Thanksgiving is supposed to be a time for family and gratitude, but this year, it felt more like the prelude to a war I didn’t sign up for. What started as a simple disagreement over attending my sister-in-law Amy’s vegetarian Thanksgiving escalated into my husband, Jeremy, threatening divorce. In the days that followed, I discovered secrets that unraveled everything I thought I knew about our marriage.
It all began with a text from Amy. She announced she’d be hosting Thanksgiving this year and made it clear the menu would be strictly vegetarian. “No meat or animal products allowed!” her message read. “Anyone who doesn’t respect this rule will be kicked out. Trust me, you won’t even miss them once you try my Tofurky roast!” I laughed at the message, already dreading her infamous faux-meat experiments. But when I shared the text with Jeremy, expecting him to laugh along, his reaction stunned me.
“It’s just one meal, Belinda,” he said, his voice unusually tense. “You can handle it.”
“I know I can handle it,” I replied. “I just don’t want to. Why should we all cater to Amy’s rules every single time?”
Jeremy’s face hardened. “Why does everything between you and Amy have to be such a big deal? It’s important to her. Can’t you just do this to make her happy?”
His words stung, and something in me snapped. I was tired of constantly bending to Amy’s whims. “This isn’t about food,” I said. “It’s about Amy always steamrolling everyone’s plans. Can’t we just spend Thanksgiving on our own this year? A quiet dinner, a movie—just us?”
His response felt like a punch to the gut. “If you can’t be there for my family, maybe you shouldn’t be part of it anymore.”
Divorce. He was threatening divorce over Thanksgiving dinner. “You’d really end our marriage over this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“It’s not just dinner,” he muttered. “It’s about supporting each other.”
But the support he expected only seemed to go one way, always prioritizing Amy. And while I bit my tongue to keep from accusing him outright, I couldn’t ignore the signs that his relationship with his sister went beyond typical sibling concern. The late-night calls, the anxious glances when she was around—something was off.
@threadtalkpodcast AITA for not going to Vegan Thanksgiving? #reddit #aita #tifu #redditstory #redditstories #threadtalk #threadtalkpodcast #podcast #redditreadings ♬ original sound – ThreadTalk Podcast
I agreed to attend Amy’s Thanksgiving, but the bitterness of that decision lingered. Jeremy’s behavior in the days leading up to the holiday only deepened my unease. He grew more distant, often leaving early and returning late. He’d become obsessed with our finances, poring over bank statements with a furrowed brow.
When we first married, Jeremy insisted on managing our money since he worked in accounting. I hadn’t thought much of it then, but now, his sudden preoccupation with our accounts raised red flags. One evening, unable to shake my suspicions, I checked our joint account. Small, regular withdrawals labeled “medical expenses” caught my attention. A quick online search revealed the doctor’s name belonged to a psychologist.
The discovery left me reeling. Was Jeremy in therapy? Why hadn’t he told me? The next night, I worked up the courage to confront him. “Jeremy, are you… seeing a therapist?” I asked cautiously.
His response was hurried and unconvincing. “Yeah, sometimes,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “It’s just been a stressful year.”
His lie was obvious, and it left me feeling betrayed. But the real blow came a few nights later when I overheard him on the phone.
“I told you I’d handle it,” he whispered, his voice tender in a way that sent chills down my spine. “Don’t worry… Goodnight, Amy.”
Amy. Of course, it was Amy.
The next morning, I confronted him. “Jeremy, what’s going on between you and Amy? The late-night calls, the money—what are you hiding?”
Trapped, Jeremy finally confessed. “Amy has bipolar disorder. A few years ago, it was really bad. She was hospitalized for months, and when she got out, I was the only one she trusted. I’ve been helping her ever since.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave. He admitted the withdrawals were to cover Amy’s therapy and other expenses. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I didn’t think you needed to know,” he said. “I wanted to protect her.”
“Protect her?” I snapped. “You’ve been lying to me our entire marriage. You’re so focused on Amy that you’re willing to destroy us over Thanksgiving dinner.”
He looked at me, regret etched across his face. “I didn’t know it would come to this,” he whispered.
“Well, it has,” I replied. “And now you have a choice to make—not between Amy and me, but between hiding the truth and being honest. Between enabling her behavior and setting boundaries. Between being her caretaker and being my partner.”
Jeremy hesitated, fear in his eyes. “What if setting boundaries makes her worse?” he asked.
“What if it doesn’t?” I countered. “What if she’s stronger than you think?”
His silence spoke volumes, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure if our marriage could survive. Amy couldn’t keep controlling our lives, but Jeremy’s fear of confronting her might make real change impossible. As Thanksgiving loomed, I couldn’t help but wonder: could I keep fighting for a marriage built on so many lies? Or was it time to walk away?