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Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn\u2019t be visiting. \u201cI won\u2019t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!\u201d her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.\n\n
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The end of autumn and the beginning of winter had always been my favorite time of year.\n\n
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\u0421risp air carried the smell of woodsmoke, and the golden leaves gave way to the first frost.\n\n
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It was the season when my family would gather, no matter what, to share holiday dinners and exchange thoughtful gifts.\n\n
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Those gatherings were the heart of my childhood, moments of warmth and laughter that felt like nothing else in the world.\n\n
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But since marrying Peter, those moments had become memories. Each year, I found myself on the phone, explaining to my parents why I couldn\u2019t make it.\n\n
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Why, once again, I\u2019d be spending the holidays with Peter\u2019s family instead of my own.\n\n
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My mom would try to sound understanding, but I knew it hurt her. It hurt me too.\n\n
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This year, though, things were going to be different. For the first time, Peter had agreed to spend Thanksgiving with my parents.\n\n
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It had taken weeks of discussion\u2014if you could call the arguments discussions\u2014but he finally relented.\n\n
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And now, here we were, strolling through the grocery store, picking out a bottle of wine for my mom, a new roasting pan for my dad, and the ingredients for the pumpkin pie I wanted to bake.\n\n
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I clutched a small bundle of festive napkins with turkeys printed on them and held them up for Peter\u2019s opinion.\n\n
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He shrugged. His lack of enthusiasm was obvious, and it had been simmering all day.\n\n
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\u201cAre you okay, love?\u201d I asked, trying to keep my tone light.\n\n
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\u201cYeah. Couldn\u2019t be better,\u201d he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.\n\n
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I sighed.\n\n
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\u201cAre you still upset about going to my parents\u2019 house?\u201d\n\n
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He stopped walking and turned to me, his face tight with frustration. \u201cOf course, I\u2019m upset! Why should I skip my family\u2019s holiday for your whims?\u201d\n\n
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\u201cMy whims?\u201d I said, my voice rising despite myself. \u201cI\u2019ve done this for you every single year since we started dating, Peter. Every. Year.\u201d\n\n
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\u201cOh, here we go,\u201d he said with a bitter laugh. \u201cIt\u2019s always about you, isn\u2019t it? You didn\u2019t like this, you didn\u2019t like that. What about me? Why don\u2019t you care if I\u2019m happy?\u201d\n\n
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\u201cPeter,\u201d I said slowly, keeping my voice as steady as possible, \u201cwe\u2019ve already talked about this. I just want one season with my parents. If that\u2019s too much for you, maybe we should celebrate separately.\u201d\n\n
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His eyebrows shot up.\n\n
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\u201cSeason? Are you saying you\u2019re skipping Christmas with my family too?\u201d\n\n
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\u201cYes,\u201d I replied firmly, though my stomach churned.\n\n
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\u201cThis year, I\u2019m spending the holidays with my parents.\u201d\n\n
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He laughed, a harsh, humorless sound.\n\n
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\u201cFine. Then you can explain that to my parents.\u201d\n\n
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\u201cI will,\u201d I said, keeping my tone quiet and even.\n\n
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I felt wrung out, as if every ounce of energy had been drained by this conversation. I just wanted it to be over.\n\n
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We stood in the aisle for a moment, the silence between us louder than the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead.\n\n
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He grabbed the cart handle and pushed it forward without another word.\n\n
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I followed, clutching the napkins to my chest, trying to hold on to the excitement that had felt so real just hours ago.\n\n
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The tension hung heavy in the car as we neared my parents\u2019 house.\n\n
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Peter gripped the steering wheel tightly, his jaw set in a way that warned me not to push too hard. But I couldn\u2019t let it go entirely.\n\n
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\u201cPeter,\u201d I started softly, \u201cplease, just be kind to my parents. They\u2019re excited to see us, and they\u2019re nervous about making a good impression.\u201d\n\n
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He let out a sharp laugh.\n\n
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\u201cOh, great! Now you\u2019re giving me instructions? Should I juggle for them too? Or maybe do a little dance?\u201d\n\n
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I took a deep breath, steadying myself. \u201cI\u2019m not asking for much. I just want this to go well.\u201d\n\n
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\u201cWell,\u201d he shot back, his voice rising slightly, \u201cmaybe you should\u2019ve just invited them to join us at my family\u2019s house. Wouldn\u2019t that have been easier?\u201d\n\n
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I shook my head, exasperated. \u201cPeter, they\u2019re old. Traveling for the holidays isn\u2019t easy for them.\u201d\n\n
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\u201cGreat. Just perfect!\u201d he muttered, throwing one hand up dramatically before gripping the wheel again.\n\n
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The rest of the drive was silent except for the hum of the engine.\n\n
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I focused on the frosty trees lining the road, trying to calm the knot in my stomach.\n\n
