I never thought I’d be the cause of a Thanksgiving meltdown, but here we are.

It all started two years ago when I met Arnold at work. He was everything I could want in a partner. We hit it off immediately, bonding over our shared love of 90s sitcoms and terrible puns.

Arnold was different from any guy I’d dated before. He listened when I spoke, remembered the little things I mentioned in passing, and always made me feel valued.

Whether it was surprising me with my favorite coffee on a rough Monday morning or holding my hand through a particularly stressful work presentation, he was my rock.

It wasn’t until Arnold introduced me to his family that I realized there was a storm brewing beneath the surface of our seemingly calm relationship waters.

I was super nervous when Arnold drove me to his parents’ house to meet them for the first time. I’d spent hours choosing the perfect outfit and even baked a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies as a peace offering.

But from the moment I walked in, all I heard about was Scarlett this, Scarlett that.

It took me a while to piece together that Scarlett was Arnold’s ex-girlfriend.

Their breakup had shocked everyone, especially Arnold’s mom, Melissa. While Arnold had moved on and started dating me, his family… well, they were stuck in the past.

“Oh, Scarlett was such a pretty girl,” Melissa gushed, barely looking at me. “She knew everything about our family. It was like she’d grown up with us.”

I smiled politely, trying not to show how uncomfortable I felt.

“That’s nice,” I said, searching for something else to add. “I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone too.”

Throughout that first dinner, I heard more about Scarlett than I did about any of Arnold’s family members.

How she always helped with the dishes (as I offered to help and was waved away).

How she made the best apple pie (as my chocolate chip cookies sat untouched on the table).

How she was practically a daughter to them (as I sat there, feeling more and more like an outsider).

At first, I thought maybe Melissa was just having a hard time adjusting. But then she started calling me “Scarlett.”

Not once, not twice, but repeatedly. I corrected her politely the first few times, thinking it was an honest mistake.

“Actually, it’s Jasmine,” I’d say with a smile.

“Oh, right,” Melissa would reply, not sounding sorry at all.

But when she texted me and called me Scarlett in writing, I knew it was deliberate. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

One night, after another family dinner where Melissa had called me Scarlett all evening, I broke down and told Arnold about it.

Arnold’s smile suddenly faded.

“I’ll talk to her,” he said firmly. “This isn’t okay.”

The next day, Arnold confronted his mother. I could hear his raised voice from the other room.

“Mom, you need to get over Scarlett,” he said firmly. “She’s not interested in me anymore. We’re never getting back together. Jasmine is my girlfriend now, and you need to respect that.”

I felt a twinge of guilt.

Was I creating a rift between Arnold and his mother? Maybe I should handle this on my own, I thought.

“Jennifer, could you pass the salt?” she’d ask sweetly.

“It’s Jasmine,” I’d correct her, forcing a smile.

“Oh, right. Jay, how’s work going?”

It was infuriating, but I didn’t want to complain to Arnold again.

I decided to handle it on my own.

I tried killing her with kindness, bringing her favorite flowers and offering to help with chores. I even sat through an entire afternoon looking at old family photos, hoping she’d warm up to me.

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, Melissa hosted a family BBQ in her backyard. I saw it as a chance to bond with the family and agreed to be there.

As we stood around the grill, Arnold’s sister Amy struck up a conversation.

“Arnold tells me you’re quite the cook, Jasmine,” Amy said, smiling. “He was raving about your cooking to my husband the other day.”

I laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh, he might be exaggerating a bit,” I replied. “I just enjoy experimenting in the kitchen.”

“Well,” she said, emphasizing the wrong name, “Why don’t we let Jennifer make the turkey this year? Show us what you can do.”

I felt a flash of annoyance at the wrong name, but I kept my expression neutral.

“Sure,” I said calmly. “That’s a great idea!”

As I agreed, a plan started forming in my mind. If Melissa wanted to play games, I could play too. I spent the next few weeks perfecting my turkey recipe, determined to show Melissa that I was more than capable of filling Scarlett’s shoes.

As we walked in, I could feel the shock ripple through the room.

Melissa’s eyes widened as she looked at our empty hands.

“Where’s the turkey?” she asked.

“Oh, was I supposed to cook it?” I asked sweetly. “I thought you told some ‘Jennifer’ to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I’m Jasmine, remember?”

The room fell silent. I could see Arnold trying to hide a smile beside me.

“Did I?” I replied, keeping my voice calm. “I don’t recall agreeing to that. Maybe you should have asked Jasmine instead of Jennifer.”

“But what are we supposed to eat now?” Amy asked.

I shrugged. “I’m sure Melissa has a backup plan. After all, she’s such an experienced hostess.”

Melissa’s face contorted with anger. “You… you did this on purpose!” she yelled.

“Did what?” I asked innocently. “I’m just following your lead, Melissa. If you can’t remember my name, how can I be expected to remember what you’ve asked me to do?”

