When my husband Mike tossed a measly $20 bill at me and told me to cook Thanksgiving dinner for his family, I knew it was time to make a change. For two years, I had been bending over backward trying to please Mike and his family—cooking, cleaning, doing everything I could to make them happy. But no matter what I did, it felt like they just expected more and more from me, like I was their unpaid maid and chef.
Mike thought he could get away with his lazy behavior, but this Thanksgiving was going to be different. It was time to show him, and his family, just how much I had been underestimated.
When Mike and I got married, I truly believed I’d found my forever partner. At first, everything seemed perfect, but as time passed, things started to change. At first, it was the little things—Mike would leave his dirty laundry everywhere, and he expected me to handle the grocery shopping. But then, his parents, Maureen and Richard, started treating me like I was there to cook and clean for them.
Maureen would always make snide comments when they visited. “A wife who cooks every night is a blessing,” she’d say, as if that was all I was good for.
Richard, on the other hand, joked constantly about how I should open a catering business, since I was already “running one for free.” It was exhausting, but I kept my mouth shut, trying to keep the peace, trying to make everyone happy.
The breaking point came a few weeks ago when Maureen called, announcing that she and Richard would be “dropping by for dinner.” I laughed when I heard that—“dropping by” actually meant hours of them criticizing my cooking.
When I suggested ordering takeout, Maureen gasped. “Takeout? For family? Oh no, Alyssa. You’ve set the bar too high now.” Meanwhile, Mike just shrugged and said, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”
Why didn’t I speak up? Why didn’t I tell them to cook for themselves? The truth was, I didn’t want to cause drama. I wanted to keep Mike happy. But the love I had for him was fading fast. It was becoming clearer that I wasn’t just his wife—I was his personal maid and chef.
So, this Thanksgiving, I knew things had to change.
Mike and I decided to invite his parents and two brothers for Thanksgiving. It was going to be a small gathering, but even that meant a mountain of expectations for me. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Mike decided to take his laziness to a whole new level.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, going over our budget. Money had been tight lately, and I had been quietly setting aside whatever I could, knowing that Mike didn’t exactly manage his spending well.
Without a care, Mike slid the last $20 bill we had across the table and said with a grin, “Here, make Thanksgiving dinner with this.”
I stared at him, shocked. “Mike, $20? That won’t even cover a turkey,” I said.
“Mom always managed to make amazing dinners with no money. Figure it out,” he said, leaning back in his chair like it was no big deal. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my family.”
I couldn’t believe it. I had been pouring my heart into this marriage for two years, and he thought I could make a Thanksgiving feast for his family with a single twenty-dollar bill.
But as he walked away, oblivious, something inside me snapped. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t going to yell. This time, I was going to plan.
For the next few days, I kept my anger hidden behind a calm smile. Every time Mike asked if I had “figured out Thanksgiving,” I assured him everything would be fine. He even bragged to his brothers about how “resourceful” I was, thinking I’d somehow manage to make Thanksgiving work on $20. Little did he know, I was already working on a plan.
I never touched that $20 bill. Instead, I dipped into my savings—the money Mike didn’t even know about, because he always assumed I didn’t need my own funds. I wasn’t just planning a dinner; I was planning a statement.
I ordered a catered Thanksgiving feast from the best place in town: roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, fresh rolls, three types of pie, and fancy cranberry sauce. I also bought beautiful table decorations, because if I was going out, I was going out in style.
The night before Thanksgiving, as I set everything up, Mike walked into the kitchen with his usual smug grin. “I knew you’d pull it off,” he said. “You’re lucky to have a husband who believes in you.”
Lucky? I almost laughed. He honestly thought he was doing me a favor by tossing me a few crumbs of validation. Instead of arguing, I just smiled and said, “You’ll see tomorrow.”
On Thanksgiving morning, the house looked like something out of a holiday magazine. The table was set with gold chargers, matching napkins, and the air smelled like roasted turkey. Mike didn’t notice the takeout containers neatly hidden in the trash bin. He was too busy imagining how his family would praise him for having such a “wonderful wife.”
When his family arrived, the stage was set.
“You guys are in for a treat,” Mike told them.
Maureen, always the critic, scanned the room like she was inspecting a hotel.
“Hmmm, you missed a spot on that shelf,” she muttered, pointing to a clean surface.
I smiled politely. “I’ll make a note for next time.”
Then Richard patted Mike on the back. “You picked a good one, son,” he said, glancing around. “Alyssa’s a keeper.”
“Yeah, she’s great,” Mike said, lounging on the couch like he was the king of the castle. “I gave her a tight budget, and she still managed to pull this off. Can’t wait for you to taste it.”
