On Thanksgiving, I Got a Parcel from My Husband’s Mistress Containing a Turkey and a Pregnancy Test – They Didn’t See This Coming
Thanksgiving was supposed to be quiet and happy. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and butter, my husband Cole hummed while unpacking groceries, and I was about to tell him I was pregnant.
Then the doorbell rang.
On the porch sat a small box with no return address. Inside was a perfectly roasted turkey—and beside it, a positive pregnancy test, a USB drive, and a note:
Happy Thanksgiving, Lila.
Thought you’d like to see this.
—Vanessa.
Vanessa was my husband’s coworker.
Cole went pale. Before he could explain, I plugged in the USB. The video showed Vanessa wearing my robe, drinking my wine, sitting on my couch—taunting me while Cole filmed her. They laughed about lying to me. About how I’d “never see it coming.”
I shut the laptop.
“I’m pregnant,” I told Cole. “I was going to tell you tonight.”
He had nothing left to say.
I made him leave.
Over the next week, I didn’t cry—I planned. I boxed his things, hired a lawyer, and wrote everything down so I’d never forget who he showed me he was. Vanessa later leaked the video, thinking it would make her famous. It destroyed both of them instead.
I rebuilt quietly. Alone. Strong.
Two years later, I bake Thanksgiving pie with my son and a man who treats us with kindness.
What arrived in that box didn’t break me.
It freed me.