“Mom,” he said firmly, “this has gone on long enough. You can’t keep pretending not to know Jasmine’s name. It’s disrespectful and childish.”

Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. “How dare you!” she shouted. “After everything I’ve done for you, Arnold! And you bring this… this woman into our family who ruins Thanksgiving!”

“The only one ruining Thanksgiving is you, Mom,” Arnold replied calmly. “Jasmine is my girlfriend, and she deserves your respect.”

The room erupted into chaos. Melissa was yelling, Amy was crying, and other family members were arguing amongst themselves.

“I’ve tried so hard to fit in with this family,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been nothing but kind and respectful, even when you’ve repeatedly disrespected me by refusing to use my name. I’m not Scarlett, and I’m not trying to be. I’m Jasmine, and I’m the woman your son has chosen to be with.”

Melissa’s face crumpled, a mix of anger and embarrassment washing over her. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice breaking. “Scarlett was like a daughter to me. When she left, it was like losing a child.”

Without a word, Arnold took my hand, and we left.

The next day, Arnold received a text from his mother. He read it aloud to me:

“Arnold, I hope you realize that Jasmine is not the right woman for you. She caused so much yelling and crying at Thanksgiving. Is that really the kind of person you want to be with?”

“Mom,” he typed, “I don’t need your suggestion on who’s right for me. I’m happy with Jasmine, and she’s the one I’m going to stay with. If you can’t respect that, then maybe we need some time apart.”

As he hit send, I felt so relief that I hadn’t felt in months.

At that point, I knew that no matter what happened with his family, we’d face it together.

“I’m sorry it came to this,” I whispered.

Looking back, I don’t regret what I did. Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means ruffling a few feathers. Or in this case, a few turkeys.

And who knows? Maybe next Thanksgiving, Melissa will finally remember my name. But if she doesn’t, at least I know I’ve got a great turkey recipe up my sleeve and a boyfriend who’s willing to stand by me through it all.

In the weeks that followed, Arnold and I focused on our relationship, creating our own traditions and building our own little family.

It’s a work in progress, but I’m slowly starting to hear my own name more often when we visit.

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Stella cherished her life with Zack and their children but repeated bouts of sickness after family dinners raised alarming suspicions. Determined to get to the bottom of it, Stella set a trap that led to a shocking discovery, leaving her questioning everything she knew about her family.

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.

Amanda returned to the quaint house she grew up in after a long day at work. She was tired after a long, exhausting day, and the modest home was her only true sanctuary. It was filled with childhood memories and also reminded her of her deceased mother.

After aging out of the foster care system, she reclaimed this house as her own. It was more than just a building; it was a link to her past and the love she cherished from her mother.

“Oh, I forgot to pick the newspaper,” she said upon seeing a folded newspaper near the doorstep. She picked it up and put it on the kitchen counter before preparing to make herself a refreshing cup of tea.

Once it was ready, Amanda sat at the kitchen table and unfolded the newspaper, expecting to scan through the headlines like always. However, today was different.

As she looked at the photograph, the pain of her father’s long-ago abandonment resurfaced sharply. It reminded her of the time her father broke his promise of always being by his wife’s side. He left his wife when she fell sick and never returned.

The pain and anger buried beneath years of determination had suddenly resurfaced. Amanda touched the silver stud in her ear as she thought of her mother. These were the same studs her mother had gifted her on one of her birthdays.

“Betrayal is nothing new to you,” Amanda whispered to herself as a plan began to take shape in her mind. Seething with hurt and betrayal, she decided to confront her father.

Early the next morning, she approached his house, a well-kept property that starkly contrasted her humble beginnings. She hid behind a large oak tree, waiting for the right moment.

Soon, the front door opened, and her father stepped outside. Behind him was the woman from the newspaper, Carla, who quickly kissed him goodbye.

“Oh God,” Amanda whispered and looked away. She couldn’t stand the sight of her father kissing another woman.

Amanda watched as Robert and Carla got into their respective cars and drove away. Once they left, Amanda stepped out from her hiding place and scanned the exterior of her father’s house. She wanted to find a way to enter the house.

In no time, Amanda found herself inside her father’s bedroom. With deliberate movements, Amanda approached the bed, her hands trembling slightly as she began to disturb the neatly arranged covers.

Then, she removed one earring—a simple piece, yet laden with meaning—and placed it on the bed. It was meant to sow seeds of doubt and discord. She quickly exited the house through the window and waited for the right moment to implement her next move.

“How can I help you?” Carla asked, opening the door.

“I’m here to see Robert. Are you his maid?” Amanda inquired, feigning confusion.

“No, I’m his fiancée,” Carla responded, showing her engagement ring.

“Fiancée? That scoundrel! He told me I was the only one in his life!” Amanda exclaimed.

