When Belinda makes a lighthearted remark about skipping her sister-in-law Amy’s strict vegetarian Thanksgiving, her husband Jeremy’s response is anything but humorous. His sudden outburst of anger and the harsh ultimatum about divorce leave her stunned. As tensions rise, Belinda begins to uncover unsettling secrets, revealing a deeper betrayal right before her eyes.
Thanksgiving was meant to be a time for family, but this year, it felt like I was heading into a battle I didn’t expect.
It all began with a text from my sister-in-law, Amy, announcing that she would be hosting Thanksgiving and, as always, it would be a strictly vegetarian feast. This wasn’t a suggestion—it was a decree.
I couldn’t help but laugh as I read her message: “No meat or animal products allowed! Anyone who doesn’t respect the rule will be asked to leave. You won’t even miss the meat once you try my Tofurky roast!”
Yeah, right. I’d eaten enough of her bland, cardboard-like fake meat experiments since she turned vegetarian last year to know what to expect.
I could almost hear her voice in my head as I read it, all self-righteous and sure she was right about everything.
“Can you believe Amy’s Thanksgiving text? Why can’t she just make a lentil curry or something instead of forcing us all to eat that awful fake meat?” I turned to Jeremy, expecting him to laugh with me, but instead, he gave me a look that shut me up instantly.
“It’s just one meal, Belinda,” he said, his voice low and tense. “You can handle it.”
“I know I can,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “I just don’t want to.”
“Why does everything between you and Amy have to be such a big deal?” he asked, running his hand through his hair, avoiding my gaze. “It’s a family holiday, and this is important to her. Can’t you just do something to make her happy for once?”
Something snapped inside me. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to put up with Amy’s controlling ways, but I was tired of always giving in.
“Because it’s not just about the food, and you know it. Amy always forces her way, and it’s not fair.” I crossed my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. “Jeremy, we could just spend Thanksgiving by ourselves this year. Have a nice dinner, watch a movie…”
He looked at me like I’d just suggested something outrageous.
“We’re not skipping Thanksgiving at Amy’s,” he said, his voice hardening. “You’re not being supportive, Belinda.” He paused, his eyes locking onto mine. “If you can’t be there for my family, maybe you shouldn’t be a part of it anymore.”
The words hit me like a slap in the face. “You’re really going to divorce me over one family dinner?” I whispered in disbelief.
“It’s not just dinner,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze. “It’s about supporting each other.”
Supporting each other. Sure. But it always felt like I was second to his sister.
I’d noticed the late-night phone calls, the worried looks when Amy was around. But I couldn’t figure out how to bring it up without sounding like a paranoid wife.
“Fine. We’ll go to Amy’s Thanksgiving,” I said, my voice tight with frustration. It felt like the weight of his expectations was crushing me, pushing me into a storm I didn’t see coming.
The days before Thanksgiving felt like trudging through quicksand, every step heavier than the last. Jeremy seemed distant, like a shadow of the man I once knew. He was gone early, back late, shoulders hunched, preoccupied with something I couldn’t understand.
Then there was the money. It had started to feel like we were scraping by. Jeremy had taken to checking our bank statements more frequently, scrutinizing them like there was something to hide.
At first, I trusted him with our finances—he worked in accounting, after all—but now his obsession with the details set off alarm bells in my head.
One night, unable to shake the feeling that something was off, I pulled up our bank records. Guilt gnawed at me as I scrolled, but I needed answers.
There it was: regular withdrawals labeled “medical expenses.” Different doctors’ names appeared monthly, but one stood out more than the rest.
I googled the name. To my shock, the only person with that name in our area was a psychologist.
My heart skipped. Was Jeremy seeing a therapist? I had to know.
The next evening, I gathered the courage to ask, “Jeremy, are you… are you in therapy?”
His eyes widened, his face twitching in surprise. “Yeah, sometimes,” he said quickly. “It’s been a rough year. Just a lot of stress.”
I knew he was lying. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know how to confront him about it.
Then, a few nights before Thanksgiving, I woke to the sound of his voice in the living room, murmuring softly. I crept to the door and listened, holding my breath.
“I told you I’d handle it,” he said, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry.” There was a long pause before he added, “Goodnight, Amy.”
My blood ran cold. Amy. Of course.
The truth hit me like a freight train. My husband wasn’t just keeping secrets; he was hiding something deep, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to uncover.
The next day, I could no longer stay silent. We sat across from each other, the kitchen heavy with unspoken words.
“Jeremy, I need to know. Why are you so… committed to Amy?”
His face faltered, and I saw something raw flicker in his eyes before he quickly hid it. “What do you mean?” he tried to sound casual, but his clenched fists betrayed him.
“All the secrecy, the money, the late-night phone calls. Are you hiding something from me? Something I need to worry about?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, eyes darting around, clearly trapped. Finally, he sighed and spoke softly.
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me,” I demanded, my voice shaking with frustration. “Whatever it is, I deserve to know.”
For a long, painful moment, he said nothing. Then he spoke, his voice low and reluctant.
“Amy has had a lot of issues. Mental health problems. She has bipolar disorder. It got really bad a few years ago. She was hospitalized for months. When she got out, I was the only one she trusted, so I’ve been there for her, supporting her, making sure she’s okay.”
His words were like a punch to the gut. So this was the burden he’d been carrying, the secret he hadn’t trusted me enough to share.
“What about the money?” I asked, my voice trembling. “It’s all for her, isn’t it?”
He nodded, unable to meet my eyes. “Yes. Therapy, groceries, whatever she needs.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his confession. “So, you’ve been lying to me. About everything.”
“It wasn’t lying, Belinda,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It was… keeping the peace. I didn’t think you needed to know.”
The hurt burned in my chest. “What about us? Keeping this secret has been tearing us apart, Jeremy. You’re so focused on Amy that you’re willing to lose your wife over Thanksgiving dinner.”
He looked at me with a mix of sorrow and regret. “I didn’t know it would come to this.”
“Well, here we are,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside. “And Jeremy, you need to make a choice.”
“Not between Amy and me,” I added quickly. “I would never ask you to abandon your sister. But you need to choose between hiding things and being honest. Between enabling Amy’s behavior and setting boundaries. Between being her caretaker and being my partner.”
He stared at me, his face full of fear and confusion. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “What if setting boundaries makes her worse? What if she can’t handle it?”
“What if she can?” I asked gently. “What if she’s stronger than you think? What if she needs to stand on her own two feet?”
“I don’t know if I can risk losing her.”
I stared at Jeremy, trying to make sense of everything. He was torn, caught between the woman he’d promised to take care of and the woman he’d married. It felt like we were at a crossroads, with no clear way forward.
But one thing was certain: we couldn’t keep living like this. Amy couldn’t keep running our lives. The question now was whether our marriage had a solid enough foundation to survive the truth. And honestly, I wasn’t sure it did.
What should I do now?