I’m Ava, and I invited my ex to Thanksgiving, hoping to clear the air after our quiet breakup. He said he couldn’t come, so when he arrived with a guest, my heart sank—until a rainy confession brought clarity and a fresh start.
The kitchen smelled of rosemary and pumpkin pie, a warm hug. I helped Mom chop onions while she basted the turkey. The windows fogged from the oven’s heat, and old rock songs played softly, comforting as a memory. But my mind was on Lucas. “Still no word?” Mom asked, tossing onions into a pan. I shook my head, peeling garlic. “Not since we fought.” She looked at me. “What happened?” I sighed, staring at the garlic. “We were fine, watching movies, laughing, then… he went cold. Like he shut me out.” Mom stirred stuffing, her voice kind. “Love gets complicated when it’s real. It’s messy.” My eyes burned. “What now?” She smiled. “Silence makes things worse. Invite him to Thanksgiving. Say what’s true, or you’ll regret the empty plate.”
I nodded, hands unsteady, and grabbed my phone. I called Lucas, heart pounding. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Hi,” I replied, voice tight. “Come to Thanksgiving? Maybe we can talk?” He paused. “I’ve got plans,” he said. “Oh,” I said, keeping calm. “Alright.” I hung up, heart heavy, and went back to chopping, hiding tears. By evening, the house was cozy with the scent of turkey and biscuits. Laughter echoed from the living room where Dad retold his story of nearly torching the deck with a fryer. My brother, Owen, hovered by the table. “Food yet?” he groaned. Mom swatted him. “Wait for your sister.” Owen slumped. “She’s late, always.” Mom set out her best dishes, napkins folded, candles glowing softly.
The door opened, and I expected my sister, Mia, with her usual loud entrance. She was there, but Lucas followed. My breath caught, my hand on my glass. “You said you weren’t coming,” I said, standing. He gave a shy smile. “I had plans.” Mia sat, smirking. “Surprise!” The room stilled, tension thick. Dad joked, “Guess it’s Stuffing Showdown!” but it didn’t help. My pulse raced as Lucas and Mia shared a muffin, whispering. My stomach knotted. “Really, Mia?” I snapped, voice loud. Everyone froze. “Was my boyfriend another thing to take? First my jacket, my necklace, now him?” Mia’s face fell. “Ava, it’s not like that.” I stood, tears welling. “You’re my sister. Doesn’t that mean anything?” I grabbed my coat and ran into the rain.
The cold bit my skin, rain soaking me. The dinner’s warmth faded, replaced by wet air. My heart hammered as I rushed to my car, hands shaking. My keys dropped, splashing in a puddle. As I reached for them, Lucas yelled, “Ava, wait!” He ran over, rain drenching him, eyes wide. “What?” I snapped, clutching my keys. He stopped, hands up. “It’s not what it seems.” I scoffed. “You brought my sister, Lucas.” He panted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought… seeing me with someone might show you still cared.” I stared. “By making me jealous? That’s your fix?” He sagged. “It was stupid. I missed you, and Mia offered to help. I wasn’t thinking.” Rain mixed with tears. “You could’ve talked to me.” He whispered, “I miss you, Ava. I wanted you to notice me.”
We sat in my car, rain tapping, the heater warming us. The windows fogged, blurring the world. Lucas took my hand gently. “I messed up,” he said. “But I love you and didn’t know how to reach you.” I saw his tired eyes. “I messed up too,” I said. “I waited for you to call, acting like the silence didn’t sting. It did.” He nodded, holding my hand. “I love you, even when I’m dumb.” I smiled. “You’re really dumb.” He grinned faintly. “But I love you too,” I said. We sat, the quiet feeling light. “I owe Mia an apology,” I said. He agreed. “She meant well.” I nodded. “She’s my sister. It’s messy, but I was too harsh.”
We walked back, hand in hand, rain on us. The house’s warmth—turkey, pie—welcomed us. The table hushed. Mom stood in the doorway, holding a dish. Owen paused, fork raised. Mia looked up, wary. I stepped forward. “Sorry, Mia,” I said. “I overreacted. It wasn’t right.” She nodded. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have surprised you.” We hugged, short but real. Dad clapped. “Can we eat before Owen eats the table?” Owen groaned, “I didn’t!” Laughter eased the room. Lucas and I sat together, his hand on mine. Mom winked, serving pie. Peace settled in. We hurt, we falter, but talking heals. Silence builds walls, but love brings us back to the table.
