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.
Woman Accidentally Hit a Man in the Nose in the Elevator, Only to Discover He Was Her New Boss — Story of the Day
Claire was nervous about her first day at her new job, but getting stuck in the elevator with a stranger and accidentally breaking his nose in a panic made things worse. When they exited the elevator, she discovered that this man was her new boss. A boss known for his reputation as a ruthless tyrant.
Claire walked down a bustling street, her stomach a knot with excitement. Today was her first day at a new job, a job she had long dreamed of. She was starting as a graphic designer at a large company, and it was very exciting for Claire.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She knew she had to make a good impression on the first day and worried about whether she could pull it off.
Claire was naturally very clumsy, so she rarely managed to made a good first impression, but today she was determined to succeed.
Another reason she needed to show her best side was that she had heard rumors that her new boss was very strict and demanding, not tolerating mistakes.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves as she approached the towering office building. It loomed above her, glass reflecting the morning sunlight. With a final deep breath, she mustered up her courage and went inside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The lobby was grand, with sleek modern decor and people hurrying about. Claire felt a bit overwhelmed but kept moving, reminding herself to stay focused. She walked to the elevator, where an attractive man in a suit was already standing.
He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. His sharp suit and confident stance made him look important. Claire pressed the button to call the elevator.
“I already pressed the button; there was no need to press it again,” the man said coldly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, you mean the elevator. I didn’t even think… It’s my first day,” Claire mumbled, stumbling over her words. The man gave her a stern look. “I’m very anxious,” she added.
The elevator doors opened, and the man stepped inside. Claire followed him in. The man pressed the button for the 11th floor and looked at Claire, expecting her to press her floor button.
“Me too, 11,” she said. Claire had checked all the information she had been sent dozens of times that morning. “So, it looks like we’ll be colleagues,” she said.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah,” the man replied.
“I heard the boss is very strict and doesn’t forgive mistakes,” Claire said with a nervous laugh.
“I don’t see anything wrong with that. If you want a successful company, you need to minimize mistakes and the people who make them,” he replied.
“Maybe,” she said, thinking they definitely wouldn’t be friends. “I’m Claire, by the way,” she extended her hand for a shake.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Yes, I—” but the man was cut off as the elevator suddenly stopped.
“What’s happening?” Claire asked in a panic.
“It seems there’s a malfunction; it should start again soon,” the man replied calmly. Just after he said this, the lights in the elevator went out.
“Oh god, no, no, no. Not this! We’re stuck!” Claire began to panic.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Calm down; it should start working again soon.”
Claire started to hyperventilate, pacing back and forth in the elevator.
“What’s happening to you?” the man asked.
“I’m really afraid of confined spaces,” Claire answered.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You were just fine a moment ago.”
“ʼBut the elevator ride only takes a few seconds; I can handle that. Now it’s unclear how long we’ll be stuck here.” Claire couldn’t calm down; she was already on edge, and now this. She collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not ready to die so young!” she cried out.
The man crouched next to her and put his hand on her back. “Calm down; no one is going to die. It’s just an elevator, and you’re not alone,” he said, gently rubbing her back.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Miraculously, this started to help, and Claire slowly began to calm down. Suddenly, the elevator jolted, scaring her, and she accidentally elbowed something.
“We’re falling!” Claire screamed. Suddenly, the lights came back on, and the elevator began to move. Claire turned around and saw she had bloodied the man’s nose.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” she said, standing up from the floor.
The man remained silent, pressing a handkerchief to his nose. The elevator doors opened, and the man immediately stepped out. Claire followed him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Mr. Hemforth! What happened?” a woman cried out. Claire felt her blood run cold. Mr. Hemforth—that was the name of her new boss. Claire had just punched her boss!
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath.
Several days had passed since the elevator incident, and all this time, Claire increasingly felt that Mr. Hemforth hated her.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had seen him somewhere before. His constant disapproval only added to her anxiety.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He hadn’t approved any of her work or ideas, no matter how hard she tried. Claire arrived at work at 7 a.m. and left at 10 p.m., just to finally create something Hemforth would like, but it was all in vain. Her efforts seemed pointless. It seemed he was deliberately rejecting her work.
When other colleagues praised something and said how great Claire was, Hemforth would look at her work and say he’d never seen anything worse in his life. It was like a punch to the gut every time. Claire’s confidence was dwindling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
One day, Claire decided to try again. She walked to his office, her heart pounding. She took a deep breath, mustering the little courage she had left, and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Hemforth’s voice called from inside.
Claire entered, holding her latest design in her hands. “Mr. Hemforth, I’ve made some changes. I hope this meets your expectations,” she said, handing him her work.
“Are you kidding me?” Hemforth said, frowning. “Why are you showing me a draft?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“This is the final version,” Claire replied, her voice shaky.
“You shouldn’t have said that. Redo it,” Hemforth replied, his tone stern.
Claire couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you hate me so much? I’ve apologized several times for hitting you, and it was an accident. Everyone else praises my work. Why haven’t you said anything good?”
“I don’t hate you. I want to teach you,” Hemforth answered calmly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Then you should take teaching courses,” Claire snapped, her frustration boiling over. She turned and left the office, slamming the door behind her.
That evening, the office was empty and dimly lit. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights was the only sound accompanying Claire as she sat at her desk, tirelessly working on the same project over and over again.
