Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn’t be visiting. “I won’t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!” her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.
The end of autumn and the beginning of winter had always been my favorite time of year.
Сrisp air carried the smell of woodsmoke, and the golden leaves gave way to the first frost.
It was the season when my family would gather, no matter what, to share holiday dinners and exchange thoughtful gifts.
Those gatherings were the heart of my childhood, moments of warmth and laughter that felt like nothing else in the world.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But since marrying Peter, those moments had become memories. Each year, I found myself on the phone, explaining to my parents why I couldn’t make it.
Why, once again, I’d be spending the holidays with Peter’s family instead of my own.
My mom would try to sound understanding, but I knew it hurt her. It hurt me too.
This year, though, things were going to be different. For the first time, Peter had agreed to spend Thanksgiving with my parents.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
It had taken weeks of discussion—if you could call the arguments discussions—but he finally relented.
And now, here we were, strolling through the grocery store, picking out a bottle of wine for my mom, a new roasting pan for my dad, and the ingredients for the pumpkin pie I wanted to bake.
I clutched a small bundle of festive napkins with turkeys printed on them and held them up for Peter’s opinion.
He shrugged. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and it had been simmering all day.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Are you okay, love?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yeah. Couldn’t be better,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
I sighed.
“Are you still upset about going to my parents’ house?”
He stopped walking and turned to me, his face tight with frustration. “Of course, I’m upset! Why should I skip my family’s holiday for your whims?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“My whims?” I said, my voice rising despite myself. “I’ve done this for you every single year since we started dating, Peter. Every. Year.”
“Oh, here we go,” he said with a bitter laugh. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? You didn’t like this, you didn’t like that. What about me? Why don’t you care if I’m happy?”
“Peter,” I said slowly, keeping my voice as steady as possible, “we’ve already talked about this. I just want one season with my parents. If that’s too much for you, maybe we should celebrate separately.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His eyebrows shot up.
“Season? Are you saying you’re skipping Christmas with my family too?”
“Yes,” I replied firmly, though my stomach churned.
“This year, I’m spending the holidays with my parents.”
He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound.
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“Fine. Then you can explain that to my parents.”
“I will,” I said, keeping my tone quiet and even.
I felt wrung out, as if every ounce of energy had been drained by this conversation. I just wanted it to be over.
We stood in the aisle for a moment, the silence between us louder than the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead.
He grabbed the cart handle and pushed it forward without another word.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I followed, clutching the napkins to my chest, trying to hold on to the excitement that had felt so real just hours ago.
The tension hung heavy in the car as we neared my parents’ house.
Peter gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a way that warned me not to push too hard. But I couldn’t let it go entirely.
“Peter,” I started softly, “please, just be kind to my parents. They’re excited to see us, and they’re nervous about making a good impression.”
He let out a sharp laugh.
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“Oh, great! Now you’re giving me instructions? Should I juggle for them too? Or maybe do a little dance?”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “I’m not asking for much. I just want this to go well.”
“Well,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly, “maybe you should’ve just invited them to join us at my family’s house. Wouldn’t that have been easier?”
I shook my head, exasperated. “Peter, they’re old. Traveling for the holidays isn’t easy for them.”
“Great. Just perfect!” he muttered, throwing one hand up dramatically before gripping the wheel again.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The rest of the drive was silent except for the hum of the engine.
I focused on the frosty trees lining the road, trying to calm the knot in my stomach.
When we arrived, I forced a smile and rang the doorbell.
My mom, Charlotte, opened the door almost immediately, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around us.
“I’m so happy to see you! Finally, you’re here!” she exclaimed, her warmth like a balm to my nerves.
Behind her, my dad, Kevin, offered a small, reserved smile, his usual quiet presence grounding the moment.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Peter muttered a half-hearted “hello” and walked inside without eye contact.
I gave my mom an apologetic look, silently willing her to understand. Then, with a deep breath, I followed him into the house.
Inside the warm glow of the house, my mom and I moved around the dining room, setting the table with care.
The soft clatter of plates and the occasional hum of her voice filled the space as we arranged the dishes.
In the living room, Peter sat stiffly on the couch, his arms crossed, while my dad quietly flipped through a magazine beside him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mom glanced toward Peter, her movements slowing. “Is Peter okay?” she asked softly. “He seems… upset.”
I hesitated, trying to find the right words.
“He’s just… frustrated, I think,” I said finally, keeping my voice low. “He wishes we were spending the holiday with his family.”
