On Thanksgiving, Lila receives a mysterious package that shatters everything she thought she knew about her marriage. What follows isn’t just betrayal — it’s a reckoning. As lies unravel, Lila must decide whether to fall apart…
or rise into something stronger than they ever saw coming. I still remember the smell. I remember the cinnamon, the butter, and the warmth of the kitchen with the windows slightly fogged.
Blake, our dog, was curled under the table, and my husband, Cole, was humming off-key as he unpacked groceries across from me. It could have been any Thanksgiving — any soft and lovely Thanksgiving where I could sit back and truly be grateful for my life. I was chopping carrots and potatoes when the doorbell rang.
“You expecting anyone, Lila?” Cole asked, looking up. “No,” I said, shaking my head. My parents were out of state for the holiday, and Cole’s parents had opted for Thanksgiving dinner with Cole’s sister, Kelsey, instead.
“Are you?”
He shrugged and went back to unboxing a pie. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and walked to the door, more distracted than curious. I had stuffing in the oven, potatoes on standby, and the sweet potatoes were still waiting to be mashed.
And I was anxious about telling Cole my news. Our news… But when I opened the door, there was no one standing there.
It was just a box — small, brown, and without a return address. I glanced around, confused, then carried it into the kitchen and set it down beside the cutting board. “Someone dropped this off, honey,” I said.
“There’s no note and no name.”
Cole turned mid-step, still holding the pumpkin pie. For a moment, he just stared. Then his face changed, only slightly, but I saw it.
A flicker of panic on my husband’s face. Cole’s fingers tightened around the aluminium pie tin, surely damaging the edge. “What is it?” he asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice pitched a little too high.
“Honestly, it’s probably some kid just pranking us.”
I ignored him and opened the lid. Inside was a roasted turkey — it was perfectly golden and still warm. “What the heck?” I asked, taking the bird out.
And that’s when I saw it. Nestled beside it was a pregnancy test — unmistakably positive — and a small black USB flash drive. My fingers hesitated.
On top was a folded note in tidy, looping cursive. “Happy Thanksgiving, Lila.
I thought you’d like to see this.
XO, Vanessa.”
Vanessa. The woman who worked with my husband.
My hand shook around the paper, and I looked up at Cole, who was staring at the pregnancy test. “Vanessa?” My voice cracked just once. “Vanessa sent this?”
My husband didn’t answer.
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
“Lila… I — this isn’t what it looks like. It seems worse than it is,” Cole said, his mouth opening and closing.
“Then what is it, Cole? Explain it to me,” I said, letting out a short, sharp breath. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said, finally.
“It was stupid. It just —”
“Just what? You slipped and fell into an affair?”
He stepped toward me.
I backed away and laid a hand on my own stomach. “You know what, Cole?” I began. “I’m pregnant too.
I was going to tell you after dinner and show you the positive test and the sonogram. But… you beat me to it, didn’t you?
With Vanessa.”
Cole’s face went white. The pie shook slightly in his hands, and he set it down without a word. “Lila, really?
You’re pregnant! You mean —”
I picked up the flash drive and walked into the living room, every movement measured. I didn’t look at him.
I didn’t ask permission. I just sat down at the desk, opened my laptop, and pushed the flash drive into the port with fingers that didn’t feel like mine. The screen lit up.
Vanessa appeared first, wearing my bathrobe, the one with the blue lacy trim. Her hair was damp. She was sipping my wine, in my glass, on my couch.
The camera was shaky at first, then it steadied. Her voice filtered through the speakers, soft and cruel, as her voiceover took charge of the room. “You know it is, Lila.
People take videos and photos of the things they’re most afraid to lose. Cole took this one. He liked seeing me like this — in your space, on your couch…
Does he take these kinds of videos of you?”
I sat frozen, my hands curled into fists in my lap. The camera panned, and there he was. Cole.
Sitting next to her. Whispering into her neck with a smirk that made my skin crawl. “She’ll never see this coming,” he said.
“Are you recording this, honey?” Vanessa asked. “I am, it’s important to me.”
The video transitioned to another clip. Vanessa, now sprawled across our bed and talking on her cellphone, the duvet twisted around her like she belonged there.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page to discover the rest 🔎👇