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When we arrived, I forced a smile and rang the doorbell.\n\n
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My mom, Charlotte, opened the door almost immediately, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around us.\n\n
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\u201cI\u2019m so happy to see you! Finally, you\u2019re here!\u201d she exclaimed, her warmth like a balm to my nerves.\n\n
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Behind her, my dad, Kevin, offered a small, reserved smile, his usual quiet presence grounding the moment.\n\n
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Peter muttered a half-hearted \u201chello\u201d and walked inside without eye contact.\n\n
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I gave my mom an apologetic look, silently willing her to understand. Then, with a deep breath, I followed him into the house.\n\n
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Inside the warm glow of the house, my mom and I moved around the dining room, setting the table with care.\n\n
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The soft clatter of plates and the occasional hum of her voice filled the space as we arranged the dishes.\n\n
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In the living room, Peter sat stiffly on the couch, his arms crossed, while my dad quietly flipped through a magazine beside him.\n\n
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Mom glanced toward Peter, her movements slowing. \u201cIs Peter okay?\u201d she asked softly. \u201cHe seems… upset.\u201d\n\n
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I hesitated, trying to find the right words.\n\n
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\u201cHe\u2019s just… frustrated, I think,\u201d I said finally, keeping my voice low. \u201cHe wishes we were spending the holiday with his family.\u201d\n\n
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Her hands paused mid-air, holding a serving spoon. \u201cOh,\u201d she said, her tone tinged with confusion and sadness. \u201cDid we do something wrong?\u201d\n\n
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\u201cNo, Mom,\u201d I said quickly. \u201cIt\u2019s not you. It\u2019s just\u2014\u201d I stopped, unsure how to explain the unspoken tension between Peter and me. \u201cIt\u2019s complicated.\u201d\n\n
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She looked at me, her brows drawn together.\n\n
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\u201cWe\u2019re not family to him?\u201d she asked quietly, almost to herself.\n\n
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Her words hit me like a cold wind. I didn\u2019t know how to respond.\n\n
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Was that how Peter saw it? My family, my parents\u2014were they nothing to him? The thought stung more than I wanted to admit.\n\n
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\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I murmured, though I wasn\u2019t sure what I was apologizing for. For Peter\u2019s mood? For his indifference? For years I\u2019d put my family on hold for his?\n\n
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Mom placed a hand on my arm, her touch warm and steady.\n\n
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\u201cYou don\u2019t have to apologize, sweetheart,\u201d she said gently.\n\n
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But her eyes still held a shadow of hurt, and it lingered in the air as we finished setting the table in silence.\n\n
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The table was set beautifully, with crisp white linens, shining silverware, and the aroma of roasted turkey filling the room.\n\n
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My mom, Charlotte, stood back to admire her work before clapping her hands.\n\n
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\u201cEverything\u2019s ready! Come and eat!\u201d she said with cheerful warmth, her voice echoing into the quiet living room.\n\n
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We all gathered around the table. My dad, Kevin, pulled out my mom\u2019s chair for her, and I couldn\u2019t help but smile at his small gesture of old-fashioned chivalry.\n\n
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Peter followed sluggishly, barely making an effort to engage, and slumped into his seat with a sigh.\n\n
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The meal began, but the air was tense like a storm waiting to break. My mom tried valiantly to spark a conversation.\n\n
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\u201cSo, Peter,\u201d she started brightly, \u201chow\u2019s work going? Busy this time of year?\u201d\n\n
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He gave a noncommittal grunt, stabbing a piece of turkey with his fork.\n\n
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\u201cDad\u2019s been working on the deck in the backyard,\u201d I chimed in, trying to fill the silence. \u201cIt\u2019s really coming together.\u201d\n\n
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My dad nodded. \u201cIt\u2019s slow, but it keeps me busy. Maybe you could come by and give me some tips, Peter.\u201d\n\n
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Peter didn\u2019t even look up. \u201cYeah, maybe,\u201d he muttered, flicking a crumb off the table.\n\n
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I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. \u201cPeter,\u201d I said softly, leaning toward him, \u201cwhat\u2019s wrong? Can I help?\u201d\n\n
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He dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter and leaned back in his chair. \u201cEverything\u2019s wrong!\u201d he snapped, his voice loud enough to make my mom flinch.\n\n
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\u201cHow is this even Thanksgiving without my mom\u2019s chocolate pudding?\u201d\n\n
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\u201cPudding?\u201d my mom echoed, her voice unsure, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for her glass of water.\n\n
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\u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d I interjected quickly, trying to calm the situation. \u201cHis mom always makes it for him. It\u2019s no big deal.\u201d\n\n
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Peter scoffed, his eyes blazing. \u201cNo big deal? Of course! Because nothing I want ever matters. It\u2019s always about Sarah, isn\u2019t it? What Sarah wants. What Sarah needs.\u201d\n\n
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\u201cPeter, please,\u201d I begged, my voice cracking. \u201cThis is supposed to be a happy day.\u201d\n\n
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