Two stubborn mothers arrive at Thanksgiving with their own plans, sparking a rivalry that fills the kitchen with smoke and tension. As surprises unfold, the family faces one unforgettable holiday where tempers flare, loyalties are tested, and a last-minute twist reminds them of what truly matters.
Thick, dark smoke swirled through the house, making it hard to breathe. Kira coughed, struggling to take in air as she pressed her hand over her mouth. Her other hand protectively rested on her pregnant belly, and she glanced at Michael with wide, anxious eyes.
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They moved cautiously toward the kitchen, where the thickest smoke seemed to gather. There, like two children caught in the act, stood Margaret and Rebecca, each looking as startled as the other.
Their faces were smudged with black soot, their eyes wide and guilty, while the oven door hung open, revealing a turkey charred beyond recognition.
“What is going on here?!” Michael yelled, his eyes darting from his mother to his mother-in-law, then to the smoky kitchen around them.
“This old woman—” Rebecca started, pointing an accusing finger at Margaret.
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“Old woman? Look who’s talking!” Margaret interrupted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms.
Rebecca glared. “If you hadn’t barged in here—”
Margaret shot back, “Barged in? You’re the one who can’t cook!”
Their voices grew louder, words tumbling over each other, turning into a mess of jabs and shouts, each trying to talk over the other. Insults flew back and forth as if they’d forgotten anyone else was there.
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“Please, stop,” Kira whispered, clutching her belly, but they didn’t hear her.
Kira winced, feeling a sharp pain. “Stop! I’m in labor!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Both women froze, their faces stunned. Then, suddenly, the turkey burst into flames in the oven. Margaret and Rebecca shrieked, grabbing towels to fight the fire, while Kira moaned in pain, and Michael stood there, helpless, eyes wide in shock.
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One Week Earlier…
Margaret drove up to her daughter Kira’s house, feeling a spark of excitement. She held a fresh-baked pie on her lap, proud of the surprise she had planned.
Without calling ahead, she parked, stepped out, and walked up the front steps, smiling at the thought of catching them off guard. She knocked firmly, and before long, Michael opened the door, blinking in surprise.
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“Margaret… what are you doing here?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“I decided to surprise you,” Margaret replied cheerfully, holding out a pie. “I thought a little treat might be nice.”
Michael took the pie, glancing back toward the kitchen, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Thanks, Margaret. Um, come on in.”
Margaret stepped inside, slipping off her coat, and instantly heard voices from the kitchen. She paused, recognizing the tone of Rebecca’s voice. With a raised brow, she followed the sound and found Kira seated, listening as Rebecca talked in her usual, commanding way.
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Rebecca was in mid-sentence, her words calm yet firm. “It’s important to establish good habits early. Babies need a routine, structure.”
Margaret felt a surge of irritation. “Why are you bothering my daughter?”
Rebecca looked over, blinking, and gave a tight smile. “I’m just giving her a little parenting advice.”
Margaret scoffed. “Parenting advice? And what do you know about raising kids?”
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Rebecca’s smile vanished. “Excuse me? Your daughter is married to my son, after all. I think that gives me some right to speak.”
“Oh, well, apologies accepted,” Margaret said with a dry laugh. “Though I recall your son didn’t even know how to wash his own dishes when he started dating Kira. I had to teach him myself!”
“How dare you!” Rebecca snapped.
Michael stepped into the kitchen. “Please, calm down. Let’s keep things peaceful, all right?”
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Kira gave a tired sigh. “There will be a little baby in this house soon,” she said softly. “We want a positive atmosphere here. No fighting.”
Margaret nodded, sitting down at the table. “You’re right, Kira. I want the best for this family. And, well, since we’re all here, even if some people weren’t exactly welcome…” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Rebecca. “Why don’t we talk about Thanksgiving? I’ll make my signature turkey—”
Rebecca cut her off. “Actually, I was going to suggest we celebrate at my place this year.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “We celebrate at my place every year. It’s tradition.”
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Rebecca crossed her arms. “Traditions can change. I’m tired of sneezing from your silly cat.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Better to have a cat than to celebrate in a snake’s den.”
Rebecca’s voice rose. “Who do you think you are?!”
Kira sighed heavily, covering her face with her hands. Michael gently patted her back. “I think we should celebrate here this year,” he offered quickly.
