Husband Demands Thanksgiving Feast With $20 — He Never Expected What I Did Next

When my husband, Mike, tossed $20 at me and demanded a Thanksgiving feast for his family, I knew I was done being treated like a maid and cook. He thought I’d go along with it, but I decided to give him a Thanksgiving he’d never forget.

For two years, I worked hard to make Mike and his family happy. I cooked every meal and cleaned every room, but all they did was expect more. This year, I finally showed them how much they had underestimated me.

When Mike and I got married, I thought I’d found my forever partner. But things started changing little by little. At first, it was small things, like Mike leaving his dirty laundry everywhere or expecting me to do all the groceries. Then his parents, Maureen and Richard, started treating me like their unpaid help.

Maureen would make snide comments like, “A wife who cooks every night is such a blessing.” Richard would joke that I should open a catering business since I was already “running one for free.” Their constant remarks wore me down.

A few weeks ago, Maureen called to announce they’d be “dropping by for dinner.” That meant hours of their company and criticism. When I suggested ordering takeout, Maureen gasped, “Takeout? For family? You’ve set the bar too high for that now.” Mike just shrugged and said, “You’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to keep the peace, but my love for Mike grew thinner every day.

Thanksgiving Plans
Mike’s family expected a grand Thanksgiving, even though we were on a tight budget. Two weeks before the holiday, Mike pushed it further. He slid a $20 bill across the table with a grin and said, “Here, make Thanksgiving dinner with this.”

I laughed and said, “That won’t even buy a turkey.” He leaned back and replied, “Mom always managed amazing meals with nothing. Figure it out.”

That was the final straw. For two years, I had poured myself into this marriage, and this was his response? I didn’t cry or argue. Instead, I planned.

A Secret Plan
For days, I played along, smiling whenever Mike asked about my Thanksgiving preparations. I told him everything would be perfect while secretly setting my plan in motion. That $20 stayed untouched. Instead, I used my own savings, money Mike didn’t know I had.

I ordered a catered feast: turkey, mashed potatoes, pies, fresh rolls, and more. I also bought beautiful table settings and decorations. If I was going out, I was going out in style.

The night before Thanksgiving, as I set everything up, Mike strolled in with a smug grin. “I knew you’d pull it off,” he said. I smiled and replied, “You’ll see tomorrow.”

The Dinner Reveal
Thanksgiving morning arrived, and the house looked stunning. The food smelled amazing, and the table was perfectly set. Mike didn’t notice the takeout containers hidden in the trash.

When his family arrived, Mike bragged, “I gave her a tight budget, and she still pulled this off. She’s amazing.”

Dinner began, and the compliments flowed. “This turkey is so moist,” his brother said. “The cranberry sauce tastes homemade,” Maureen added. Mike raised a toast: “To Alyssa, the best cook in the family!”

I stood and said, “Thank you, Mike. But I’d like to say something. Mike gave me $20 to make this meal, so I had to get creative.” The room went silent. Maureen and Richard exchanged uneasy glances, and Mike looked uncomfortable.

“I realized something while preparing this dinner,” I continued. “It’s not about the food; it’s about respect. And I’ve spent two years being treated like a maid. That ends today.”

Mike tried to interrupt, but I cut him off. “By the way, this meal? It’s catered. I used my savings to give myself a break, and it was worth every penny.”

The shock on their faces was priceless. I finished, “This is the last Thanksgiving dinner I’ll ever make for you. Next year, you can figure it out yourselves.” Then I grabbed my purse and left.

The cool November air felt refreshing as I walked out. I drove to a park with a bottle of wine and poured myself a drink. For the first time in years, I felt free.

Later, Mike bombarded me with calls and texts, alternating between anger and desperation. He wanted to “fix” things, but I was done fixing everything for him.

The next day, I returned home to a quiet house. Plates sat half-eaten, and the catered food was untouched. A week later, I handed Mike divorce papers. He looked shocked, as if he never thought I’d leave.

“I deserve better,” I told him.

And I did. After Mike moved out, I decorated the house for Christmas just the way I liked. For the first time in years, I was excited about the holidays. They were mine now, and I didn’t have to please anyone but myself.