Thanksgiving On Thursday

Mindy Horton and I got married on Thanksgiving. Coincidentally, her assistant went abroad to further his studies that day. I did not pay much attention to it until the eve of another Thanksgiving three years later. I was browsing TikTok and came across Mindy, who was in a street interview about couples. The reporter stopped her and asked, "Excuse me. Could I have a second of your time? Who would you like to spend today with?" Mindy paused for a moment. She struggled to answer after a long while, "With my lover." "Call him now. He should know how you feel!" I smiled as I sat up, ready to pick up Mindy's call. However, when I looked up, I saw Mindy sobbing to another man on the screen. "I know you've returned, and I still can't forget you after all these years. Do you know how much I regret not marrying you and marrying another man? We missed our chance with each other three years ago. Let's spend Thanksgiving together this year!" I sat in bed all night and booked a flight out of the country the next morning. "When are you leaving?" my assistant asked. I replied, "On Thanksgiving."

Because of a last-minute business trip, my husband missed the Thanksgiving family dinner. I spent the entire day helping out at my in-laws' place in the countryside with our five-year-old son, only to receive a complaint from the downstairs neighbor just before dinner. "Ari, could you please close your kitchen window when you're cooking? I can smell the hot sauce from all the way here. My husband has a lung condition—he can't handle it." My neighbor's words shocked me, and I immediately called my husband, who was allergic to chili peppers. "Honey, did someone break into the house? The neighbor said there was smoke coming from the kitchen." His breathing hitched for a second before he let out a casual laugh. "No break-in. My flight got canceled, so I was home alone cooking. When are you two coming back? I really miss you." I smiled and told him we'd stay a couple more days, but in the middle of the night, I packed up our son and drove straight home.

Everyone believed Solène was just a quiet, virtuous wife; the woman who stood behind her husband’s success and asked for nothing in return. But they were wrong. At a Thanksgiving dinner meant to celebrate family, Solène’s marriage is shattered when her husband, Lewis Crawford, introduces another woman and claims she is carrying his child. In front of those who benefited from her sacrifice, Solène is asked to accept the unthinkable with grace because a medical report said she can no longer conceive. She does not scream nor protest. She just smiled and accepted it, knowing fully well she held her husband's future in his hand. When she took the step to ruin him, she never expected that the satisfaction of watching him suffer would open doors to many more betrayals, and an obstacle she never saw coming. **** She scoffed bitterly, turning to him once more. “The first man I helped off his feet was you, Lewis. I vowed never to do it again.”

In the tenth year of being the secret lover of Luca, a Mafia Don, I died. When the bullet tore through my chest, I used the last of my strength to dial his number. “Luca, I’ve been shot… Please, save me…” On the other end, he let out a careless, mocking snort. “Eva, is this another one of your tragic‑act routines? Helena’s waiting for me to have breakfast with her. I’m tired of this game. Stop bothering me.” Then, the call cut off without mercy, and so I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I had gone back seven days before the shooting. This time, with trembling fingers, I dialed a number I hadn’t dared to touch in three years. “Marcus, three years ago, you said you’d marry me. Do you still stand by it?” The voice on the other end exploded. “Eva! You finally called me! I’m in Sicily, clearing out an enemy faction. I can’t get back right now. “Give me seven days. I swear I’ll come back to you in a blaze of glory!”

My best friend, Sophia Lisciotti, is brutally murdered at the docks, and I cover up for the real killer. The Don of the Sollazzo family interrogates me, and the Sollazzos hunt me down. Nevertheless, I guard the secret. I would rather die than speak. Ten years later, my former best friend, Valeria Sollazzo, rises to become the Principessa of the Sollazzo family, wielding absolute power. She chains me to the tribunal platform and places a memory extractor over my head. "Lina, you let the murderer walk free for ten years. Today, I'll drag out the secret you've spent your whole life hiding." But when the screen projects the murderer's face, the ruthless Principessa goes deathly pale.

"Callum, why don't you spend more time with me?" As Callum Kilbourne's Beta, Lena Morrison keeps using sending documents to him as an excuse to badger him. Her voice is sickly sweet to the point I feel like puking. Thanks to my sharp sixth sense as a werewolf, I know immediately that Lena has feelings for Callum the first time she follows him into this house. At first, I thought even if this mate bond started from a mistake, at least my daughter, Mia Kilbourne's presence would serve as an anchor for both Callum and me. We'd at least make an effort to keep things peaceful on the surface. But when my five-year-old goes missing, I spend the whole night calling Callum on the phone. All I can hear is a cold, repetitive dial tone in return. The next day, Callum finally comes home, reeking of alcohol and carrying the faintest trace of an unfamiliar perfume. Suddenly, I feel exhausted. I don't even have the energy to fight with Callum anymore. A moment of silence later, I look up at him. "Let's break the bond, Callum." The Alpha, who's used to keeping everything under control at all times, suddenly glares at me with bloodshot eyes. He grabs me by the neck and pins me on the wall immediately, his claws soon tightening around my neck. "Break the bond, you say? What right do you even have to bring that up, Ayla Townsend?"