Her hands paused mid-air, holding a serving spoon. “Oh,” she said, her tone tinged with confusion and sadness. “Did we do something wrong?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“No, Mom,” I said quickly. “It’s not you. It’s just—” I stopped, unsure how to explain the unspoken tension between Peter and me. “It’s complicated.”
She looked at me, her brows drawn together.
“We’re not family to him?” she asked quietly, almost to herself.
Her words hit me like a cold wind. I didn’t know how to respond.
Was that how Peter saw it? My family, my parents—were they nothing to him? The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. For Peter’s mood? For his indifference? For years I’d put my family on hold for his?
Mom placed a hand on my arm, her touch warm and steady.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart,” she said gently.
But her eyes still held a shadow of hurt, and it lingered in the air as we finished setting the table in silence.
The table was set beautifully, with crisp white linens, shining silverware, and the aroma of roasted turkey filling the room.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My mom, Charlotte, stood back to admire her work before clapping her hands.
“Everything’s ready! Come and eat!” she said with cheerful warmth, her voice echoing into the quiet living room.
We all gathered around the table. My dad, Kevin, pulled out my mom’s chair for her, and I couldn’t help but smile at his small gesture of old-fashioned chivalry.
Peter followed sluggishly, barely making an effort to engage, and slumped into his seat with a sigh.
The meal began, but the air was tense like a storm waiting to break. My mom tried valiantly to spark a conversation.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“So, Peter,” she started brightly, “how’s work going? Busy this time of year?”
He gave a noncommittal grunt, stabbing a piece of turkey with his fork.
“Dad’s been working on the deck in the backyard,” I chimed in, trying to fill the silence. “It’s really coming together.”
My dad nodded. “It’s slow, but it keeps me busy. Maybe you could come by and give me some tips, Peter.”
Peter didn’t even look up. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, flicking a crumb off the table.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Peter,” I said softly, leaning toward him, “what’s wrong? Can I help?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter and leaned back in his chair. “Everything’s wrong!” he snapped, his voice loud enough to make my mom flinch.
“How is this even Thanksgiving without my mom’s chocolate pudding?”
“Pudding?” my mom echoed, her voice unsure, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her glass of water.
“It’s fine,” I interjected quickly, trying to calm the situation. “His mom always makes it for him. It’s no big deal.”
Peter scoffed, his eyes blazing. “No big deal? Of course! Because nothing I want ever matters. It’s always about Sarah, isn’t it? What Sarah wants. What Sarah needs.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Peter, please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “This is supposed to be a happy day.”
He pushed his chair back, the chair’s legs screeching against the floor. “Listen, I’m done! We’re leaving. Get your coat, Sarah!”
“NO, YOU LISTEN!” my dad shouted after Peter, jumping up from his chair. But Peter just ignored him and walked right past! I saw my dad clutch his chest.
The weight of the moment pressed on me as I stood slowly. My mom’s eyes brimmed with tears.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, Mom,” I said, my throat tightening. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.”
I walked to the doorway, where Peter stood waiting, arms crossed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Put your coat on! We’re leaving!” he barked.
“No,” I said, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. “You’re leaving. I’m staying.”
“What? You’re my wife. You’re supposed to listen to me!”
I took a deep breath, meeting his glare.
“You don’t respect my parents, you don’t respect me, and behaving like this, you don’t even respect yourself. I’ve put up with your selfishness for years, hoping the loving man I married was still there. But now, I don’t believe he is.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You want to talk about respect?” he sputtered, disbelief written all over his face.
“Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “Leave, Peter. It’s over.”
His mouth opened, but no words came. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
I returned to the dining room, my heart pounding, and found my parents sitting quietly, their faces a mixture of sadness and concern.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Mom. Dad,” I said, my voice soft but resolute.
“I let this go on for too long. But not anymore.”
Charlotte stood and wrapped me in a warm hug. “You’re home now. That’s all that matters,” she whispered.
For the first time in years, I felt free. I had chosen the family that truly mattered and wouldn’t trade them for anything.
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I Overheard My Husband Bragging About His ‘Ugly’ Wife – His Payback Was Worse than He Could Have Imagined
When Sarah gets home from the usual errands with her kids, the last thing she expects is to hear her husband spilling his true feelings about her — that she is just a means to an end in his life. But Sarah isn’t about to let Ethan get away with his callous behavior. Instead, she decides to teach him a lesson.