Carla, puzzled, denied Amanda’s claims. When Robert appeared, he too denied knowing Amanda, but she persisted, “Oh, but you knew me very well a few hours ago, didn’t you?”

Carla, now furious, believed Amanda’s lie.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Amanda said. “I’m just here to take my earring that I lost here. It’s my mother’s and it means a lot to me.”

Robert refused to let her in but Carla allowed her to search for the earring. In no time, Amanda reached the bedroom where she had planted the stud.

“Oh, here it is!” Amanda picked it up from the bed.

“I can’t believe it!” Carla yelled at Robert. “You’re a cheater! How did the earring end up in our bed?”

“What? You can’t be serious!” Robert protested. “She’s a liar!”

“You betrayed me, then lied about it!” Carla accused, deciding to call off their wedding and leave.

Amanda apologized and quickly left the house. She felt satisfied after making her father feel the pain of betrayal.

“Finally!” she thought and heaved a sigh of relief while walking towards her car.

***

A week later, Amanda was wiping tables in the restaurant where she worked when she overheard her colleagues talking about someone’s grand wedding.

“Which wedding are you guys talking about?” she asked them.

“Come on, Amanda!” Stacey, one of Amanda’s coworkers said. “Don’t you keep up with the news? Haven’t you heard of that businessman, Robert something?”

“He got married to this woman, Carla. They spent millions on their wedding. It was huge!” Sarah, another coworker, said.

“What?” Amanda was shocked, but she concealed her emotions. “I mean… who spends millions on a wedding? That’s shocking.”

While Amanda pretended to be bothered by the overspending, she felt like a failure inside. She didn’t want Robert to build a new life after what he had done to his wife and Amanda.

Whenever Amanda got bullied as a child, her mother would say these words. She always encouraged Amanda to forgive the people who hurt her.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Amanda reflected on her actions. Soon, she realized causing harm or ruining her father’s relationship wasn’t the answer to her resentment. She needed to confront him.

***

Later that week, Amanda stood outside Robert’s house, no longer fueled by anger, but by a newfound curiosity. Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell.

“Why are you here again?” Carla opened the door.

“What?” Carla’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is this a joke or what?”

“It’s not. I—”

“Who’s there, Carla?” Robert asked his wife before coming to the door.

“Why are you here again? Leave us alone, please!” Robert yelled at Amanda.

“Dad… It’s me,” Amanda said. “I came here to—”

“Amanda? Is it really you?”

Tears welled up in Amanda’s eyes. “Yes, Dad. It’s me.” Her voice choked with emotion. “I just… I needed to know why you left. Why you left Mom and me.”

“Come in, Amanda. Come inside.” He ushered her into the house, Carla still lingering awkwardly at the doorway.

Once inside, Amanda sat down, clutching the silver earring tightly in her hand.

“Mom got so sick after you left,” she began, her voice barely a whisper. “We struggled a lot. Then the foster care took me after her death. It wasn’t easy…”

Robert hung his head, his hands clenching and unclenching.

“I… I didn’t know things were that bad,” he muttered. “I thought you were well cared for after…”

“Who did you think would have cared for us? We had no one. We needed you the most, Dad. Mom needed you!” Amanda said.

The weight of their shared history pressed down on them. Amanda spoke of the anger and confusion she carried for years, the bitterness that festered inside her. She confessed her earlier plan, wanting to destroy his new relationship out of a twisted sense of revenge.

As Amanda poured out her heart, Robert listened intently. Shame and regret etched lines on his face.

“I understand your anger, Amanda,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “There’s no excuse for what I did. It was a cowardly thing to run away.”

He took a deep breath and began his own story. He spoke of the crushing guilt he felt after leaving his wife, Amanda’s mother, to deal with her illness alone.

He revealed a period of self-destruction, poor choices, and financial struggles. Building his business back up had taken years of relentless work. Shame had prevented him from returning, a twisted logic that only deepened his isolation.

“I never meant to abandon you both,” he said, his eyes filled with tears. “Every day, I regretted my decision. But by the time I could have returned, I was afraid. Afraid of the rejection, afraid of seeing you both in pain. Please forgive me, Amanda. Please.”

The enormity of his regret hit Amanda. His story wasn’t one of a villain, but a flawed man crippled by fear and guilt. The anger that had consumed her began to recede, replaced by a flicker of understanding.

“I guess I forgive you, Dad,” she said, the words surprising even her. “It doesn’t erase what happened, but I can’t carry this anger anymore. It’s a heavy burden.”

Relief washed over Robert’s face. He reached out and grasped her hand, the warmth of the contact a bridge across the years of separation.

“Thank you, Amanda,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Claire and her neighbor Emily were best friends until one day, Claire found photographs of her father in Emily’s drawer. Emily assures Claire that the photos mean nothing, but Claire notices how Emily and her father are hugging. After this intimate scene, Claire takes hasty actions to separate her father and Emily. Read the full story here.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.