When Katie stumbled across a gold necklace on her doorstep one day, she thought a neighbor might have accidentally dropped it. However, upon further investigation, she realized an unknown woman was intentionally leaving jewelry at her doorstep. What she found next turned her life upside down.
My friend once told me someone had been leaving flowers on her doorstep, and she later found out it was one of her secret admirers. They later ended up dating each other. Cute, right?
But what I experienced wasn’t anything cute. Instead, it led me to a world of deceit I never knew existed.
It all started about a month ago when I was leaving for work. It was around 8 a.m., and my husband, Matt, had already left.
I picked up my bag, grabbed the car keys, and had just opened the front door when my gaze landed on a shiny gold necklace sitting right beside our welcome mat.
I immediately placed my bag on the floor and knelt to examine it closely.
“What the…” I muttered as I picked up the necklace. Its weight and texture confirmed it was REAL GOLD!
I looked around for a note or something that could explain how it ended up there, but I found nothing.
That’s strange, I thought. That’s super strange.
I quickly slid the necklace into my bag and left for work because it was already getting late.
Later that evening, I pulled the necklace out of my bag and placed it on the kitchen table. I was certain it belonged to one of our neighbors because I couldn’t find any other logical explanation for its sudden appearance.
So, I took a clear photo of it and uploaded it to our neighborhood Facebook group. I wrote, Hey, found a necklace on my doorstep, anyone missing it?
I thought I’d wake up to a few message requests on Facebook from people claiming the necklace. I even planned to ask for proof of purchase to ensure I gave it to the rightful owner. But that never happened.
I woke up to zero message requests and a few kind comments from Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jonathan saying they’d pray the owner finds it soon. Nothing else.
So, I just kept the necklace in my jewelry box and went on with my life, hoping to give it back to its rightful owner one day. I had no idea the person who bought the jewelry was someone I knew very well.
The following day, I was leaving for work as usual when I stumbled across another piece of jewelry on my doorstep. Gold earrings.
However, this time, I felt scared. What was going on? Was it a prank? Was someone watching me? Was this the beginning of something sinister?
I walked toward the street and looked around to see if someone was there, but I couldn’t find anyone.
What am I supposed to do now? I thought as I picked up the earrings and put them on the kitchen counter. I had no idea what to do with them.
The following day, I found a gold ring on the mat. The next day, another ring. And then a diamond-studded brooch. I was so occupied with work during those days that I didn’t get the time to investigate this properly.
Then, on Friday night, I told Matt about it.
“I have no idea who’s leaving the jewelry on our doorstep but we need to do something about it,” I said. “It’s so creepy!”
“Oh, c’mon Katie,” he said, still glued to his phone. “Doesn’t sound like it’s something bad. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer.”
He laughed it off like it was a joke, but I was sure something was off. This wasn’t normal.
So, I decided to install a camera on our doorstep hoping to catch the generous person leaving gold jewelry on our doorstep. I was shocked when I saw the footage a few days later.
It was around 5 a.m. when a woman, dressed in a black shirt and a matching cap, appeared on our doorstep with a gold necklace in her hand. The footage showed how she looked left and right before quietly placing the necklace on our mat.
Then, she walked away like nothing had happened.
I couldn’t believe it. Why would a woman leave jewelry on our doorstep? Who was she?
Curious, I decided to wake up early the next morning. I quickly made myself a cup of coffee and sat by the window, waiting for the woman to appear at our doorstep. Sure enough, just as the sun started rising, I saw this mysterious woman tiptoeing across our driveway with another piece of jewelry in her hand.
I opened the door right when she placed it on the mat.
“Hey! Stop!” I shouted before she could walk away.
She froze and stared at me with eyes wide open.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” she said, dropping the bracelet on the ground as she raised her hands.
“Who are you?” I demanded. “And why are you leaving all this jewelry on my doorstep?”
She looked at the bracelet on the ground before her gaze landed on me again. This time, I could see a slight disappointment on her face, like I had said something she wasn’t expecting.
“You had to know the truth no matter how horrible it is,” she began, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. “I’m Tara, and I have been dating your husband, Matt. I had no idea he was married.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. I couldn’t believe the man I loved the most was cheating on me. I had heard of cheating stories, but I never thought it would happen to me.
“I’m so sorry,” she continued. “I had no idea he was married until I saw your picture on his phone last week. He told me he was single. I swear I didn’t know.”
I could feel a cloud of anger rising within my chest. I was angry, but not at her. I knew she was as clueless as me.
It was Matt who had betrayed me.
“So, what’s with the jewelry?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
Tara took a deep breath and leaned against the wall.
“This is all the jewelry he gave me,” she began. “I couldn’t keep it, so I decided to drop it here because it belonged to him. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I should’ve been furious, but instead, I was impressed by this woman. She returned the jewelry without creating a scene despite Matt’s manipulation.
I sensed she wanted revenge, so I devised a plan that would benefit us both.
“I have an idea,” I whispered. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“What is it?” she asked.
That’s when I told her the plan and she agreed to execute it with me.
Later that night, I wore the bracelet Tara had dropped that day, but Matt didn’t notice or recognize it. Then, as Matt began to get ready for bed, I went to the living room and sent him a message from an unknown number, pretending to be Tara.
I wrote, Hey, I miss you. Can we meet tomorrow?
As expected, he took the bait and replied, Sure. Same place as always?
The trap was set.
The next day, Tara and I went to the restaurant where Matt thought he was meeting his lover. We picked a table at the back of the restaurant, ensuring it was hidden from the entrance. After a few minutes of waiting, I saw Matt entering the place with a smile.
He scanned the room for Tara, and his face lit up when he saw her approaching. But his smile vanished when he noticed me walking behind her.
“Surprise!” I exclaimed sarcastically.
“What’s happening?” he asked with wide eyes.
“Oh, I was just having lunch with your wife,” Tara smiled. “You never told me about her, did you?”
“I… I… uhh,” Matt stammered. “This isn’t what it looks like, Katie. Let me explain, please.”
“Explain what?” I snapped. “That you’ve been cheating on me for months, giving away jewelry like it’s candy, and lying to both of us?”
“No, I—”
“Don’t bother, Matt,” I cut him off. “We’re done. The jewelry you thought my secret admirer was leaving? That was from Tara. Did you really think you’d never get caught?”
Matt was speechless. I can never forget the look on his face.
“Oh, and one more thing. Here’s your engagement ring,” she said as she threw the ring at him. “Turns out, I’m not the only one who’s done with you.”
At that point, the entire restaurant was staring at Matt, and it looked like he wanted the earth to tear apart and swallow him. As planned, Tara and I walked out of the restaurant, leaving Matt to suffer in shame.
And that was the last time I saw my ex-husband, Matt. I immediately filed for divorce after the confrontation, and soon, I was free as a bird. I didn’t have to worry about a man cheating behind my back.
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