Her eyes were strained from staring at the screen for hours, and she rubbed them, trying to focus. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, reminding her that it was already half past ten at night.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Suddenly, Claire heard the familiar sound of the elevator dinging. She glanced up, squinting to see who it could be at this late hour.
The dim lighting made it hard to make out the figure at first. Her heart skipped a beat when the figure stepped out of the shadows, and she realized it was Hemforth.
“Damn it!” Hemforth shouted, his voice echoing in the empty office. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Claire said, her voice small and apologetic.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hemforth took a deep breath and approached her desk. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked, his tone softer now.
“I’m working,” Claire replied, trying to muster a smile. “And you?”
“I forgot my phone,” Hemforth said, shaking his head. “Came back to get it.”
“I see,” Claire said, feeling a bit awkward.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hemforth leaned over to look at her laptop screen. “Why are you doing it this way?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
Claire blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you trying so hard to fit into our mold?” Hemforth asked, looking at her intently.
“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do,” Claire said, her voice uncertain.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Hemforth shook his head. “I hired you because your work stood out. I thought you could bring something new to our company.”
Claire was taken aback. “I… I didn’t know that,” she admitted. She really thought he wanted her to follow the same guidelines as everyone else.
Hemforth sighed and took the mouse from her hand, deleting everything she had been working on. Claire gasped, feeling a pang of panic. “What are you doing? I spent the whole day on that!” she protested.
“I know,” Hemforth said, looking at her with a calm expression. “I’m sorry, but I want you to create something new. Something that’s truly yours, not just what you think we want.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Claire felt her frustration rising. “Well, I guess I’ll be spending the night here,” she said, determined to prove herself.
“No need,” Hemforth said, shaking his head. “Start fresh tomorrow.”
“No,” Claire insisted. “I want to come in with results. You’ll probably fire me anyway.”
Hemforth looked surprised. “Why would I fire you?” he asked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Because I haven’t had a single approved project,” Claire said, feeling the weight of her frustration and exhaustion.
“That’s normal,” Hemforth reassured her. “You’re still learning. You’re the most talented person in this office, maybe even better than me. Just stop limiting yourself.”
Claire stared at him in disbelief. She had never expected to hear such praise from Hemforth. “Really?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Hemforth said firmly. “We haven’t had such a young and talented employee in a long time. The last one was five years ago.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Claire looked at him, puzzled. “You’re not much older than me,” she said.
“I’m talking about myself,” Hemforth explained. “I joined the company only five years ago, and look where I am now. And you’re better than me. If you want, I can help you.”
Claire felt a surge of gratitude. “Thank you, Mr. Hemforth,” she said. “But I’d rather do it myself.”
Hemforth smiled. “Just call me Derek,” he said. “Work hours ended long ago. I’ll be in my office if you need help.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
As Hemforth walked away, Claire felt a newfound determination. She took a deep breath and turned back to her laptop, ready to create something truly her own.
The next few hours, Claire spent working on a new project. She kept Hemforth’s words in mind and let herself be free, not worrying about fitting in. She tried new ideas and different styles, feeling more confident with each stroke.
Finally, Claire sat back and looked at the finished work. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the best thing she had created since starting at the company. A smile spread across her face.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Claire grabbed her laptop and walked to Hemforth’s office. She knocked gently on the door, her heart pounding. When Hemforth looked up, she stepped inside and placed the laptop on his desk, turning it so he could see the screen.
“Take a look,” Claire said, her voice a bit shaky but hopeful.
“See, that’s what I was talking about. Good job,” Hemforth said, his face lighting up with a smile.
“Really?” Claire asked, her eyes wide with surprise. She still couldn’t believe it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” Hemforth said, standing up from his desk. “You can actually do much more than you imagine.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, feeling a mix of relief and pride.
She returned to her desk and started packing her things. Claire walked to the elevator, where Hemforth was already standing, waiting.
“I’m getting flashbacks from our first meeting,” Claire said with a small laugh.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“That wasn’t our first meeting,” Hemforth replied, his expression softening.
“What do you mean?” Claire asked, puzzled.
“Do you remember the graduation party where you cried in the bathroom because your lenses were expired and your eyes were burning?” Hemforth asked, looking at her closely.
“I wasn’t crying; my eyes were just watering. How do you know that?” Claire asked, her mind racing to remember.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I was the one who brought you tissues and lens solution,” Hemforth said, a smile playing on his lips.
“That was you?” Claire said, her eyes widening in recognition. “I thought that was some kind graduate…”
“Yeah, that was me,” Hemforth replied. The elevator doors closed, and they both stepped inside.
“I’ve been looking for you since that day but couldn’t find you. Then I saw your resume for this job,” Hemforth continued, his voice calm but sincere.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You were looking for me?” Claire asked, her heart skipping a beat.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Hemforth admitted.
“Oh,” Claire said, feeling a rush of emotions.
“Sorry, I got carried away,” Hemforth said, looking a bit embarrassed.
“I was going to drop out the next day because I thought I wasn’t good enough,” Claire confessed. “But I stayed because of your words.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s important is not whether you’re worthy of being here, but whether you’re ready to fight for your choice,” they said in unison, both surprised at their shared memory.
“You remember,” Claire said, smiling brightly.
“Of course,” Hemforth said. “I remember every part of that conversation.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Their eyes met, and without thinking, Hemforth leaned in to kiss Claire. She responded, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hemforth pressed a button, and the elevator stopped.
“It’s okay. I’m here,” he said softly, then kissed Claire again.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
Leave a Reply