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“What?” Kira blurted, surprised.
“It’ll be fine, Kira. I’ll help you with the cooking,” Michael assured her.
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“It’s better than all this arguing,” Michael replied.
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Kira nodded wearily. “He’s right. My head is pounding.”
Rebecca softened a little. “At least let me help. I can make the turkey.”
Kira sighed. “Fine.”
“But what about my signature turkey?” Margaret asked, hurt.
“Just this once, Mom,” Kira pleaded.
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Margaret paused, then gave in with a nod. “All right. For you, Kira,” she said, though a secret plan was already forming in her mind.
On Thanksgiving morning, Margaret rose early, her mind set on her plan. She was ready, having spent the entire week gathering the perfect ingredients. She packed up her turkey, herbs, spices, and everything needed to create her well-loved recipe.
She carefully tucked everything into a basket and drove over to Kira and Michael’s house. She knew Kira and Michael were out, so there was no time to waste.
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She reached their front door, taking out the spare key Kira had given her, meant only for emergencies. But today, Margaret felt this was important enough.
As she stepped inside, she paused, listening. A muffled noise drifted from the kitchen—pots clanging, cabinets closing. Margaret froze, her mind racing. Kira and Michael’s car wasn’t outside, so it wasn’t them.
Her eyes darted around, and she spotted an umbrella by the door. She grabbed it firmly and walked toward the kitchen, her heart pounding. She raised the umbrella as she peeked inside.
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There, bent over the counter, was Rebecca, elbows deep in turkey preparations. Margaret stopped short, barely holding back from swinging the umbrella.
“Are you completely insane?!” Rebecca shouted.
Margaret glared back. “I thought you were a burglar! What are you even doing here?”
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Kira gave me permission to cook here. But what are you doing here?”
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Margaret calmly set her basket on the counter. “I’m here to make my turkey.”
Rebecca scowled. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Margaret smirked. “What’s wrong? Afraid mine will taste better?”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We’ll just have to see about that!”
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The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of clanking pots and muttered complaints as Margaret and Rebecca worked side by side, each determined to make the best turkey.
They bumped elbows, snatched spices from each other’s reach, and exchanged pointed glares. Margaret sprinkled her herbs, pretending not to notice when Rebecca nudged her arm slightly, causing salt to spill. Rebecca hummed loudly, ignoring Margaret’s muttering about “rookie mistakes.”
Finally, Margaret finished her turkey, carefully placing it in the oven with a triumphant grin. She noticed the irritation in Rebecca’s eyes but ignored it, brushing her hands off as she headed to the living room to relax.
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After a while, a strange, burnt smell filled the air. Alarmed, Margaret rushed back to the kitchen, finding Rebecca desperately waving a towel, trying to fan away thick smoke billowing from the oven.
“What did you do?!” Margaret shouted, glaring at Rebecca.
Rebecca crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe you don’t know how to cook.”
Margaret stormed over to the oven, eyeing the controls. She noticed the temperature had been changed. “You did this! You’re trying to ruin my turkey!”
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Rebecca leaned in with a smirk. “I didn’t touch it. If it’s ruined, it’s your own fault!”
Margaret pulled open the oven door, only to be hit by a wave of thick, black smoke that poured out into the kitchen. She coughed and squinted, trying to see through the haze.
There, in the center of the oven, was her turkey—charred to a solid black lump. It looked nothing like the golden masterpiece she’d imagined.
Moments later, Michael and Kira walked through the door, both stopping short at the smoky mess. Instantly, Margaret and Rebecca began shouting, each blaming the other.
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But suddenly, Kira doubled over, clutching her belly. “Michael… it’s time!” she gasped, gripping his hand.
As Michael guided Kira to the car, Margaret watched, her heart pounding with worry for her daughter.
“Take a cab,” Michael said firmly. “I don’t want either of you stressing Kira out with more arguments.” With that, he helped Kira into the car, then got in and drove off without waiting for their reply.
Margaret huffed. “Well, we can take my car.”
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Rebecca nodded, looking tired herself. “Fine, let’s go.”
When they arrived at the hospital, the nurse informed them that only Michael was allowed in the room with Kira. Margaret and Rebecca found two chairs in the hallway and sat down, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. They fidgeted, glanced around, and avoided each other’s eyes.
