Novel & Cerita Sonic Thanksgiving

At the Thanksgiving dinner, Raphael's assistant Daphne was sitting in my seat. I frowned at Raphael. “Why is she in the Donna's seat? Doesn’t she know, and don’t you?” Raphael clicked his tongue, impatient. “You're the one who showed up late. People sit where they want. If it bothers you, leave.” I opened my mouth to argue, and his thoughts reached me before I could. [Scarlett, get angry. Fight back.] [Tell me you're my wife, the Donna of the Sterling family, that no one else has the right to sit at my side.] [Prove you love me. It's the only thing that makes me feel safe.] This time, I didn't give his thoughts what they were begging for. I slid the wedding ring off my finger instead. “That's the Donna's seat. If you've decided she belongs in it, I won't argue.” “Let's get divorced.”

As I'm unable to get a ticket for my return trip after the Thanksgiving holiday, I specifically booked a first-class seat home. Just as I find my seat, I see an unruly child jumping around on it. I patiently smile and say, "Kid, this is my seat. Where is your seat?" He makes a face at me. "It's mine now, old hag!" I grab him by the collar of his shirt, wanting to lift him out of the seat. At that moment, a woman's piercing voice sounds behind me. "What are you doing? Let go of my son!" I release my grip and say as gently as possible, "Please control your child. This is my seat." Suddenly, she raises her voice. "He's just a child! Can't you, as an adult, give way to him? You're young and dressed decently. How can you have no compassion at all?" I'm so angered by this distorted reasoning that I laugh. "If you're so compassionate, why didn't you spend the money to buy your child a first-class seat?"

At our Thanksgiving family dinner, my stepbrother brought his beautiful girlfriend to meet the family for the first time. She held up her wine glass and flashed me a malicious smirk. “I heard you had a first love you can’t forget, Summer.” I kept my head low and focused on my food, unsure how to respond. After all, my first love… was her boyfriend. When I was seventeen, my stepbrother Ethan Cole tricked me into crossing the line we should never have crossed, while our parents were blissfully unaware. Even right now, under the table, his foot was rubbing mine sensually. He did not bother holding back. On the table, he held his girlfriend’s hand tenderly as he mocked me with a smirk, “You’re twenty-seven, sis. Your shelf life is running out, and you’re such a plain Jane. Who would ever want you?” I stood up abruptly and looked at him, my tone calm and resolute. “I’m married, Ethan.”

In the second month of my relationship with my best friend Sophie Vaughn's older brother, Elias Vaughn, Thanksgiving arrives. Sophie leans in, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Elias is bringing his girlfriend home for the holiday. Let's see what all the fuss is about." I take my time getting ready, heart fluttering with hope. Just maybe, I'll finally be formally introduced as his girlfriend. But the moment I step inside, I see him with another elegant, beautiful woman, smiling as he introduces her to his parents. "This is my girlfriend," he says. He then inadvertently looks over at me, stiffening for a moment, clearly caught off guard. But just as quickly, he recovers and turns to the woman beside him. "That woman over there is my sister's friend and a part-time student. You could say she's a maid in our household." A maid? As it turns out, I'm nothing more than someone for him to kiss and sleep with. I was never someone worthy of standing by his side publicly. I turn away and board the train back to Ashcroft University, choosing my future over another night in his bedroom.

My girlfriend and I had agreed that she would come home with me for Thanksgiving to meet my parents. However, the night before the trip, she canceled on me again. My older cousin, who had never liked me, immediately started throwing sarcastic comments my way. “Five years together and she still hasn’t met your family? Maybe she never took you seriously in the first place. And honestly, a man shouldn’t think too highly of himself. You might end up raising someone else’s kid without even knowing it,” he said. I ignored him and stepped outside to get some air, but then I found that the car parked in front of the neighbor’s house looked strangely familiar. My heart skipped a beat. Could this be a surprise from my girlfriend? I was just about to call her when my cousin clicked his tongue and pointed at the car. “Still, you’ve gotta admit Liam Crossby really knows how to live. He brought home a gorgeous and successful girlfriend. You? You’ve spent your whole life losing to him.” My eyes locked onto the license plate, and my fingers froze. Then, I dialed a hidden number I hadn’t used in years. “Bring the guys. Trash the car.”

“You murderer!” No A resounding slap followed those words from Katrina’s Mother-in-law. The entire extended family gasped in shock but no one made a move to help. Not even Katrina’s husband, Damon Winchester. He just stood there, watching lazily, like he always did while his mother berated her for every little thing. But this wasn’t little, no. This was more than the fine china dishes that were one of the family’s heirlooms which Katrina broke last thanksgiving and earned her harsh insults from her mother-in-law. This was nothing like the family dinner she made last Christmas that caused half the kitchen to catch fire, needing a renovation. This couldn't be compared to that afternoon in summer, when she knocked over an antique vase while dusting, freezing as it cracked clean down the middle and her mother-in-law murmured that Katrina’s touch spoiled anything of value. No. This was the death of the only woman who loved someone as unlovable as Katrina. The woman who raised her. The woman who constantly fought for Katrina’s place in the Winchester Family even when she didn’t belong. Alana Winchester, Damon’s grandmother. Like every other thing, it was all her fault. Everything Katrina touched turned to ashes.