They say marriage is built on love, trust, and respect. I thought I had all three with Ethan. For seven years, we shared a home, two kids, and what I thought was a good life.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
Sure, there were the rough patches that popped up every now and again. But honestly, what marriage doesn’t have those? We always found our way back to each other. Or so I thought.
Then, last week happened.
It started like any other day. I picked up the kids, juggling their boundless energy with the chaos of school bags and snack wrappers. When we got home, I sent them upstairs to play and headed inside to get a moment of peace before dinner prep began.
Two kids in their school uniform | Source: Midjourney
That’s when I heard it. Ethan’s voice, clear as day, drifting out of the living room.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. He had a couple of his coworkers over, so I figured they were just chatting. But as I walked closer, I caught a snippet of his conversation.
“Take a page from my book, guys,” Ethan said, his tone dripping with confidence. “I got it all figured out. I took the ugly wife for the housework and raising the kids, and I take the pretty ones on vacation. I know what I’m doing!”
A man sitting on a couch and holding a can | Source: Midjourney
I froze.
My breath hitched, and I felt the grocery bag slip from my hand. My heart pounded, and the blood rushed to my ears as my husband kept talking, oblivious to my presence.
“I mean, come on. Sarah doesn’t even realize it. She thinks I’m some kind of saint. Meanwhile, I’ve got the house, the car, and everything handed to me on a silver platter. And the best part? She’s just happy to keep everything running while I have my fun.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt sick.
My husband, the man I’d trusted with my life, was bragging about how he was using me.
To his friends.
I clutched the stair railing, struggling to stay upright.
A woman standing by a staircase | Source: Midjourney
“Wow, Ethan,” one of his coworkers said, laughing nervously. “You’re, uh, really living the dream.”
“I know, right?” Ethan replied, his voice full of disgustingly smug pride. “It’s all about playing your cards right. It’s easy, guys. I’ll coach you. Ugly wife in the left hand, pretty wife in the right.”
The word “ugly” kept ringing in my ears, like a cruel echo.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to scream, to storm into the room and demand answers. But I didn’t. Instead, I stepped back quietly and slipped upstairs, ready to get into the shower and wash away the slimy feeling that had taken over me.
That night, Ethan acted like nothing had happened. He came into the kitchen and helped me cook the salmon and broccoli, a dish that the kids loved. He even kissed me on the cheek, asked about my day, and helped put the kids to bed.
It was almost comical how oblivious he was to the storm brewing inside me.
A tray of food | Source: Midjourney
“You okay?” he asked later when I was making mugs of hot chocolate for the kids. Finally, he seemed to realize that I was quieter than usual.
I forced a smile.
“Just tired. It’s been a long day,” I said.
“Well, don’t overdo it,” he said, patting my shoulder like he was doing me a favor.
Two mugs of hot chocolate | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, biting back the urge to scream.
The next morning, I got up early, my mind racing. Ethan left for work with his usual kiss on the cheek, and I plastered on a smile as he walked out the door.
As soon as he was gone, I started planning. I wasn’t just angry. I was determined.
A man wearing a suit | Source: Midjourney
By mid-afternoon, I had everything I needed: photos of Ethan with his “pretty ones,” screenshots of flirty messages, and a few financial records that painted a very clear picture of his double life.
I sat there with my laptop, feeling like how I felt at university when I was putting an assignment together. The same looming anxiety because of a deadline. The same dread as I put things together. Like everything was riding on this. And if I’m being honest… everything was.
I had no idea how long this had been going on for, but what I wanted was to make Ethan feel pain.
A woman sitting at a laptop | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to embarrass him and break his heart. I wanted him to understand how humiliating his words were. I wanted him to grow up and realize that he wasn’t behaving like the man worthy of a wife and children, unworthy of the life we had built.
He deserved nothing.
When he came home that evening, he had no idea what was waiting for him. I hadn’t bothered to cook for him. Instead, I had taken the kids to get Chinese food and dropped them off at my mother’s.
Children holding a bag of fortune cookies | Source: Midjourney
Ethan and I were going to have a showdown.
“Hey, babe,” he said, flashing his usual smug smile. “How was your day?”
“Oh, just the usual,” I replied casually. “But I did get something special for you.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“Special? What’s the occasion? I’m the luckiest man alive, aren’t I? What’s for dinner?”
“I just felt like treating you,” I said with a sweet smile. “Come to the living room. I’ll show you.”
He followed me, curiosity plastered across his face.
“Sit, honey,” I said, gesturing for him to sit in the chair I’d placed in front of the TV. I’d even left a bowl of pretzels and a can of beer on the coffee table for him.