Finally, Margaret cleared her throat. “I think we need a truce,” she said quietly. “We almost ruined Thanksgiving, and if Kira hadn’t gone into labor… well, we would have ruined it for her.”
Rebecca nodded slowly, her face softening. “I agree. I don’t want my granddaughter thinking her grandma’s a nutcase.” She paused, then looked at Margaret directly. “So, peace?”
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Margaret nodded, extending her hand. “Peace,” she repeated.
Rebecca took her hand, giving it a firm shake.
Just then, Michael stepped out, smiling. “You can see your granddaughter now,” he said, motioning for them to come in.
Both women leapt up, hurrying to the room. Inside, Kira lay on the hospital bed, smiling, with a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
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Rebecca leaned over, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s beautiful,” she said softly.
Margaret nodded, reaching out to touch the baby’s tiny hand. “And she looks like both of you,” she added with a smile.
A nurse walked in, carrying a tray. “Dinner for the new mom,” she announced, setting it on the bedside table. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we went with a holiday-themed meal.” The tray held slices of turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green peas.
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Margaret chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new Thanksgiving tradition.”
“No way!” Kira exclaimed with a laugh. “I am not going through this every year!”
Everyone burst out laughing, and though it wasn’t the Thanksgiving they’d planned, it was the one they truly needed.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When Rick returns to his small hometown after his grandmother’s passing, he inherits her old bookstore—a place full of memories from his childhood. But as he starts cleaning, he uncovers hidden secrets about his grandmother’s life that change everything. Read the full story here.
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New Father Kicks Wife With Newborn Twins onto the Streets, Years Later He Begs Her for Help – Story of the Day
A minted father who is unwilling to spend money to raise his newborn twins asks his wife to give up one baby for adoption. He kicks her out with the babies when she refuses and knocks on her door for help five years later.
It was a cold, rainy night, and Angie cradled her newborn babies at the bus stop. “Where will we go? Jesus, please help us. Shelter us as we wait out this rough night,” she cried, wiping warm tear droplets off her babies’ faces. Angie had nowhere to go, and her parents had died long back.
Suddenly, she sensed something creeping behind her and was terrified. Angie mustered the courage to protect her babies from whatever it was. “It’s a dog!” she sighed.
Angie never imagined her life would turn topsy-turvy overnight. She never thought her husband Jake, who she trusted and loved throughout their marriage, would kick her out with their babies just a week after their birth…
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“How I wish my mom were with me today…Sorry, mama, I should’ve listened to you and not rushed with my marriage with Jake,” sobbed Angie, thinking about her late mom.
“You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear.”
Angie met Jake after graduation five years ago. He was a young, handsome man, and she thought he was the one. They fell for each other in what would turn into a fairytale love story, but with one exception—there was no ‘happily ever after’ in Angie’s case.
Problems sparked in the fourth year of their marriage when she told Jake she was pregnant.
“But darling, you know I’ve just started my business. We have postponed baby planning all these years, and I am not ready to be a father yet,” Jake was upset when Angie showed him the two pink lines on her pregnancy test kit.
Jake’s reluctance to be a father showed he was unprepared for responsibilities. Poor Angie was torn between his disapproval of having children and her desire to have as many as possible. But was Jake prepared to know Angie was pregnant with twins?
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“I am okay with having a baby…you get it? I mean, one baby is enough,” said Jake as Angie walked into the ward for scanning. “I pray that you don’t come out and tell me we are having twins,” he joked, his mouth curved into an ironic smile. Moments later, fate joked back at him.
Angie came out, distressed and worried. She was pale while she was supposed to be blushing and smiling.
“What is it?” he asked her, impatient for her reply. “What did the doctor say?”
Angie swallowed her fear and spoke out, partly guessing Jake’s reaction. “Our babies are fine,” she said.
“Alright…wait, what…babies?” he exclaimed.
The scan Angie took minutes ago gave her a glimpse at two tiny lives growing inside her. She was pregnant with twins, and Jake was not happy about that.
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Jake stormed to his car as Angie read his mind and pictured his frustrations. She was nervous and thought he had joked about having only one baby. But his reactions proved otherwise.
Jake grew distant from Angie day by day and focused only on making more money. She knew he was upset about having twins and assumed he would cool down with time. But it only worsened during her third trimester.