Tight budget? I thought. Is that what you call $20?
I wanted to confront him right there, but I held my tongue and waited for the right moment. Finally, dinner was served. As everyone piled their plates high, the compliments started rolling in.
“This turkey is so moist,” one of his brothers said.
“The cranberry sauce tastes like it’s homemade,” Maureen added, her usual condescension replaced by genuine admiration.
Mike raised his glass. “To Alyssa, the best cook in the family!”
I took a deep breath and stood, holding my glass. “Thank you, Mike. That means a lot. But before we dig in, I’d like to say a few words.”
Everyone fell silent and turned to me. My gaze shifted from Maureen to Richard and then to Mike.
“This year, I wanted to make Thanksgiving truly special,” I began. “Mike gave me a generous $20 budget, so I had to get a little creative.”
Maureen’s fork froze mid-air. Richard glanced at Mike, who shifted in his seat. The brothers exchanged looks, stunned by what they were hearing. They couldn’t believe Mike had expected me to prepare such a feast on just twenty bucks.
“But you know,” I continued, “while planning this dinner, I realized something important. It’s not just about the food or decorations. It’s about effort, about respect. And that’s when it hit me—I’ve been doing this all alone for two years.”
Mike cleared his throat. “Honey, maybe now’s not the time—”
“Oh, I think it’s the perfect time,” I said, cutting him off. “Because while I’ve been cooking, cleaning, and making this house look perfect for you and your family, I realized I deserve more. I deserve more than being treated like a maid or a personal chef.”
Maureen’s face turned bright red. “Alyssa, we’ve always appreciated you—”
“Have you?” I asked, my voice calm but strong. “Because it doesn’t feel like it when you criticize everything I do or expect me to cater to you like it’s my job.”
That’s when Mike stood up, looking furious. “Alyssa, you’re blowing this out of proportion! Everyone’s enjoying the meal. Let’s not ruin the holiday, please.”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, don’t worry, Mike. The meal won’t be ruined. But before we continue, I should mention one more thing. This dinner? It’s takeout from the fancy catering place you said we couldn’t afford.”
I could barely contain my laughter as Maureen and Richard looked down at their plates, shocked. “You used catering?” Maureen sputtered.
“Yes,” I said. “Because after everything I’ve done for this family, I figured I deserved a break. And you know what? It was worth every penny.”
I turned to Mike. “And just so you know, this is the last Thanksgiving dinner I’ll ever make for your family. You can figure out next year’s meal on your own. Maybe Maureen can teach you her magic. She can tell you how she manages to cook meals with no money!”
With that, I grabbed my purse and walked out, leaving behind a table of stunned faces.
The cold November air hit my face as I slammed the door shut. I felt lighter than I had in years. I had finally stood up for myself.
I drove to the park, where I used to go before I got married. I parked my car and poured myself a glass of wine, sipping it from the thermos lid. A solo Thanksgiving had never felt so liberating.
Meanwhile, my phone buzzed nonstop with messages and calls from Mike. I ignored them at first, but curiosity got the best of me. His messages ranged from anger to desperation.
“What the hell, Alyssa? You embarrassed me in front of my
family!”
“Come back, and we’ll talk. You’re overreacting.”
“You don’t have to do this. Let’s fix it.”
Fix it? The irony made me laugh. I had spent two years fixing things for Mike, his meals, his messes, and his family’s expectations. And now, he wanted to fix me?
By the time I returned home that night, the house was quiet and dark. The table was still set, the plates half-empty, and the catered turkey sat untouched. It was clear Mike and his family had left in a hurry, probably too stunned to say anything.
The next day, Mike cornered me in the kitchen. “You can’t just walk out like that, Alyssa!” he protested. “You made me look like a fool.”
“Did I?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Or did you make yourself look like a fool by treating me like I wasn’t worth more than $20?”
His face turned red, but he didn’t argue.
Instead, he muttered something about how his parents had been “too hard” on me. It wasn’t much, but it was the closest thing to an apology I’d ever get from him.
A week later, I served Mike divorce papers. He looked at me like I had just told him the world was ending.
“You’re serious?” he asked, shocked.
“Dead serious,” I replied. “Because I finally realized I deserve better.”
And I did.
In the weeks that followed, I felt lighter than I had in years. Mike moved out, and the house, once filled with tension and unmet expectations, became peaceful. I decorated for Christmas, treating myself to a tree full of ornaments I loved.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t dreading the holidays. I was actually looking forward to them. This time, they were mine—and no one else’s.
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