When I came home for break, my mom, Evonne Ziegler, took me to the grocery store to buy ingredients for a big Thanksgiving dinner. As soon as we got there, she asked me what I wanted to eat. I picked up a pack of salmon and dropped it into the cart, but she immediately took it back out. "Salmon has radiation contamination now. You can't eat that." I glanced at the rotisserie chicken instead, but I was still turned down. "Chicken is full of growth hormones. They grow them in a week now. You'll get sick eating that." Apparently, everything was off-limits, so I lost interest and stopped talking. I figured I'd just let her buy whatever she wanted. But that upset her too. "I specifically brought you to the store. If you want something, just say it. Now you're just being silent. How am I supposed to know what you like?" Not wanting to ruin the mood, I casually pointed at some peaches nearby. "I like peaches. Let's get some." "We already have peaches at home. Don't buy any. You won't even eat them." On the drive back, Mom suddenly sighed. "You're so hard to please. We basically came out here for nothing." The moment I heard that, I suddenly thought this whole thing was pointless.

My sense of direction has always been terrible since young. Getting lost is a norm for me. When I was eight years old, I had to face the worst consequences of getting lost. That time, I almost got kidnapped by human traffickers. So, my older sister, Aubrey Cochran, gifts me a GPS watch and repeatedly teaches me how to use it. "As long as you follow the GPS, you can find your way home. Have you remembered it yet?" I nod heavily. Since then, the watch stays strapped onto my wrist. But later on, my adoptive mom has found her actual son. That's when the entire family's attitude toward me begins shifting. They no longer panic even when I don't return for the day. This year's Thanksgiving holidays are coming soon. Aubrey decides to take me on a trip out of the blue. Our trip lasts for more than a dozen days. Our last stop is a remote village. There, Aubrey takes my watch from me and fiddles with it for a long time. At the start of the next day, I can't get in touch with her no matter how hard I try. As I stare at the unfamiliar GPS coordinates on my watch, I feel realization dawning on me immediately. When I'm about to leave, a villager looks at me in confusion. "You're leaving too, eh? Where are you headed to?" I smile at her. "I'm going home." Since Aubrey doesn't want me anymore, I shall grant her wish.

On Thanksgiving, my husband Steven Mandel showed up with another woman. Not just anyone—Fiona Osborne, his first love. She had Alzheimer's and only remembered him. And yeah, he said she was moving in. Steven's eyes were ice. "Erica, I stayed away from Fiona out of duty. But I'm not wasting what time I have left without her." Happy 50th anniversary to me. No gift—just a slap-in-the-face love confession. Maya, my daughter-in-law, tried to talk some sense into him, bless her. Then Anton—my own son—cut in. "Mom already kept Dad away from Fiona for years. She's tied ME to you for half my life. Now Dad just wants to take care of the woman he loves—what's so wrong with that?" Steven stepped in front of Fiona like some kind of hero. "Anton's right. Erica, I let you play the wife role for decades. Now, I want to be with the woman I truly love. "If you can't handle that, let's just get a divorce." I stood there, frozen. I'd walked away from a powerhouse law career for this family after we had Anton. I thought I had given everything, and in their eyes, I would be a perfect wife and a perfect mother. But today made it clear—I was never enough. No matter how much I gave, it was never going to be enough. I turned to Maya. She was crying. "You wanna get divorced together?"

On Christmas Day, eight months pregnant, I struggled through the kitchen,cooking for my husband and his secretary. When I finally sat down, hoping to taste a piece of turkey I didn’t even get during Thanksgiving, my husband shoved me aside like I was nothing. He slid the turkey in front of his secretary instead. “Alison,you’re already so fat. Stop eating. Let Daisy have it—she deserves to enjoy your cooking.” Daisy，chewing on the turkey I had painstakingly prepared, had the audacity to mock me under the guise of playing truth or dare with my child. “So, what do you think your mom looks like?” “Mommy looks like a fat pig on a farm!” “Her stretch marks? They’re like disgusting worms crawling all over her. Even Santa would run for his life!” Their laughter erupted like daggers piercing me from all sides. Humiliation and rage burned through me as my dignity was stripped bare. I demanded an apology from that vile woman, but my husband—my husband!—turned his cold, cruel face toward me and said, “Get out of here.” Pregnant, exhausted, and humiliated, I stood there in shock. Then I snapped. I grabbed the Christmas cake and turkey and threw them in the trash. I walked out without looking back. This wretched family doesn’t deserve a second of my effort or a single ounce of my love!