Angie was in the hospital, waiting for Jake to see their newborn twin baby girls. But he never showed up. He sent his maid and driver three days later to bring Angie and their babies home.
Jake did not want to get involved with his babies. He didn’t even welcome them home or hold them. He was unhappy and unprepared to be their father.
Angie returned home with her newborns that evening, knowing little about Jake’s condition. “We keep only one child and give the other up for adoption. If you are okay with it, we are a family. If not, you can leave the house with them,” he told Angie.
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At first, Angie thought Jake was kidding. He dragged her suitcase to the living room and placed it in front of her, indicating he was serious.
“I’m not ready to raise two children and burn a hole in my pocket. My business is fetching a lot of profits, and I need to focus on making more money…I don’t want to waste my time and wealth on raising two babies when I can easily raise just one,” he explained.
Angie was devastated. “They are our babies, Jake. How could you ask a mother to give up her baby? Are you out of your mind? Both my babies are our symbol of love,” she cried. But Jake was stubborn.
“My business has just started to flourish, and I don’t have the time to focus on family. I don’t want to waste my hard-earned money on two babies. You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear,” he said, despite knowing Angie had nowhere to go.
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The poor mother’s choice was obvious. She took her suitcase and left the house with the babies. Jake’s greed for his newfound riches blinded his devotion to family. He failed as a husband and a father. But it didn’t matter to him.
Angie snapped to her present and found herself still deserted at the bus stop, cradling her babies. “Where will I go? Please help me, Jesus,” she cried and was disrupted by an intense beam of light rays.
“Hello there, are you alright? It’s raining heavily. Would you like a ride, my dear?” an older woman called out to her from a taxi. Angie looked up and saw a nun. She wrapped her babies in her jacket and approached the car.
“Oh my, how adorable your babies are!” exclaimed the nun. “Get in. I’ll drop you. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know, Sister,” said Angie. “My path is dark, and I am lost. I don’t know which way to go. My babies and I were abandoned by someone dear to us.”
The nun understood Angie’s misery and immediately took her to the convent.
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Angie and her daughters, Sophie and Marley, found a safe shelter to wait out the rough days of their lives. Angie taught in the school administered by the church. She also worked part-time in a restaurant, and two years later, she saved a good chunk of money to start her café.
Gradually, Angie was able to give her daughters a better life, though it could’ve been much better had their father been involved. Moreover, Angie did not regret her decision not wanting to divorce Jake. Deep in her heart, she hoped he would realize his mistake and come for them someday.
Five years passed, and Angie now had her own house. It was quite small yet comfortable. She spent the best years watching Sophia and Marley grow up.
There were times when Angie used to struggle without enough profits in business, but her faith and determination motivated her. She launched two more coffee shops in town, and gradually, her fortune grew. But in the other part of town, Jake’s business tanked.
He was drowned in debt, and everybody he sought financial help from refused to support him at the last minute. Jake knew how rich Angie was now and thought only she could help him.
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“Hey, how are you?” Angie answered the door one day when she least expected to see Jake at the doorstep. “Come in!”
Jake vaguely smiled and immediately apologized to Angie. “Darling, I’m so sorry for abandoning you. My greed to earn more money cost me big. I am bankrupt, and it’s the best punishment I deserve for kicking you out with our babies. Please forgive me, and please help me.”
Angie now understood why Jake had come. She had learned about his loss in business but never thought he would visit her and apologize, let alone ask for help.
Jake saw a photo of Angie with their daughters and cried. “I’m sorry, sweethearts. Please forgive your daddy,” he said. Angie’s heart melted, and though she knew Jake had come crawling for help, she was willing to do it because she still loved him.
“But darling, I will not be able to repay such a huge amount of money. I will need time. I was such a cruel husband and a heartless father. Are you sure you want to help me?” he sobbed when Angie gave him a check worth the money he wanted.
“The night you kicked me out, I learned what greed is and how it can ruin relationships. And today, I learned what forgiveness is. What are we going to achieve by holding onto our past grudges? Nothing! Everyone makes mistakes, but as humans, we must learn to forgive one another,” said Angie.
Jake realized his mistake and promised to take Angie and their kids back once he sorted his business issues. He wanted to be a good father to his children and compensate for the heartbreak Angie endured all these years.
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