Beer and pretzels on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this about, Sarah?” he asked, still grinning.
“You’ll see!” I replied, handing him the can of beer.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
Then, the slideshow began.
A woman holding a TV remote | Source: Midjourney
At first, Ethan didn’t understand what he was seeing. The first few photos were harmless enough—scenic shots from vacations he’d taken under the guise of “business trips.”
But then the pictures shifted.
There he was, arm in arm with a woman I recognized from his Facebook friends list. Then another photo of him laughing with a different woman, drinks in hand.
A couple holding drinks | Source: Midjourney
“Sarah,” he began. “Look, I can explain.”
I held a hand up.
“Hush, honey,” I said. “Keep watching. Enjoy the show.”
More photos appeared, each one more damning than the last.
A pensive woman | Source: Midjourney
“You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?” I asked.
“Where did you get these?” he demanded, his smugness replaced by panic.
“You’re not exactly subtle, Ethan,” I replied. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I’ve put up with a lot over the years. And I’ve ignored all the red flags, much to my mother’s dismay. I’ve ignored every stupid excuse. But this? Bragging to your friends about how you’re using me? That’s a new low, even for you.”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
“Sarah, please, let’s talk about this, honey,” he pleaded, his hands actually trembling.
“Oh, we’re going to talk,” I said, stepping closer. “But first, let me introduce you to someone.”
I opened the door, and in walked my divorce lawyer.
A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney
“What the hell? Who is this?” he sputtered.
“This,” I said calmly. “This is the beginning of the end, Ethan.”
The lawyer explained the terms:
Ethan would lose the house, which was my parents’ wedding present to us. He’d lose the car, which was in my name. And most of his paycheck would go toward child support.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t do this, Sarah!” Ethan shouted, his face turning red.
“Actually, I can,” I replied. “You made your choices, Ethan. Now you get to live with them.”
The next day, Ethan packed his things and moved out. He planned on couch surfing until things “settled for him.”
A man packing a bag | Source: Midjourney
At first, he tried to win me back with apologies and promises. He swore that he would change and that he’d been “stupid” and “selfish.”
But I wasn’t interested.
“I gave you everything,” I told him during one of his desperate calls. “But you threw it away. This is on you.”
The kids and I are doing fine. They’ll ask about Ethan occasionally, and they do get excited when I take them to meet him. But at the end of the day, we’re better off this way.
Two smiling children | Source: Midjourney
Months later, I heard through a mutual friend that Ethan was struggling.
“He’s still crashing on Joshua’s couch,” she said. “Apparently, he can barely keep up with his expenses.”
And it turned out that his “pretty ones” had all disappeared, leaving him alone to face the mess he’d made.
As for me?
A man sleeping on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I was thriving. Between work and all my free time, I started taking time off for myself. I rediscovered my love for embroidery, which is something I did with my grandmother when I was a child. And I even went on a few dates.
But the best part? Seeing my kids smile, knowing that they were growing up in a home filled with love and respect.
A woman doing embroidery | Source: Midjourney
Ethan thought he’d broken me. He thought he could take and take without consequences. But in the end, the only thing he broke was himself.
And honestly? I don’t feel bad about it.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Enjoyed this story? Here’s another one for you:
My Husband Left Me and Our Toddler in Economy Class and Went to Business Himself – He Regretted It So Much in
When Claire, John, and their son, Ethan, board a flight to John’s parents, John mysteriously disappears to Business Class, leaving Claire to tackle the flight with the baby alone. But when they get to their destination, Claire’s father-in-law teaches John a lesson that he won’t forget.
About a week ago, my father-in-law really showed my husband that despite being married and having a son, he still had a lot to learn.
A couple with their toddler | Source: Midjourney
My husband, John, and I were gearing up for the long-awaited trip to his parents with our energetic two-year-old son, Ethan. John had been particularly stressed with work and kept going on about how much he needed a break.
“Claire, I can’t wait to finally relax,” John said as we packed our bags. “I just need some peace and quiet, you know?”
I smiled, though I was preoccupied with packing Ethan’s toys.
“I know, John. We all need a break. But it’ll be fun for Ethan to see his grandparents and be spoilt with their love for a bit.”
Little did I know, my husband had rather selfish plans in mind.
A woman packing suitcases | Source: Midjourney
At the airport, I was busy wrangling our toddler and managing the luggage while still trying to open a container of applesauce for Ethan. John mysteriously vanished.
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.
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